Players:
Summary: The ire of the Air Spirit is earned.
Date: May 14, 2009
Log Title: Ill Wind
Rating: R
NYC - Central Park
Central Park is a large public park in upper Manhattan, largest areas of green with people reading, having a picnic, or playing Frisbee. Walking paths can be found all around the park. In-between the large area's of grass, the park is shadier with many trees. A large road circles the park where joggers, bicyclists, and inline skaters are commonly found.
"It was around here," Keith Flinn, white-haired strange guy, murmurs to himself. He's just walking along a nice path this warm and sunny afternoon in Central Park. Dressed in his usual cargo-shorts and polos shirt combo, he's got sunglasses over his eyes and hands in his pockets. Coming to a stop by a fountain, he glances down into the water and the coins glittering from the bottom. "This is the fountan…now was it a left or a right…" he continues to mutter.
'I was strollin through the park one daaaaay in the merry merry month of maaaaaaay'
Tones whistled by another strange individual in the park who carries a bag of popcorn from the nearby zoo. The woman approaches the fountain looking for anything as though she didn't belong out in the day time. The gentleman muttering to himseld does grab her attention, but this is new york.
"Sir," she says, "Have you lost your marbles?"
A rather strange feeling becomes detectable to him, Keith tenses and his small smirk becomes a small frown. Looking up slowly, he looks towards the girl with the popcorn when she speaks. "No," he says simply, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out if she's the disturbance in the air.
The woman stands all of 5 feet away, puttingthe fellow within her 'sphere of influence'.
"Ah, well; that's fine. I'm not good at finding lost marbles." she says, self depricating, maybe, but true. She shoves another handful of popcorn in her mouth and munches.
The air indeed interesting, it's as though the normal movement has slowed and condensed; grown heavy as matter is want to do when it is chilled. Highly unnatural however.
Keith scowls more as he determines that this woman is indeed the source of the air's discontent. "Dollar store. You can buy a jar," he says, tone a lot less playful than it'd usually be. Glancing around to make sure there weren't too many people around and no 'capes', Keith begins to alter the air in the area, making it warmer and lighter. Speeding the process up, he waits for a reaction.
The conflict is intriguing to Blythe who has no control over this effect to begin with. Her draw is strong, however and even as Keith effects the air the air seems to be pulled toward the woman, compelled to condense around her. The interaction of the warmth, the cooling, and a transition produces a rather strong breeze. Blythe cocks her head to the side, "It looks strange when you do that." Her tone is matter of fact, "Neat though." To her, the air lightening around the man is obvious, and a foreign thing to happen so close to her. "Do it again…."
Another handful of popcorn is munched heartily.
Keith quirks an eyebrow. "So you're not a pushover like my little protege…" he trails off. Not one to be questioned in the realm of air, the spirit begins to pull even harder. Air is drawn away from the woman and dispersed at a rather high speed, Keith taking one hand out of his pocket. Even as he exerts his control over the air, a swirling wind begins to form at his palm.
"Wow, that looks really really neat!" says the woman, notably overenthusiastic. Even as the air pulls back to her; though it is continually funneled away from her. It becomes obvious after a time that the effect is persistant, and there seems to be no getting rid of it. Though limiting the air in the area around her would decrease the area ofeffect "I'm not a pushover, huh…? What's that supposed to mean?"
The woman watches the invisible flow of air around the man with hollow eyes, smiling plesantly, "You're a good, painter, sir."
Keith lifts his hand as the winds get faster at his palm. "Sorry, paint isn't my art medium unless we're talking edible bodypaints and a hot model from brazil and that only happened once on a cruise," he says, smirk coming back. The air spirit keeps up his funneling, wondering just how the woman will handle what he'll be throwing at her next.
Poor Blythe, she's just standing there doing nothing, according to her, but at least she can see what HE is doing intentionally. "Well you're entertaining me. You're painting with the air… I can see it's beautiful. There's a beautiful sweeping stroke over here." she says, gesturing to a place where the wind is whipping into a really remarkable swirl.
Keith rolls his eyes, the wind at his hand starting to spark and crackle. "Look. I really don't care what ya are…but the air doesn't like ya," he says simply. "And as you're not as interesting as my protege…" he trails off, the air at his hand suddenly erupting to a ball of electricity he's just barely holding together. "You can knock off whatever you're doing to screw with the air or I'll toast ya."
Blythe tilts her head, "I'm not 'doing' anything. I'm eating popcorn and watching you play with the air." the woman's formerly cheerly plesant tone drops to a dull toneless rumble, not of fear but of aggitation.
Keith shakes his head. "Wrong. You're condensing and cooling the air around you. It's not too fond of being forced into that," he says, wagging a finger.
"Yes, its a side effect, but I can't do anything about it thank you very much." The woman places her hands on her hips, crumpling the half eaten bag of pop corn and spilling some kernels. "For the moment I've not intentionally done anything; you would know if I had."
Keith quirks his eyebrow. "Well. I suggest you scurry along and find a way to stop it," he says, sounding both amused and annoyed.
"With no due respect, sir. If you suggest I fix it, I suggest you help me find a way to, I've only been trying for 12 years." The woman puts her foot up on a box for emphasis, only the box isnt actually there, visibly. It forms underfoot from the very air which contracts and shapes itself to the soapbox she sees in her minds eye. NOW she's done something.
Keith's eyebrows go right up at the air contruct, lightning in his hand dispelling. "Inhibitor collars. I'm sure you can get ahold of one. THey work on most metas and mutants," he remarks. Feeling a bit like being a bastard, he glances at the construct and tries to suddenly disperse the air and create a small vaccuum in the construct's place.
Blythe's foot falls through the nothing and trips her. She tumbles forward; but the air shifts and catches her before she faceplants, she's pushed back up to standing. Gaining strange looks from the people meandering by.
"Was that really nessecary." she huffs. She is clearly adept, though her skills are markedly different. "I never had the air tell me it didn't like me before…" she ponders before extending her popcorn back toward Keith, "Popcorn?
Keith laughs quietly. "Yes. Yes it was," he says, shrugging. He then smirks. "Maybe because you're not the one who's the elemental spirit of air," he says simply. "And it says it doesn't like you. Not in the least bit. And no thanks…don't touch popcorn most of the time."
Blythe folds her arms and grumbles, "Well air is much bigger than me; and it'll just have to deal." the woman turns her head upward, "You hear that; air, I'm pleanty nice to you; you're the one bugging me after all!" she shakes her fist melodramatically and then shrugs, dropping her hands to her side and looking back to Keith, "Elemental whozawassit?"
Keith rolls his eyes behind those sunglasses but still laughing a little bit. "Yeah…air was hear first," he points out. "And it's not nice to piss off elements of nature," the white-haired man adds. "Magic."
"'kay, so, dont elements of nature kinda create things… like people. If my existance annoys them, then I should exist, right?" Blythe inquires, waxing philosophical.
Keith shakes his head. "Don't try gettin' smart," he says. "But if existing is the problem, I can fix it," he says, heavy wind kicking up around his arm for a moment. "I don't know what Earth, Fire, and Water think of you…not my elements. But I'm pretty sure they won't like ya either."
Blythe'd roll her eyes if she had them. "Here, I know you said you didn't want this."
The woman sprays her remaining popcorn at Keiths, face. "But it's on me…" she says, starting to walk away.
The popcorn never reaches Keith, blown away before it hits him. He lets out a noise and pushes his sunglasses up. "Next time…next time…" he trails off, turning and heading in the oppisite direction. The air spirit smirks as he goes. "Not gonna be so nice next time."
Blythe makes her hand talk keiths words with him over her shoulder, in a mocking way. 'What a bloody dick', she thinks, 'heh 'bloody-dick'… unplesant; sometimes deserved…' its a good thing that Blythe doesn't always, say what she thinks.
The makes her way through a bit further away before peering down into her now empty bag of popcorn forlornly, "damn… what a waste." She mutters tossing the bag in a nearby trashcan, "I wont forget this."
