1964-11-14 - Magnetism at its Finest
Summary: Try not to die on the streets of New York.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
clarice-ferguson erik vesper 

Arabic, being such a complex language as it is, still comes with great difficulty to Erik Lensherr, in part because of its many regional dialects. The man is currently engaged in what barely passes as conversation with a vendor near Times Square. To the untrained ear, it borders on argument, but those who know the language and culture would be wiser.

Whatever it was they were conversing about, it comes to an abrupt halt with the blaring of a truck's horn and screeching of tires. A wayward taxi, not paying attention to traffic signals, is mere seconds away from being plowed over by a cement truck.

Erik turns his head at the sound, and the decision comes in a flash. He throws a hand, encased in comfortable, warm leather, and beneath the brim of his hat the facial expressions are terse.

Theres no way the cement truck would have stopped in time, but it does; its entire rear end even lifts up a bit at the sheer magnetic force pummeling into it from the front. The force is so strong that the traffic signals above bend and buckle, and the driver bounces his forehead right off the steering wheel with a painful thump.

She has a shaw pulled over her head. Since arriving on this world, Blink has realized that her unwelcomed presence is even more unwelcomed, and the local populace is well armed. Clarice still wants to get out though. The dream was never about being indoors. It was about integration. It was about living in harmony - it was about protecting humanity against those that would do it the most harm.

Sometimes, sadly, that enemy is themselves.

As she hears the noise and the screech, the young woman's first response is that of a well-trained combat first responder. A portal opens around her and she drops through, reappearing on the top of the truck. "Are you alright?!" she calls to the driver within. "You look like you may have hit your head pretty hard.. I can get you to a hospital fast if you need one.." she smiles prettily.

Which of course, the poor driver, seeing a pink and magenta young woman offering to take him away, appropriately screams and starts to back away, causing Clarice to pull back. "…just offering to help." she says quietly, though her attention turns to the bent metal, and the girl's emerald pool of eyes widen. Is he… here?

The girl in the back of that taxi en route from the airport will think about traveling in another fashion. Maybe a scythe wheeled chariot next time, yes. Or a pegasus, assuming someone can craft those. Her hands go white when the driver who keeps staring up at the swinging pompoms on his rearview mirror doesn't watch where he goes.

The string of angry Hausa leaving his lips as a constant stream of commentary turns harsh, violent. "«The United Nations is the worst. No one ever parks proper. They just stop. Three deep! They stop. Who does that? In my country we show respect to others. We do not pull out and throw crude gestures. You wouldn't know about that. You probably don't drive. It is unthinkable women drive. Bad spirits would distract them. No, it is good you're in the car with me. I'll get you there safe — what in an elephant's bollocks is that?!»" He ends in a shout, slamming on the brakes.

Vesper wears seatbelts. She has to, fragile constitution and all. The force of the brakes applied at full strength, screeching loud, hurts. She is thrown forward and back at the impact of the car stopping. Not stopped by the cement truck plowing into the passenger side front door. Something else entirely, something so strong that it sends her eyes widened to an awful state.

She does not scream. Neither is there shock when the doors rattle and the car wants to obey the irresistible screaming action all around them, shaped away from the Earth's core and other properties moving magnetic fields around. How fascinating.

There is something wrong with a girl who is staring at those bent lines rather than trying to avoid certain death of a large vehicle collision.

The magnetic force balloons, buffering other cars to assure they all come to a quick stop. A sign post bends, and a few passersby find themselves briefly tugged by watches and earrings, though the force is not strong enough to rip or cause damage; it's designed to bring metal to a halt, and those people, wisely, do as well.

There comes a grimace; Erik isn't a monster, and a swollen head might be a lot better than what would have happened otherwise, but he still feels bad for the driver. That feeling, however, is dashed when he sees purple, and an incredibly strange imagery on the other side, like looking through a mirror onto a part of Broadway he shouldn't be seeing.

Reaching upward, Erik pulls the sunglasses from his eyes and watches for a moment, until the driver screams. To that, his lips flatten, and he shakes his head just so. He turns and says something to the vendor, excusing himself, before moving out into the stalled traffic. A car that was going to move is held in its place with a simple gesture.

"N- no, no, I, just, just stay away!" the driver calls to Clarice.

"You're bleeding." Erik's voice booms out in a baritone that you only have to hear once in order to recognize it. "It's probably a concussion." He stops nearby, motioning from the driver to Clarice. "You should reconsider her offer."

And it's a voice that she recognizes oh so clearly. "Mister Leshnerr!" Clarice is suddenly porting there and she wraps the man up in a hug, before the young woman has to remind herself - this isn't her home. This isn't her Earth. She pulls back quickly, cheeks darkening. "Sorry, reminded me of someone I knew." she comments and then pulls the shaw around herself. "It's alright.. I'm sort of used to that response.." By now.

The stunned taxi driver's condition is inferior to his passenger in many ways. His clutching hands grab the wheel and he looks around. "It must be a redhead's curse. Or an albino." His face pales to weak cafe au lait upon seeing the weird tableau playing out in front of his windshield.

Vesper snaps her seatbelt off. No need for her to stay in this. She says in a prim, terse tone, "I will not pay the fare." Her bag thrown to a heap at her feet can easily be picked up. She pushes open the door and steps out into the street. With her tote firmly in hand there is less fear of the traffic swerving around the parked car than there should be. She starts following the magnetic field lines back to their warped source. Her hand fumbles her sunglasses up her nose. "Pardonnez-moi?" Gallic cool is firmly in place. "Thank you, monsieur. For the truck."

Erik is tense when he's hugged. Who could blame him? He positively stares at Clarice for a moment, not because of her skin tone or oddly pupil-less eyes, but for another reason altogether. "How do you know my name?" The question comes with a certain weight behind it that isn't dissimilar from the magnetic fields he holds mastery over.

His eyes move back to the fumbling driver, and they narrow slightly. "He's a damn fool," is all he says in regards to being afraid. "We-"

Cutting himself short, Erik turns to the new voice, and his terse expression softens when he acknowledges Vesper. There's a certain modesty in his words that speak of a familiarity with not being fast enough before. "We should get out of the road." He turns toward the sidewalk, considering. There's a man snapping photos, to whom Erik briefly acknowledged. Oddly, the compartment suddenly snaps open, exposing all of the film inside to the sunlight. "In fact, if the driver insists on not accepting your help," he glances toward Clarice, "it may be profitable to make ourselves scarce." He looks back to Vesper again, and finally offers a small smile. "You're welcome."

"…it.. it's a long story." Clarice admits quietly, before she considers, and Erik's hidden meaning is easily deciphered. "I suppose we should." There's a flash of her hand, and another portal snaps open. "Next stop, NYU." Because it was the closest place that Clarice could think of that had a reasonable area to show back up in without an issue. "Please keep all elbows and knees inside the ride at all times and return your seat backs and trays to their full and upright position."

The petite scientist holds her bag to her side. A quick look around at the congestion flooding the very heart of New York is quite enough to remind her of sensible precautions. She shakes her head slightly to clear it. Then she retreats ever so carefully back to the sidewalk, driven by the search for solid ground. She doesn't have to explain herself. The intent is obviously there but she retreats for safety into the nearest cafe.

The flash and opening of a portal is something Erik finds absolutely fascinating. He stares at it for a moment, eyebrows lifted, then turns to watch Clarice with a rueful smirk. That last part though… Erik looks to Clarice, perplexed. "What?" he asks, but before he knows it, the entire world changes around him. Times Square is gone, and a quiet part of the NYU campus appears. He blinks rapidly, then turns around in one spot, not wanting to end up moving his body the wrong way and leaving an arm or leg behind on Broadway. "Spectacular," he whispers to himself.

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