2007-10-22: Run With It


Mikhail_icon.gif Fenton_icon.gif

Summary: Mikhail makes Fenton his new art subject. Fenton spots Mikhail. Cue chase music.

Date It Happened: October 22nd, 2007

Run With It

Central Park

His uncle had sent him his acoustic guitar. It was something of a walk to the post office from his place, but walks never killed him, and most of the time he'd be getting around by foot back home. Now Fenton sits on a bench, the late afternoon sun casting lengthy shadows. The case of the guitar lies open at his feet, packing tape and shipping labels long since ripped off and discarded. The young man sits near the edge of the bench, and having just finished tuning the instrument he now begins to strum a few chords. Eventually he starts to pick out the opening notes to "Hotel California," fingers dancing across the frets of the fingerboard, his eyes watching the vibrating strings.
The clinking ring of coins is what draws his attention away from the guitar, although his fingers continue to move as though having a mind of their own. Grey-green eyes shift towards the pair of people walking past and away from him, continuing along the walkway, then he looks down at his guitar case where they'd discarded their pocket change and- oh hey, a dollar, even.


And not too far away from it all…or above it, somewhat, there is someone else hanging around. Literally? Maybe. In the nook where a low branch meets the main trunk of a slightly bent old tree, Mikhail perches. And draws. Outside of assignment, more of a free study of animals, things and people. The ballpoint pen leaves trails of swirling feathers and metal frames, random arms and hands. Another robot fish. That doesn't fit with anything.

He looks up when he hears the sound of music, a familiar tune he's heard often on his media player. Eyes then watch as Fenton gathers random bits of change. Ah, so he's performing for money? An eyebrow quirks as Miki leans forward.


He stares at the money for perhaps a full minute, and by then he's already nearing the end of the song. Finally he shakes his head and looks back down at his guitar, winding down the bit of the creepy melody while noting that it's decidedly less creepy when you're sitting in a park like this. He'll have to find somewhere with good acoustics. Maybe a cathedral. He recalls seeing one some ways down from Madison Square Garden.
Perhaps something a little more upbeat. Fenton flexes his fingers and then launches into Green Day's "When September Ends." Okay, maybe not -that- upbeat, but he's one of the types that feel there's a lot missing when you don't have at least the accompaniment of percussion. It doesn't take him too long to get into the song enough that he begins to sing- nothing that would ever have him be chosen as lead vocalist, but at least he's in tune. And it's apparently enough to get him a few more donations of whatever people have in their pockets as they pass him by. He lifts his head, finally offering a quiet thanks or a nod for the hand-outs, not sure whether to be embarrassed or consider this as a serious side-job.


Shoot, he knows that one too. The artist squints, drawing a loose sketch of Fenton's form on the new page. Details slowly fill in as he looks back and forth from the pad to the unintentional street musician, pausing to measure things out with the pen length. A habit from class, honest.

And then, another robot fish. He really has to stop doing that.

Mikhail starts again, observing Fenton for a period of time before drawing. Shapes, lines, crosshatching - the works. If he had something to color with, he'd do it.


….did you ever have the feeling you was being watched?

Fenton's starting to feel it now, especially since he's just about finished playing the song. He looks around, then stands from the bench before kneeling by the case to scoop all the change into one little pile so he can stuff it into the compartment along with the extra strings and his other picks. Then, almost reverently, he places his guitar in its case and closes the thing up, latches all secured before he picks it up by the handle. And once again he looks.
Now that he's not restricted to one specific angle, he can finally get a glimpse of the tree and the unnatural growth it sports. Fenton blinks as he spies the shoes first, and he works his way up to the figure perched there. Sketching. What? Oh no, he's become a subject of…art. Quickly he turns around and begins to walk away down the path… before he breaks into a run.


That 'growth' begs to differ. Mikhail stops midway, his blue gray eyes meeting with Fenton's after the packing of his stuff is over and done.

Oh. Spotted.

The Asian remains frozen in place as he continues watching the other youth move slowly. And then his subject goes running. Hey, he's not done yet! Clicking his tongue, Mikhail jumps off the branch, crouching and feeling the impact of his messenger bag hitting him before running after Fenton.

The chase is on.


Oh, he heard that. Footsteps- he's chasing him? Bugger.

Shouldering his guitar case, Fenton pulls the strap tighter around his hand to keep it from flopping about as he picks up speed. The faint strains of a song begin to worm its way into his head- he's the type that has a playlist going most of the time, even when not plugged into an iPod.

A wince flashes across his face; "La Bamba"? Really?

The edge of the park is in sight, and Fenton dashes right on out, turning to continue his run down the sidewalk. He throws a look over his shoulder to see if he's still being followed.


If Mikhail tuned into the same mental station as Fenton did, then he'd be laughing at this. Of course, it doesn't help that he's seeing everything similar to the frozen frames of a comic book or storyboard. He's not too far behind from the other guy - in fact, the gap starts closing and opening with each hurried step taken. Pretty good. Sometimes the artist wishes he didn't lag so much with his running abilities.

Eyes do catch Fenton's turn as he finally reaches the edge as well, skidding around the same corner. The bag swings wide, almost hitting an important-looking lady walking her two little dogs in sweaters, a curse storm following after he half-yells an apology back. Look - she made him lose a couple of seconds, and his art subject is far off over there. At least he's still in sight! Pushing himself, Miki runs, dodging a couple of other people on the way.


Only one thing on his mind now- run. He isn't even really sure why he's running, only that he should. It's only natural when someone's giving chase, and sadly, it is something Fenton's become quite used to.
He's still going strong as they get into the more convoluted streets, more familiar territory for him. Easier to lose someone when there's obstacles to do so with. Fenton ducks past people and slips down a side street. Faster, faster, run, keep running- play something better on the mental station, please!


Run, run, run, as fast as he can. He just can't catch up with the guitar-playing man. Well, he's making good time, and with more people appearing, it just gets more tricky. Why are there people appearing out of nowhere?!

…Actually, why was he chasing Fenton in the first place? Is it because he's a subject that's getting away? Is it because he wants to hear more music? Or is he just doing this just because it's there?

With a abrupt groan, Mikhail ducks past two men moving something that looked like a desk, whirling around before jumping past another woman on her cell phone. He then runs past a jogger, a bum, and a group of now-bewildered Japanese tourists. Yeah, this is going to be on his life record, but he can still see that Fenton is there.

He'd yell, but that takes some effort.


If Fenton had the chance to stop and think about it, he'd find this incredibly stupid. But thinking on it would mean thinking back, and right now his mind is on the forward. If he paused to reflect, he'd probably run into a wall.

…a wall.

It occupies but a brief second in the current span of his thoughts, but usually that's all it takes. He doesn't even steal another glance back, just keeps running. Mikhail might find his progress suddenly hindered though. Ever see those commercials where the glass cleaner gets it so clear that things go ramming right into the sliding doors? Same principle. Save… there's really no glass doors.


Good, this section doesn't have as many other bodies occupying the space. Sneakers screech against the pavement, Mikhail's chest feeling like it was about to burst from all of the exercise he's getting today. Right, stay on target. There's just something interesting about this guy that he can't put his finger on.

And when he decides to up his speed, he runs into something.

The crash isn't pretty, and from his point of view everything blurs together. The art student lands backward and rolls, eyes wide open as his thoughts are scattered. What…just happened?! All he can see now is the top of a building, a lamp post, and the sky.

"…." His attempts to get back up takes several tries. Hands push off of the floor as Mikhail cranes his neck, still confused with the fact that there is nothing there in the middle of the sidewalk.


Fenton's long gone too, likely not even aware of what befell the unfortunate art student. He continues on, slowing as things get progressively more crowded now that he's come out onto another main street. But here in New York, what street -wasn't-? There are people everywhere, and where there weren't people, there were taxis. It's ridiculous.
Seeing as it's pointless to keep running lest he start knocking people over with his guitar case, Fenton eventually ends up at a mere walking pace, sliding into a Borders. If that stalker is still tailing him, he'll just wait it out here. He's been meaning to pick up a copy of King Henry V anyway…


Minutes pass. Mikhail is now off of the sidewalk, hands dusting off his jacket and pantlegs. Although his head still feels like it's whirling, he somehow regains the equilibrium needed to walk without falling over. Eyes narrow as they scan the streets. Now, where did he go…

At this rate, it's going to be impossible to find his person of interest. At the Borders, he stops outside of one of the large windows, pausing to look around. Looking inside doesn't help, either. Shrugging, he moves on. If he can't find him, then that's it.

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