|Scene Title||<A Fish Out of Water>|
|Synopsis||<A social scene>|
everal blocks of buildings add together to form the Seaport, a medium-sized complex on the bank of the East River. Pier 17 is home to the major complex, two level tall with gift shops on the lower level, restaurant and bar on the upper level - a definite tourist trap. Clean corners and straight surfaces make it plain yet visually appealing, bright on sunny days and calm at night. One of the best views is to the North, as the massive Brooklyn Bridge towers skywards and stretches across the water to Long Island and Brooklyn - it leaves from just north of the Seaport.
Ferry rides leave from here, paddlewheelers, steamboats and even more modern ships, traveling up and down the river, some all the way around Manhattan. Elsewhere in the area there's the Boat Building Shop, where some hulls are still made, and people can come to learn about the trade. In the Maritime Crafts Center, displays featuring the maritime history of New York, memorabilia and diagrams showing the construction of ships are arrayed around the two-story structure. And, of course, the fish market that once sold fresh - now mostly shipped in from better fishing areas. The whole area has a definite commercial flavor but is meant for residents and tourists alike. Expensive, but sometimes nice for a treat.
Log of RP goes here.
Vargr is wearing a chef's apron and he is out back in the of the fish market running a small grill and stall. He hawks his wears as some of the freshly caught fish in the area. He also has a case open with a few dollars in it and some change as he has an electric portable piano. The air is moist and the weather cool. The breeze is refreshing as pedestrians move from vendor to vendor. Most of the vendors are commercialized but not Vargr, he is sorta the renaissance vendor. He calls out "Extra, extra. Freshly caught fish from the nearby pier. Don't miss out as it is a catch of a lifetime." His voice is mostly monotone as the grill he has is a small one that is charcoal and wood based. He puts a large menu down and he sits down in his chair to play his piano. A haunting melody that seems to resonate with his feelings. Vargr is still looking gruff and rugged and fish and the sea is what one can be smelt when near him. The song he is playing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUhZ8_UJoMI)
It's a lovely afternoon. Break between very busy summer semesters, and Yare's out at the sea side docks to get some fresh seafoods. Maybe she can find shrimp. They won't be as good as the stuff back home, but when you grow up on gulf coast shrimp, you tend to develop a taste, as it were.
As she moves into the area, and hears the lovely music, she stops and meanders over, draw by the sound, openly for her violet eyes to widen at the sight of just who is playing that music. Her lips parts, and just blinks a few times.
Jun walks about the port, moving from fish monger to fish monger. He was out here shopping, hoping that one of the fresh catches would be better than what he usually found in the stores. Jun smelled the myriad of fish being offered, and ate any samples offered by a few of the sellers. Still, none seemed very good. Perhaps he was just picky, or maybe nostalgic, but no fish in America ever seemed nearly as good as those he had back home. Regardless, he eventually settled a nice cod that had just been caught that morning. The monger wasn't one of the ones that would shout out that his was the best, and was actually fairly priced. Jun respected that. Jun's attention was caught by a beautiful piano piece ringing through his ears. It was a wonderful song, and as he looked to find its source, he saw a familiar face. It took him some time to remember just who it was, but when he did Jun rushed over to talk. "Mr. Lucas, was it? I'm Jun, from the other day at the bar. I annoyed one of your friends over a game of pool? You never mentioned you play piano. And so well. How are you?"
Vargr looks glum as he finishes his piece and checks the grill. He puts his hand over it to measure the warmth. He scurries about taking an order. "Three striped bass. On it. One fried Squid." Vargr meticulously wraps the bass and then starts to sear the squid "That will be twenty five dollars." Vargr gets the money and then looks to Jun rushing over. "Ah yes, um. Of Course Jun. I am… fine. Getting by no matter what the world throws at me. Yes, You managed to get under Ken's skin. And I never mentioned I played piano because I tried to change for someone and they left me. So I have been more or less. Surviving."
Yare hangs back, just watching and listening to the two interact. Her eyes mist slightly, an odd mix of happiness and pain turning her gentle smile bittersweet. She averts her gaze, adjust the oversized purse on her shoulder, and turns to go. He's alive. He's mostly well. She should… no longer get involved. She's done.. too much damage. Her brows knit, and tears dance threateningly at her lower lashes.
Jun's throat tightens up a bit as his nerves start to get to him. He tries to make up for any faux pas that he may have made and replies, "Oh, oh, I am very sorry. Please excuse me, I did not want to bring up any bad memories, I was just very, ah, what is the word, amazed, by your playing and I, I am sorry once more." Jun's nose dances a bit as he smells the frying squid. "Say, how much does some squid cost? I was out shopping for some sea food, and yours has one of the best smells in the market."
"No worries, A man must accept his lot in life and the consequences of his actions and bear the burdens of his fellows on their actions." He finishes the sear and then gets a wooden pick and punctures the squid and hands it off. He looks to the man "Thank you for your bussiness." He continues to say in his near monotone. He looks back to Jun "Six dollars but for you a fiver will work. I marinate it in garlic, ginger and grounded green shiso. I think the mint and the garlic contrasts work well." He somewhat frowns at what Jun said at the last part "Save the flattery for the others, unless you actually mean it; then thank you." He starts to take out another squid "So how have you been? I believe the accepted non negotiable part of the social custom is for me to ask that."
Jun faintly smiles seeing that Lucas is possibly okay with things. It's hard to tell with his expressionless way of talking. He shakes his head, though, saying, "No, I cannot accept that discount," and hands Lucas the full six dollars. "And of course I mean it. Honesty is a virtue." In truth, Jun did not entirely mean it. Lucas's did not seem any worse than the rest, just not a whole lot better by Jun's standards. Politeness is a more important virtue than honesty. Jun then laughs at Lucas's last comment. "I have been as okay as ever, I suppose. I still go about the same work, I still have the same colleagues, and that is about it. Not much more really happens." Jun chooses to refrain from mentioning the whole son of god thing that pops up in his life every once in a while. After all, even this man is just a mortal and would think him mad.
Opting to sit over THERE, Yare settles into a seat, just out of ear shot, and sets her purse into her lap. It's the height of summer, and yet the crazy Mexican is knitting a fuzzy winter scarf.
Vargr nods "Very well six it is. Vargr takes the money. He then takes out a squid and places it over the grill. He drips the marinade with the ginger and other ingredients. He takes his spatula and flips it over. He then tosses it up and in air it flips over. "Colleagues eh, I never really pegged you the type to admit equals in many people. For one to be a colleague they must be in some way your equal. Potential or skill." Vargr starts to make his sear as he presses the squid down. "Aye, honesty be a virtue. But so is being pragmatic. Vargr looks over and then tosses the squid over and and being to re-marinate it. He then looks over and his face almost scowls for a moment as he notices a certain short Latino lady. He then takes a deep breath and sighs "Ever walk a path that you promised to do, yet end up regretting?"
Jun considers Lucas's remark carefully. Had he come off as a show-off the night before? He certainly hoped not. Inebriation can lead to some poor decisions though, so it was a possibility. "Well of course they are my equals," Jun clarifies, "They went through medical school just as I did, they put in effort just like I do. Of course some of them are less skilled in surgery than I am, but everyone has their strong points that make them just as important in the profession." Jun furrows his brow a bit as Lucas casts a harsh look out. He nearly turns his head to see who he is spying, but considers that he's probably better off not staring. "I understand what you mean. Sometimes I've very much felt that way, but I've kept on going through with what I committed myself to. I like to think it's made my parents proud." Jun pauses for a moment. "Not to pry, but is the person you mentioned before back there?"
Out of earshot, and not looking in that direction, Yare hunches over her work, eying the fabric she's creating. A few wiggles of her fingers, some yarn pulled from her purse, and she sets to work again, knitting on that scarf.
Vargr shrugs "I have learned there are very few equals out there. Its just the fact of life." Vargr finishes the sear on the other side and with metal tongs takes the squid off and impales it with the wooden spike. He hands it over "One fried squid made with care." He then notices a lack of customers so he went over back to the piano to play Beethoven's Fur Elise. "Medical school, schmedical school no offense. But college can easily be seen as 22.95 in overdue library fees. "One's neurocognitive functions are from birth set. And the complexity of the pathways on the molecular level unless one has extreme outside stimulus one is set at a genetic peak performance. Which is why I have a hard time finding colleagues. Friends, acquaintances and the like ok." While playing like Beethoven would he then responds to Jun "Jun that there is a Curandera, a medicine woman of the Aztec faith. So she is like a doctor, her name is Yaretzi and she and I have had a rocky relationship." He makes a hand gesture while still playing.
Still at her table, the sound of the piano reaches her, and had Yare looking up. Again, that look of wonder mixed with sadness and joy flickers across her features. Jun, she doesn't know, and so after a brief glance, her eyes return to Vargr, just in time to see him gesture in her direction. The sight of it makes her flinch. Eyes misting again, her chin turning her face away, Yare moves to cramp her knitting back into her bag.
Jun says, “I, I think you may have been a bit rude with the pointing, she seems upset. But, if she's still sitting there, she may want to see you. Business doesn't seem so busy at the moment, so maybe you should go and try to talk things over with her?”
Its a cool day with a refreshing breeze. The sun is out and people are moving on in and out of the vendors locations. Most places are commercialized with a few locals. Vargr is next to a grill talking to a man who is eating some fried squid. Vargr right at this moment is playing Beethovens' Fur Elise and is playing it like a virtuoso. Vargr is at a small booth with some fresh fish and is wearing his dock workers uniform. With the logo and some extra Chinese pictographs on them. But the logo is Tran Long's International shipping.
"Trust me, some things, some wounds take time to heal. Things just don't heal overnight. I wouldn't want to leave my booth anyhow for other customers. To me this is what relaxes me right now. Playing music, watching, talking and cooking. I might as well make a few dollars that way." He then shrugs "But I can relate sometimes our parents ask too much from us and give so little in return. Its a shame for family to be like that. But we all have our paths to walk."
At a table just out of earshot of Vargr and Jun (the man he's speaking to), Yare is battling tears while trying to cram a half finished winter scarf back into her back. Her head is dropped low, her shoulders drawn up. Her hair falls like a curtain to cover her face.
Jun nearly scolds the man that calls himself Lucas (Vargr) about how what's relaxing is not important, what's considerate is. But he bites his tongue in that regard. "Well I don't mean to say I have anything but the utmost respect for my parents, especially my mother, she is, she was wonderful. My father is certainly a great man in many regards, he just has always had high expectations is all."
A man strides down the sidewalk, powerfully built. He wears roughed up jeans, a tight-fitting black shirt, and enough confidence to hold up the sky. Wolf Enterprises is printed on his shirt in bright white, and a dragon is printed upon his belt buckle. He's wearing an unusually large watch and boots that appear to have…hydraulic jacks installed in the heel. When he sees Yare crying, he blinks and stops, "Hey, are you alright?"
The nice day was not the assessment for Kenneth Zaraki. His presence here was due to certain issues of his past… mainly due to a man he thought he had killed just before his Visitation. A man he would have preferred stayed dead. But this is the information Zhi-Zhi gave him, and even without the order he had to see for himself.
Tran Long. Not exactly a nemesis, yet. But not one of Ken's friends, to say the least.
He didn't think there would be much action in the day time, but he figured the best place to hide is in a crowd, which is where he was.
He is at the vendors, listening in with his acute senses while looking like any other customer or sight-seer. If Tran was here, Ken would know. He couldn't forget the face, nor the voice…
But it wasn't his he picked up: there were a few that he recognized. Two of them he would prefer to forget, but a third… a sniffling that came across. He may not have recognized the sniffles, but he had to look to where it came from. He turned to see a tough looking guy looking over… Yare?
At the voice, Yare gasps. She quickly tucks her chin down and is not at all sly about hiding how she brings her sleeve up to push at those tears. She blinks quickly several times before lifting her gaze up to …a man she's never met.
A swallow. A weak smile. Yare nods, though it's not the complete truth. She opens her mouth then closes it again, without any sound coming forth. This repeats twice before the Latina manages to get out a soft sort of, "Yeah. Fine. Thanks. 'scuse me."
Once more her gaze lowers, hands trying to get her things packed up, and her feet trying to get her away from the table, only for the motion to be just slightly too fast, and the chair still in the way.
Sigurd holds his hands up, "Whoa there, just making sure some thug didn't steal your purse or something. No need to scramble away." He grins, "You act like you're in New York or something, where everyone is out to get you." Then he pauses, looks around dramatically, and widens his eyes, "Whoa, when did I get here?" He smirks back at her, holding up a hand once more, "No worries, huh? Take care of yourself."
"Yare!" Ken rushes over as the young Latina gets up a bit too abruptly and starts rushing out. He does see her start to fumble as she rushes into a chair, and catches her in a swift motion before she falls. "Yare! Are you okay?"
He completely bypasses the man talking to her. He heard the conversation, so he didn't think ill of the man. At the same time, his reaction was without much concern for anyone else. And so, he helped her stand up straight, and saw her tear-stricken eyes. "Yare, speak to me. Tell me what's wrong."
"Sure." Vargr nods like he is just going through the motions. "I am sure your old man is a great man but I bet he is one of those types where you'd have to do a herculean feat to get his attention and a miracle to get his approval." Vargr changes to Motzarts' Sonata in C. "Look, all I am saying is that there is time to relax and there is time to prepare. Everything in moderation. Including moderation. I think the Greeks had it right there." Vargr gets another customer and with a fake smile "Hi, how are you?" The customer ordered fried squid. And Vargr nodded and took the money and made change. He then starts to prep the Squid. "Look, I have issues with my father, so don't take its personal. Most people are generally the same with different names and faces. The sky is always blue and everyone has an agenda. So perhaps I am just seeing things through jaded eyes."
Rescued from a nasty spill, Yare's hands reach out to catch herself against Ken's arms, her purse falling from her shoulder to impact the floor. All manner of things spill out: yarn, knitting needles, a makeup bag filled with odd scented herbs, an iPhone with a red white and green Mexican flag rubber case, and a dead hummingbird with a red string threaded through its now sightless eyes.
"Ken!?" Yare's voice rings out, much louder than she's anticipated. Almost immediately, her face turns to Vargr, brows pulled together, lips parted and pulled down at the corners. Again, her expression looks a bit pained, but with a tight bite of her lower lip, Yare turns back to Ken and nods.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she begins, then hastily adds more as she moves to step back from Ken, "he didn't do anything!"
"No, no worries. I know you're harmless…" Ken starts to say, but the guy just moves off. Whatever, but a shame he couldn't clarify his position. But that was not important now.
"Yare, what's going on?" Ken speaks to her in Spanish, thinking that this may comfort her a bit more. He knows that women, at least the one he's dealt with, would be hard pressed to admit to most what they were really going through.
"Speak to me, amiga."
Its a cool day with a refreshing breeze. The sun is out and people are moving on in and out of the vendors locations. Most places are commercialized with a few locals. Vargr is next to a grill talking to a man who is eating some fried squid and he just finished making one for another customer. Vargr right at this moment is playing Chopin's' Nocturno and is playing it like a virtuoso. Vargr is at a small booth with some fresh fish and is wearing his dock workers uniform under his chefs apron. With the logo and some extra Chinese pictographs on them. But the logo is Tran Long's International shipping.
Vargr just plays as he watches people throw quarters and the like into the bowl. He only gets up when they ask for food and makes no comment when people comment about the music. Even though he plays like a professional he makes no inkling of interest in the music.
Meanwhile, by the door, Ken and Yare stand. At least, until Yare drops to her knees at his feet, her hands reaching to collect her scattered belongings. As he speaks Spanish, so does she, voice all but hidden in her hair. "I just feel horrible. Like, it's all my fault, and I've been a terrible person. He's doing so much better now. At least, he sorta seems.. happy," she murmurs, glancing over a shoulder toward the piano playing, fish cooking Vargr. Her hands pause in collecting the dead hummingbird, fingers stroking the feathers back into place. "I don't know, Ken… I just… He was homeless. Living in a box… and… there wasn't anything…." The tears start to well up again, and Yare turns her face away again, trying not blink, hoping the tears won't fall…. Too late.
Beau happens to be having a small meeting with a few young men of various looks…each carrying a sort of 'gang emblem' on them. They are all nodding as they listen to the words of the young scruffy man who apparently is just having a mild and polite conversation. After a few moments the group disperses, leaving Beau by his lonesome to light up a cig.
"Always be prepared…" Ken reaches for one of the pockets on his jacket, and pulls out a handkerchief. He gently wipes off the tears from Yare's face. "Yare, you are very kind. Don't ever change that." Ken sighs and turns slightly to look at… Vargr.
"This is his choice, Yare. We do what we do, and there are always consequences for it…" Ken sighed. When did he get this philosophical? "Homeless… He looks like he's handling it." Ken then turns to Yare, handing her the hankerchief.
"Remember, this all started to help him. And maybe, in the long run, it did. Please don't take it too hard, we can't change the past. Not even the Gods can change the past. All we can do is move forward…"
Damn that Dr. Phil.
Vargr stops playing and starts to cook himself two fried squid. He marinates it in garlic, grounded green shiso and some ginger. He takes a great sniff. He then notices a triad member and he nods. He hands him a fish and smiles and nods but doesn't take any money. Just a paper was passed off. Vargr reads the note and then starts to destroy it. He looks to the squid and takes his spatula to toss it into the air and have it land. He sighs as he looks over to Yare and then notices Ken. He does his best to ignore it "Great I wonder how they both can bring me any lower. Fate you can all screw off a tag team match now?" A few more customers come to the booth as his fried squid seems to be selling quickly.
Yare just nods, taking the hanky to dry her eyes quickly, before collecting all of her things and handing the now damper bit of cloth back to its owner. "Thanks, Ken. I think… I think I'm just … gonna go home now. I… Yeah. Thanks," she says, not at all seeming able to hold a conversation. She's been alone too long.
There's a moment where it looks like she's going to look over her shoulder at Vargr, but the moment passes and she turns to head toward the street, head bowed.
"Here, I'll walk you." Ken moves with her. "I found what I came for anyway. Besides, I don't think that guy is wanting to see us, anyway." He sighs and moves along with her. "And I know it looks bad now, but he's going to survive. He's a robot, after all; unless the oil shortage gets real bad, he'll move on."
Removed Extraneous ooc comments. So when it is seen to have the setting done again, that means a new player joined in.