2007-07-03: That Day Was Nuts


Jane_icon.gif Evelyn_icon.gif

Summary: Jane explores the wind damaged area in the East Village and meets someone who was there.

Date It Happened: July 3rd, 2007

That Day Was Nuts

East Village, Manhattan, NYC

She's walking at the moment, but then again she does a lot of this, all over the city. Decent amounts of her free time are still spent finding and occupying decent spots to play guitar, even though she no longer needs to do so for her financial needs. Because it's enjoyable when she's happy, soothing when she's in less pleasant moods. A good outlet that doesn't involve screaming, because her scream is dangerous and not to be unleashed often. As is customary for her she's carrying the guitar case and backpack over her shoulders, this time clad in all black with shorts and athletic shoes. Her t-shirt features the Pretenders this time.

Jane's expression is stormy, something is eating at her. Those walking feet are taking her toward the bookstore Cass owns, her phone out and in use. But after a moment she stares at the display and ends whatever call she'd been on, not made happier by the result. A detour is taken, her path shifting to the area under repairs after the freak wind event.

After avoiding this place for the past two and a half weeks, Evelyn decided to see what it looks like now. A fit of whimsy she regretted before ever getting here, but she didn't turn back. At present, the teen sits on the steps of a building just within the wind-battered zone, backpack listing forgotten by her feet. She wears a dark red blouse and black shorts, clipboard balanced on one knee. The half-finished sketch on the paper is recognizably the buildings under repair, though Evelyn is distracted from it by the sound of footsteps. She pulls the edge of the clipboard up so the sketch isn't easily visible, looking over to see who's approaching.

The she who approaches is five feet eight inches in height, a twenty something brunette who attaches the jPhone to her hip and walks slowly, letting her eyes wander around the area. Jane stops a few feet short of the clipboard holder, apparently not spotting her, and shakes her head a time or two. This detour, it seems, is drawing her inner storms away from the focus they'd had, a question of her own potential behavior in response to a thing someone else did regarding her roommate, the ethical dilemma and question of loyalty it brings into mental debate. It's moved on to wondering how this happened, if it was truly a random event or if someone did it in the same fashion as she witnessed at Battery Park and later at Times Square.

She's also vaguely familiar, but Evelyn can say that of a lot of people. Including some that just look familiar, whom she's never actually met. The girl watches Jane for a bit, eventually concluding that the woman's just another sightseer scoping out the damage. She shifts position, causing the pencil to roll off the clipboard and clatter against two or three stairs in succession. More quietly, the drawing utensil makes its way down to the sidewalk, forcing Evelyn to set the clipboard aside and get up to go retrieve it. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail today, meaning the breeze can only tug at the ends and not whip it in her face.

"Damn," she eventually murmurs. Her mind is flashing an image of the photographed painting she was shown, of a tornado wreaking havoc in the city, and wondering if this was maybe done by who or whatever might cause it. And it turns toward the only suspect she knows of, a young Filipina whose sister works for the Company. One she would hope was taken in and helped to gain control over the ability. It's only moments later her attention is drawn by the nearby sketcher and the utensil she's after. If it moves her way, she'll bend down to pick it up and offer it back.

At the bottom of the stairs, Evelyn picks up her pencil; straightening, the girl gives Jane a faintly sheepish smile. "Hi," she greets politely. "Sorry. Didn't mean to distract you." Even if the expression on Jane's face earlier suggested a distraction was fairly well in order; it wasn't /deliberate/. Violet eyes glance over to the damage, as if to try and see whatever Jane was seeing. Of course, it doesn't work, and Evelyn looks back to the woman in short order. "Looks like they have a ways to go still."

"Hey," she replies quietly, eyes taking in the girl slowly as she straightens. "Nothing to worry about, distracting me," Jane adds in a somber voice. Her eyes return to looking around the area, now perhaps focusing on locating small pieces of cinder blocks and concrete she could collect to practice with and possibly advance the limits of her own ability. Samples she gathered the evening she found Portia around here are stored back at her apartment for that purpose. "Three times recently something like this has happened," she murmurs.

Evelyn nods to Jane, smiling reflexively. She watches the woman study the cityscape, blinking in surprise at the quieter remark. "Three?" the teen echoes, clearly surprised. Moving back up the steps, she tucks the pencil under the clip and sits back down. "I didn't know that. Thought they decided it was, like, a freak one-time thing."

"I saw two of them myself," she answers. "The first swept a boy and some other people into the water at the ferry landing for trips to the Statue of Liberty. I wound up turning my guitar straps and the strap from some guy's camera into rope to help pull people out, with whatever guys were around anchoring me and helping pull. Then I was at Times Square a few weeks later. A tornado happened, then an earthquake."

"…Wow." That's all Evelyn can say for a minute, as she turns this over in her head. Running her hands through her ponytail, she glances over at the wind-struck buildings, then back to Jane. "That's some weird wea- …" Wait a minute. An earthquake? The click of the girl's teeth is almost loud enough to carry. And she looks away, regarding the debris with a pensive expression.

Not picking up on anything from the girl's expression, missing the snap of teeth, Jane remarks "Weird, yes. It was about two months ago," she replies quietly. "Can't remember what the papers said, but it definitely felt like an earthquake, being there." She takes a few steps forward, perhaps spotting a small piece of cinder block for her collection.

"I think that was before I really started reading the paper," Evelyn admits idly. She glimpses Jane walking over in the edge of her vision, but doesn't look away from the streets quite yet. "Oh, I believe you," the girl assures her companion, if in a muted tone. A beat, then, "Just missing fire and water." It's an attempt at levity that comes out very flat. Not even Evelyn is much amused by the thought.

Her backpack is slung off the shoulder holding it and opened, the piece of block is deposited inside and the pack returned to where it was after reclosing. Her eyes turn toward the girl, she murmurs something that sounds like "God forbid." Jane reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of stretchy cloth, holds it in her mouth, and gathers up her hair to pull it back into a ponytail and fasten it with the cloth. Briefly visible are a pair of parallel marks just past the curve of her neck.

Distracted by her own thoughts - namely, what a bad circumstance /that/ would be, a track parallel enough to Jane's own - Evelyn doesn't notice either the woman's remark nor the marks on her neck. Rather, her gaze falls to the sketch on her board, lips drawing back in a thin, humorless smile. Then the teen sweeps up the clipboard and drops it into the open pocket of her backpack, zipping it closed afterwards. No more of that.

She doesn't say what she collected the fragment for. Her hands move away once the ponytail is secure and the marks are again hidden as Jane goes back to regarding the area and thinking. She could, she supposes, take some of the samples of cinder block she collected to Cat and ask her to touch them, to see if any vision which might identify a person involved with this surfaces, but that seems a fairly long shot. Needle in the haystack, to find something from just the right spot.

Looking back to Jane - seeking a distraction from her own thoughts, perhaps - Evelyn considers the woman for a bit, regarding her sidelong. There's looking, and then… "What are you looking for?" the teen asks curiously. Maybe the block's supposed to be a memento or something; she can understand that. Either way, /that/ question, she doesn't ask.

She isn't a bigtime scientist by any means, no, but she did spend a lot of time in school, and a number of those courses were things not related to her degree targets but required nonetheless, and there's also logic. Winds blow, after all, and they have to originate from somewhere. Jane steps forward into the street and starts slowly letting her eyes wander, taking in the apparent size of the damaged area to note the ends of it. Then she's walking toward what seems the likely center of that area, something of a focus settling onto her features. If she can find the centerpoint, that's probably where it all started, samples there could be useful. "I'm just curious about something," she replies while moving.

…That's not an answer. As Jane moves off towards a spot Evelyn remembers fairly well, the girl stands back up, swinging her backpack up onto one shoulder. She follows in the woman's wake, her own curiosity evidently piqued. "Such as…?" Evelyn prompts, although her steps slow just a bit as they move further into the damage zone, her gaze ranging over the closer buildings, the remnants of broken trees.

"Where it started," she replies, not having the first clue the source is following her toward that spot. Jane stops in the general vicinity and returns to looking around. It could be a lot of things, she reasons. This to her seems the approximate center, but unless the wind came from the middle of the street it could also have been closer to a building on either side. So she looks for any evidence which might indicate such a location more clearly.

"Oh." Evelyn picks a likely-looking spot to stand - one that is /not/ terribly close to the epicenter - and watches Jane go about her searching. She opts not to supply any hints, although the fleeting thought of playing hot-and-cold /is/ kind of amusing. But… The woman is an unknown. And her interest is starting to be worrisome. "Why do you want to know? I mean, what does it matter?" Evelyn steadfastly ignores the breeze that toys with her hair (and probably Jane's too), though she suspects it's her own concern that has made the air currents fitful.

As that breeze toys with her hair, the marks on the back of her neck are once again visible. Jane moves into the spot she thinks was the center of that disturbance, and looks around there for anything she might collect and take to get touched by a psychometrist, if there's anything at all to be found. After all, for all she knows the Company may have already taken this angle for the same reason, but they might not have. Doesn't hurt to look in any case, and given the stakes, the chance of a big tornado touching down, it's definitely worth the effort.

Jane doesn't answer, and Evelyn takes the hint. The girl just folds her arms across her chest and watches the woman study the ground, hoping the butterflies in her stomach don't show in her expression. The sidewalk has been swept (and trampled quite a bit) in the time since the storm, but there's still small tree, glass, and brick bits in the gutter and in the lee of the tall brick building close by. Much like there are everywhere else.

Her eyes take in the assorted debris, and soon the backpack is again off her shoulders to be opened. Jane rummages around inside it, looking for something she might use to keep things from this spot separate from others and make the task easier for anyone reading the items. Finding nothing, she sets the guitar case down and opens that. A sampling of bits and pieces is placed inside, then things are closed up and pulled back onto her shoulders. That breeze, if it remains, once again exposes the marks on her neck. Soon the woman is making her way back over toward Evelyn, looking thoughtful. It wouldn't, at this point, be much of a stretch to conclude she knows about powers and was conducting some sort of private recon.

For her part, Evelyn looks mostly puzzled. And a bit wary, but Jane is an oddly-behaving stranger to her, so that's only to be expected. If the marks are noticed, the girl doesn't comment on them; she instead gives the guitar case a doubtful look. "Won't that hurt the instrument?" Let's try a different subject on for size.
"No real choice," Jane replies, her eyes settling on the girl when she speaks. "I didn't think about bringing plastic bags with me to keep things in, and I wanted those to be separate." A slip? Saying something she might not have wanted to, which makes her investigatory thoughts more apparent? Most likely. Seconds later when she catches herself, she tries to think of a cover for her actions. "Got a friend who uses things like this to make art. Or what she calls art."

The teen gives Jane a rather dubious look. She's quiet for a bit, giving her cover story the benefit of the doubt… but… the more Evelyn thinks about it, the less it adds up. Jane might get the impression that the breeze becomes just that bit stronger, its direction even less constant. If a wind could be apprehensive… Frowning, the girl turns away, looking back to where they started at. "Why does she care where they're from, or that they're separate?" She shouldn't ask. The questions give away too much - at least, Evelyn thinks so. But she can't not ask.

How to respond to that requires a bit of thought, the time for which presents a hesitation to perhaps undermine her claims further. But neccessary, because Jane can't just come out and say there are people with powers and there was a painting which predicted a devastating New York tornado her friends suspect would be caused by a person with Evolved talents. Or… can she? Her eyes rest on Evelyn as she mulls this over, and in the end she opts to quietly ask "You were here then, weren't you? I'd say you wouldn't believe me if I told you why I'm interested, but, maybe you would."

/You were here/… All through Jane's silence, Ev' continues to look away, letting her think on her response, whatever lie or truth it turns out to be - but those three words cause her to whip back around, her expression momentarily unguarded. Wary, afraid; then the mask settles into place. "So tell me, then," the teen prompts. It's almost, though not quite, a challenge - Try me. Go ahead.

"Suppose," she begins, speaking in a solemn tone, "there were people who could to things outside the scope of what people should be able to. And one of them, or even more that one, had an ability like that Storm character in the X-Men. And maybe one of those persons was really new to it. Doesn't quite have control over her gift. She could have done this. If that were true, it would be very important to find her, and lead her to people who can help get control. Or, the other possibility, she has things under control and did this on purpose, in which case she's dangerous and others need to be involved, so the public is protected." Jane pauses, asking after that brief silence "Would that sound totally nuts to you?"

The girl doesn't answer immediately. Silence lends itself to doubts - maybe she doesn't believe. But after a few moments, violet eyes shift to the fractured bricks and blocks, the shredded trees. "That day was nuts," Evelyn says softly. "There was… I don't know, a gang drive-by or something. Guns, anyway. Then the whole block exploded." And you have… this. Her gaze flicks back to Jane. "The papers left out the first part," the teen adds, tone dry. A pause. "It's as good an explanation as any," she concludes. "Probably better than most." Funny thing - the breeze dies off.

The girl's tale leads her down a path which may or may not bring her to complete truth, but at least it's a portion of it. "A gang drive-by," Jane repeats musingly, pensive. "So, then, it's very possible a person with Stormesque gifts was here then, and scared by the shooting. She, if she doesn't have control over the gift, freaked out and lost it, the wind came. Did you see anyone who that might've been? It's important, really important, to find that person and get her some help with things."

Did she see her? Only in a mirror. Violet eyes narrow slightly before Evelyn shakes her head. "I was trying not to get shot, and then trying to figure out where the street went," she points out dryly. All perfectly true; all quite false, or at least misleading. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she turns away from Jane, which lets Evelyn bite her lip as she hopes the woman doesn't finish connecting all her dots…

"And yet you came back here," Jane softly adds. "That in itself makes me wonder. It might even have been you. It might not. It's smart not to admit things so easily. People with these abilities need to stay under the radar. Society doesn't react well to people who are different. History books are filled with witch hunts, inquisitions, pogroms, holocausts. No one wants to end up being studied for years on end like a lab rat. But to get a handle on things, they still need to at times take leaps of faith and get help. Sticking together is important." She pulls the phone from her hip and brings up the display to show her number. 283-2260. "Call me if you feel like talking." Then she turns and starts to slowly walk back the way she came, leaving the ball in Evelyn's court.

"I decided I needed to see it again," Evelyn supplies. Still, she obediently tucks the number away in memory when Jane gives it; her words are similarly filed, if otherwise met without comment. The girl doesn't immediately walk away from the epicenter, but looks around once more, shifting the weight of the pack on her back - then she follows Jane out to where they first crossed paths.

She walks along, leaving the area known as the East Village, making her way back to the midtown area eventually. Jane's pensiveness resumes, the storms once again brewing with the distraction of mulling the wind over and speaking with the girl. Maybe it was her, maybe it wasn't. Maybe she just made a huge error giving her number out, but in any case it doesn't feature her handwriting, and there isn't anything she can't deny if need be. She simply hopes if it was her she'll make contact and get help, not lose it again and draw Company attention. Not to mention the potential of killing someone and doing property damage. Or even making the Mendez art be true.

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