Logfile from M3
You enter the London - Park District.
London - Park District
The noise of the rest of the city subsides as the Park district unfolds before you. Consisting of numerous zoos and a plethora of protected woods, this is where technology and nature meet as one. Most beautiful and inspiring of all are the parks built onto massive blocked platforms, where the roots can be seen growing from beneath when viewed from below. Songbirds and small woodland animals frolic through the woods, and those with enough money can even live here, though the majority of them work for the city zoos and animal control systems.
Contents: Contents:
North <N>: London - Western Residential
East <E>: London - Southern Residential
Abernathy arrives from the London - Western Residential.
Abernathy has arrived.
He never actually got around to that sandwich-and-book-in-Hyde-Park business, though he'd certainly intended to. Now, it seems he will have the time, since he's effectively grounded. But I guess that's what happens when you get stabbed.
Sandwich and book in hand, Andruw-Feste ambles out to find a shady tree somewhere, where he can just rest in peace. He's sore, tired, and not in the best state of mind, either. Grr. It's another one of those 'disturb me and I'll shoot you' days again...
Now, normally, Feste is not a difficult person to find -- just look for the crowd of bemused onlookers, and ask after the tallish blond man with red eyes who left them in such a state. However, when the Fool's not in his public persona, it sort of invalidates that method of tracking. So Abernathy had had to resort to the basics of his job -- ha! -- and actually do a little investigative work, starting when he found Feste had slipped the hospital. Then it was on to London, to the only other real haunt of Feste's Abernathy knew -- the Plague Rat -- where the trail had dissolved, and Abby had resorted to -- yes -- asking around.
That had gotten him this far. So it is a slightly less than incongruous figure in black -- complete with broad-brimmed hat, pulled low over his eyes; Abernathy does not normally wander during the day, the cardinal reason being the LARGE BURNING BALL OF HYDROGEN GAS in the sky -- is ambling with definite purpose through Hyde Park, looking for a certain Fool.
Yes, he /thought/ today maybe he'd get some time off to rest. Just to rest and relax and not have to speak to anyone. It would be nice. And besides, it wasn't like he could stay in his apartment all day. Had to go outside...so he's here.
Andruw-Feste carefully flops down underneath a large oak tree, leaning his back against it. Yes. Now, he can eat his sandwich. And read. Thank God. He sighs again, those this time more out of content. He's still in minor pain, but...it's going to be okay.
Ha ha. Poor Fool. CHAOS WILL NEVER LET HIM REST --
Or maybe that's not Chaos, it's just Abernathy. Who is about as annoying and a great deal more charming, when he wants to be. After a minute or so's happless wandering, he accosts a likely looking pedestrian to inquire after the distinctive Fool. And is, in short order, pointed in the direction of Feste's tree. Look out, Fool. Dark shadow inbound, and he looks ... surprisingly at ease, all things considered.
Damn those pedestrians! Er.
Andruw-Feste is still utterly oblivious. He's revelling in the beautiful day -- sunshine filtering through the tree, the cool air of the shade, low humidity, leaf in his sandwich... it's just great. Oh wait. Leaf. Don't want to eat that.
He idly flicks it aside and takes a bite -- whoahey. What /is/ that...?
A ghost.
Or perhaps a goth, either way, it's Abernathy. (cheer) He glances up from under the hat, once, confirming his target -- then returns to watching the grass as he ambles treeward, hands tucked into his pockets. Casual, thy name is ... well, certainly not him. He looks a little out of place in a sunny, cheerful park.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission to Dr. Nathan Xiang.
You activate your radio.
You activate your radio intercept ability.
Andruw-Feste peers at the black shadow appearing on just the edge of his radar and idly flicks on his radio. It's time he kept his ears open again.... especially if that's who he thinks it is.
He takes another bite of sandwich -- ham and swiss! -- even as he eyes Abby-ghost-goth suspiciously. Another sigh. It never ends.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Dr. Nathan Xiang.
You intercept Dr. Nathan Xiang's transmission to Abernathy: Mmm. And how did you explain this to Melissa? Anyhow. I wanted to offer my services as a doctor if they are needed. While I imagine all you really need is first aid, and rest. Also - I want to check on how the sutures held up... in a fight. Tsk.
Speaking of radios, Abernathy has been distracted by his. Though he only pauses to subvocalize a comment into it once, before continuing his wander across the grass. Once he reaches the tree, he ATTACKS FE -- err. He nods politely to the Fool, before taking a seat on the grass on the other side of the tree. And not /saying/ anything to Feste. The whole point of the exercise was the make sure the Fool was all right, after all ...
Abernathy sends a radio transmission to Dr. Nathan Xiang.
You intercept Abernathy's transmission to Dr. Nathan Xiang: Truthfully. And I already had the wounds looked at. I'll be fine. As will the sutures. Do you doubt your own handiwork?
Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Dr. Nathan Xiang.
You intercept Dr. Nathan Xiang's transmission to Abernathy: Of course not. However, fistcuffs is a bit more stress than normal. Admittedly, it has been several weeks - which is why I am not insisting that I see you immediately. If you had things looked at, then I am content.
Mm, so it -is- him. Andruw-Feste sighs his fourth wordless sigh for the past fifteen minutes -- at his radio. Does he really want to listen to this?
The decision: no.
He turns his radio back off, and returns to that sandwich. He is, in fact, alive, breathing, and not bleeding (too much), although he does look a bit worse for wear. Probably could've stood a day or two more in the hospital...
You deactivate your radio.
You deactivate your radio intercept ability.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Dr. Nathan Xiang.
Oh so. Well, that was perfectly fine. But to avoid looking silly, Abernathy has made an executive decision to sit here under this tree for the next fifteen minutes, before beginning the gradual peregrination back to Seoul. So it is he offers his own radio a quiet sigh -- before leaning back against the tree, hands tucked behind his head, eyes trained on the leafy canopy above. Relaxing. Yes, he needed to do some of that.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Dr. Nathan Xiang.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission.
Hm. So they can just sit here in silence. Relaxing. Well, that's just...no good. Somehow.
"Afternoon," Andruw-Feste offers quietly to his 'companion' of sorts on the other side of the tree.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission.
"Good afternoon," the Abernathy on the other side of the tree replies, still gazing up at the leaves. He sounds calm. "How're your ribs? Feeling better, I hope." There is a definite note of contrition in his tone. Not quite an apology, but contrition.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission to Dr. Nathan Xiang.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission to Dr. Nathan Xiang.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Dr. Nathan Xiang.
Abernathy sends a radio transmission.
"Quite," answers Andruw-Feste, sounding mildly subdued. They do, in fact, feel better -- less of that stabbing sort of pain, now it's more dull...and...okay, so it still hurts like a b*tch. But hey. And those painkillers should be wearing off in an hour (ow.). "And you?"
"Dosed on enough morphine I have to concentrate hard to see straight," Abernathy replies, truthfully. "But mending, otherwise. Nothing important injured?" One of his immediate worries (after the momentary 'score! i hit you, you fruitcake!' celebratory thoughts) was that he might have left Feste with a punctured lung. Nasty business, that.
[OOC] Abernathy ponders how disturbing the Civs are. "Well. You have a scary undead albino goth running the International Police Force, and he spends a lot of his time hanging out with a guy who thinks he's a Shakespeare character. One of his other acquaintances is a schizoid 'mad scientist' who believes strongly in innocence despite the fact one of his hobbies is turning people into nasty biomechanical monsters. Other merry participants in the madhouse include the woman who has a typical redhead's temper and loves her tank more than most people, a drunken sorcerer who is slowly going insane, Ernie the straight kid who only the gay guys hit on, Ed and his 'leeser teg', the reploid trying to revive disco, a fish-man who toasts his socks ... "
Morphine? Andruw mouths. Morphine? Bloody hell! I want some morphine... He shakes his head briefly. Feh.
"Yes, I think so. They did let me out, after all." After some... persuading.
Power has its privileges, and lots of 'em, too. Mmm. Morphine. "Quite true." Persuading? At gun-point, perhaps? That always helped.
Abernathy then falls silent, wiggling his shoulders slightly to get comfortable against the tree. Mmm. Comfortable. Relaxing.
Feste is innocent. Really. He just asked nicely. Really, really nicely...
Hm. So...that's it, then. Andruw-Feste returns to his sandwich, unsure of just what it is he should be doing or saying... and if it even matters. Gah. He could certainly use some of that morphine.
Well. That was nice. Back to not talking; though Abernathy could certainly pass most of his time just sitting here in companionable silence. That, or he's dozing off from all that morphine. ... More the latter. There's a minute or so of total silence from the other side of the tree, then a brief, startled gasp -- that would be Abby dozing off and snapping awake again.
He pauses a moment, then gives a slight shake of his head, before rustling around in that satchel he's always carrying around. Doing what? Looking for something. Looking for? A tangerine. Yes.
And Andruw is perfectly fine with silences, even mildly awkward ones. He leans his head back against the tree, still...eating that sandwich. Mf.
At that startled gasp he leeeans over -- on his good side, so as not to cause himself unnecessary pain -- to take a look. Is Abby okay? Has he keeled over and died, however spontaneously?! Oh. He's just asleep. Okay then. Andruw leans back over to his side of the tree, reaching for his book.
No, Abernathy is quite alive. And awake, though the brief momentary confusion of dozing off and waking up again means he missed Feste's little concerned look. (aw) No longer on the verge of keeling over and falling asleep in the grass, though, he locates his tangerine and begins peeling it idly. Fragrant things, tangerines are.
Feste sniffs. Tangerine, whatwhat? ...eh. He has his sammich! Pft, tangerine...
He briefly opens his book -- a dogeared copy of Twelfth Night! -- but...decides against it, and sets it aside for later. Hrm.
Pft, tangerine? Well, fine. Not all of us can be carnivores, eating the FLESH of other living beings in the form of ham and swiss sandwiches. Abernathy will just eat his tangerine, like a good little vegetarian. Once he finishes peeling it, at any rate, which he works on, industriously. Not that it takes particularly long, and now there's a little pile of tangerine peel scraps in the grass next to him.
The noise of the Feste on the other side of the tree looking at his book does not go unheard. Abernathy idly begins segmenting the tangerine, fussing with the white stringy mebranous bits as he does. "Restless?"
Andruw Nisse, bloodthirsty carnivore! Destroyer of pigs! And...dairy cows.
Feste chuckles quietly, eyeing the book where it sits on the ground. "A bit."
Murderer!
Now that he's actually got the tangerine /peeled/, Abernathy can FEAST ON THE INNOCENT BLOOD OF THE FRUIT. Or, just ... like ... eat it. Which he does, one segment at a time. Neurosis. "Mm. I see."
So you say, thinks Andruw. So you say, but of course... He takes in a deep breath and begins to sing, softly. More to himself, but Abernathy will certainly be able to hear.
I never believed it could happen to me o/`
o/` Something like this only happens to dumb girls
Taking themselves too seriously o/`
o/` I was so damn smart
I was the one girl o/`
o/` Who never believed it could happen to me
Something like this only happens to somebody else! o/`
Abernathy pauses mid-tangerine, arching one white brow as he listens to the lyrics. So, Andruw has gender-identity problems? *smack* Ahh ... right. Abernathy returns to eating his tangerine, though he is listening. Hm. Puzzling. Is there a message here? Is he thinking about this too hard? Probably. Mmm, tangerine ...
o/` I miss you so much, Can't stand it
You bring out the blonde in me
'Cause I'm still hanging on o/`
Even though you done me wrong.
o/` And I got the heart to forgive this
But I'd never let you know.
What kind of girl would put herself o/`
In that postition?
To think that I could ever fight the system
And I got fooled again!o/`
He continues, still singing quietly, only for Abernathy-Adrian's ears, with just a hint of irony. Yeah. Just a *tad*...
Abernathy finishes off the tangerine with the same meticulous care with which he started it, once again folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. Interesting, how in only a short time, they've both managed to turn song into an oddly elliptical form of communication, he reflects.
Isn't it? Andruw has always known -- or always thought, at least -- that often one could use music to express things simple words could not. The kind of thing you pick up from being in a band.
o/` Something like this only happens to dumb girls, takin' themselves too seriously... o/`
Abernathy smiles thinly to himself, turning possible responses to THAT over in his head. None come to mind immediately -- surprise! -- so he remains silent, still thinking. Hm. Perhaps Feste/Andruw might have a little commentary of his own on the matter ... or not.
o/` I was so damn smart, I was the one girl! o/`
My, he seems more cheery than before. Hm. But...that's quite enough for now. Andruw-Feste leans his head back against the tree again, finding a significant lack of more sandwich. Curses! And...there's that book...
Ahh, how to respond, how to respond ... aha. Abernathy bides his time a moment more -- before gathering up his satchel and easing around the tree, to ... sit next to Andruw-Feste. Not too close for comfort, and still keeping his hands to himself (my!), but ... there he is. Seems sitting on the opposite side of the tree got a little lonely.
Ah, /hello!/ Andruw smirks to himself -- should he count this as a victory? ...wait. Just what *is* he doing, anyway?
"Interesting song, yes?" he says quietly, idly reaching for his book to...turn it over. Probably too late to stop Abby from seeing it, but... eh...
"I would say so," Abernathy agrees, mildly -- before glancing around Andruw at the book. (doom!) Noting the title, he glances to Andruw again, and gives him a half-smile. "Studying up?" he inquires, tone ... just this side of snarky. More teasing.
"A bit," Andruw replies, giving Abby one of those disarming smiles. "I thought I might need to brush up, if you know what I mean."
High-voltage smile! My my. Now, if Abby were a little less jaded, he might have been completely taken aback by that smile. But, alas, he is not, so he merely blinks in very mild surprise. "I think I do," he ventures, punctuating the comment with a slight nod. "Though I'd thought you'd have it all memorized by now."
Tempted to tell him to quit playing coy, Andruw merely holds that smile -- though it's now less high-voltage. "Oh, I suppose I do, but... you know. Better in print sometimes." He pauses a moment, looking away. "Maybe I should try to find a copy in Italian. Or French. I know they have those."
Perhaps that's for the best. High-intensity smiles could melt hearts, you know. Not that Abby's got much of a heart left to be melted, but ... well. He glances away from Andruw after a moment, gazing off at nothing in particular. "Yes, I know. And I'm sure they do; I've a copy in Russian ... somewhere." He blinks at some thought.
Now that Abby's gone and glanced away, Andruw looks back at him. Hm. Hey, a split lip. Point to the Norwegian fruitcake!
"Oh, yes? You know, you did tell me you would teach me Russian," Andruw-Feste casually remarks.
Oh, yes, that. Abby's looking just a little messed up today; the split lip is most noticeable, though the slight bruising certainly contributes. "So I did," is Abernathy's reply. "Is there any particular time you'd like to take me up on that offer?"
Gabriel arrives from the London - Western Residential.
Gabriel has arrived.
Andruw-Feste shrugs amiably. "Whatever time is good for you. My current employment allows for quite a bit of free time," he answers -- with a wink.
"This weekend, perhaps?" There's something a little too casual in the way Abby says that -- though he misses the wink, as he gazes off at nothing. Then his gaze flicks to Feste, and he quirks one corner of his mouth in a slight smile. "Or next, whichever you prefer. I can be flexible."
There's a pause, and he looks slightly distracted -- cochlear radios, whoopee -- before his focus returns. " ... And I imagine we can discuss details later. I've been called away. Good afternoon, dear Fool, and -- " He leans over, slightly, as if to whisper in Andruw's ear ... and gives the Fool a quick peck on the cheek. A rogue, that Adrian! " -- there is nothing stupid about this." And with that, he gets to his feet, grabs his satchel ... and heads off.
"Whichever," Andruw murmurs. He plans on doing some convalescing for a while, anyhow... so whichever.
Called away, hm? The Fool quirks an eyebrow as Adrian leans in dangerously close -- oh no! -- and...
Well, he /should/ have known. He shouldn't have been all that surprised, but... somehow that simple peck takes his breath away.
Andruw closes his eyes as Abernathy takes off. Lost in thought, perhaps... or in the moment. My, my! "Farvel," he whispers after the retreating Abernathy's form.