14886/A lovely winds-day

A lovely winds-day
Date of Scene:	09 May 2023
Location:	Robinson Park - Miagani Island
Synopsis:	Closing out old scene
Cast of Characters:	Harper Row, Kara Danvers

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Harper Row has posed:
To Harper Row, it is a particularly windy Wednesday. Having stepped out of her backyard, she's dared to leave the stolid urban haunts and venture into a Park. The hoodie she's wearing is only kept on by the presence of her hair, the breeze threatening to further and further back from her features. Overtop she's got her leather jacket, and due to the leggings and shorts, it's almost like she's trying to go for a look inspired by a Cake song.

She's not come for ultimate frisbee. In the center of the greenspace, not too far removed from a wooden area, she's assembled a small tech picnic. On the blanket there is no pic-a-nic basket, but there is a spec-of-tech. One of her Drones is there, propellers glistening while she applies some matte to reduce the shine of newly added components. Pegged into the ground nearby is a steel eyeloop and a string tied to it. That line is attached to a makeshift ~kite~ or parachute of sorts, and the wind is already tugging at it like a boisterous puppy, trying to fly it all on its own.

Harper, crouched like a gremlin, pulls her phone out and checks her messages again. The dimple her tooth is putting into that lower lip is getting severe. Her fingertips slide over the protective case like her digits could summon better reception or responses across the digital ether.

Kara Danvers has posed:
I want a girl with a mind like a diamonds.
I want a girl who knows what's best.
I want a girl with shoes that cut
    and
eyes that burn like cigarettes

Kara wasn't just in Gotham because people don't just come to Gotham. This is not a tourist trap. It's rainy 90% of the time and the other 10% is crime. That's right, dear listener, 90% rain and 10% crime. That's Gotham. It's a cake. Like Cake, but with far less hip swinging rythme.

So Kara is here for a purpose and that purpose is...

Well at this very second, it's dancing. Sliding across the pavement with a song playing in her earpods. Her hands chop out away from her chest each time her hip turns to brush the right and left leg along depending on which way she's facing.

It's not terribly far from where Harper is setting up her Tech-a-nic.

Which makes sense, as that's where Kara is headed. Waving over her head, wearing a nice white t-shirt over a short pleated skirt with long socks and high top sneakers. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail with a pair of red framed glasses sitting high on the bridge of her nose.

Also a big grin.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper's phone obscures part of her face, but with Kara entering her peripheral and then central vision, she switches from vertical to horizontal. Her lips part, and if she doesn't have that tune ping-ponging between her eardrums, the sight of Danvers invokes a sensation all the same. The phone makes a convenient stage to balance the blonde beauty, if Harper keeps it in her foreground positioning just right. And if she's quick enough, and ~bad~ enough, snap a pic or begin recording something that'll go in a special folder. "Frig...me..." she murmers under her breath and raises her free hand to return the wave. Her lip freed from a pinch of enamel, she grins wryly, a bit more widely than she'd normally do for sure.

Harper comes up out of her goblin-mode posture, straightening to attention with a bounce. "Hey!" Ms. Row pinches the corner of her phone and gives it a little flick of the wrist to send it spinning. Lord...catch it, for the love of...~nab~. A terse smile and the Gotham girl palms it and jams it back into her pocket, going to close the distance to Kara's oncoming form. Don't bounce, just walk normal. Suck it in, just a little. Cheeks and tummy. Totally normal. I woke up like this.

"Look what just blew into town. Sunshine? In ~My~ Gotham?!"

Kara Danvers has posed:
The wonderful thing about Kryptonians is they hear almost everything. The cries from Child Soldiers in some war torn country in Africa? She hears them. The cracking pop of an nuclear weapon being fired from a Communist country in Central Asia? She hears those too. The whispers from adorable blue haired Gotham tech wizards? You betcha.

Her cheeks brighten as she hops out of her little sliding dance move infront of Harper with her arms opening. "Are we hugging friends? I'm kind of a hugger." All resources about her do indicate that she is very big on hugging. She once hugged a reporter who she'd never met before.

All grins watching Ms. Row strut over with her belly and cheeks tucked in. "Well you look nice. Sorry it took me so long to get here.. You'd think for being faster than a speeding bullet, I'd be a little more punctual." She still has that very distinct, very unmistakable, Kryptonian Accent. But the blue of her eyes is brighter and the width of her smile is widthier.

Harper Row has posed:
"Hugging friends." Harper replies in a voice that's a little tight in the jaw, like she didn't want to smile wider than she is. Going in for the hug, there's more than a few thoughts going through her head:

Should she try and mimic that unique accent, or would that come off badly. Should she go in for a European double-cheek thing she saw on the series Uptown Umbrella, Petticoat Junction? Did she remember to eat a mint after that blueberry brainfreeze blizzard.

Too late to trouble her mind with more. Harper's in there and going in for a close embrace, her hoodie getting smeared back and off the back of her head, tenuous as it was. "You've got perfect timing." she says and wraps her arms around the back of Kara's waist for a clasp and squeeze. "Thanks. I like your look. I think they call it fetching. I'd call it hella cute." And cute as heck. Bump da-bump da-bump.

"But seriously, not late at all. I usually over estimate how much time I've got...never account for cross-town traffic or Gotham construction crews. Harper politely pulls back some after hugging, her eyes sliding side-long to regard Kara. "You like pets? If you could have a good girl or a good boy, what would you name them?"

Kara Danvers has posed:
"All friends are hugging friends except Raven, you can't hug Raven because she is anti-social and pretends not to want affection." Kara says with a smile that is far brighter than the words she's saying should accompany. It's as if nothing really troubles her, at least overtly.

Certainly things must? While she may be a super being, she's still just a girl. Probably worries that she's under dressed for a rainy day in Gotham. That a skirt was too suggestive, even though it was worn for comfort. All of these inner woes are dashed by Harper's indication that she is fetching. "Oh, is that from the hit american film Mean Girls staring Lindsey Lohan before she was addicted to many drugs and all of her credibility as an actress?"

Smile widens.

"You also look fetching. Heck darn cute."

Blue eyes turn to regard the arrangement of tech laid out, then back to Harper. "A pet? Hm.. Well it would depend on what kind of pet it was. Like a kitten? A little puppy? I would name a kitten 'Toe bean' because I think the little pads of their feet are adorable and I want to eat them like jelly beans."

Harper Row has posed:
Harper purses her lips as she takes all this in. It's easy, and it's all delivered in a way that sounds so forthright that it's downright charming. It has Harper giving little encouraging nods as she listens. She blinks rapidly and starts to open her mouth to give her opinion on Mean Girls, and is thankfully the day is saved as her attention is turned towards cute stuff and the pet question.

Harper gives a series of nods and takes a step back to gesture towards the blanket and the Drone, the dark paint almost finished drying. "It's not very huggable, but it'll be obedient." She turns her face away briefly, her face contorting with a little wince, like she'd taken a lick with a wet finger of some koolaid drink mix. Tooooo kyuuuute. She composes herself after rolling her shoulders back, can't be seen to be smiling too much like a goof when she turns back. "Widdle Toe beans." she echoes. "I can see the instagrams now. Heh."

Harper squats on her haunches and finishes a few touches to the insectile bit of tech and its fidget spinner array of blades to hoist it aloft. Harper come-hithers to Kara. "I'm gonna flip this switch, and after the click, the name you say, is the name it'll respond to. Huh...now I wish it had feet."

Kara Danvers has posed:
Throughout the awkward explanation of Mean Girls and the sharp decline of Lohanian regime, Kara is smiling. For all she knows that was all part of the entertainment. While she could very easily just look in the direction Lindsey lives and determine the reality of her situation, it is a gross waste of her abilities and... well it just doesn't occur to her.

Because there's far more important things to occupy her time and attention.

At this moment, that's Harper.

Walking with the techie over to the blanket she's laid out, she doesn't squat down... for decencies sake. Rather she smooths her skirt and settles onto her knees, then sits back upon her heels in a very proper, protective, manner where she can watch Harper flip the button and explain the process by which the drone will name itself.

"So I just say a name when it begins flying and it will accept this permanently? That is a great deal of responsibility. Almost every culture in the world regards a persons name as their single most defining characteristic. And multiple Occult references assert that the name of a practitioner is their source of power." Her lips press together.

"You are giving me a great deal of leverage, but I accept the responsibility willingly." She motions with both hands, intrigued by the drone. Staring at it with her head cocked to one side if she's taking it apart with her eyes. "I will name you... Bugsby."

Harper Row has posed:
The Gotham Girl has the advantage of shorts and stretchy leggings, so she could sprawl like a completely degen if she wanted to. Like the grass was her couch, the blanket her rug. That thoughtless action is hamstrung by how carefully Kara is with herself. It strikes Harper, again, that with so much do-as-you-please that Kara ~could~ do, there must be all manner of self-checks and safties inside. It has Harper starting to furrow her brows, to capture her lip ring and oogle the blonde Kryptonian.

Harper's smug grin dissolves some, even as she's nodding in the affirmative as questions are posed her way. The flippant demeanor she's trying to carry is slipping through her fingers as it appears Kara doesn't take anything lightly or for granted. It's practically sobering how serene she is with the Drone's very existence. Now it feels weightier, like a baptism. Harper is guilty of judging people, and reading books by covers like anyone else. She tilts her head to the side and her thumb puts more pressure on the secluded switch on the underside of the Drone. That little channel just big enough for a digit, a belly-button for Bugsby, which she flicks and pulls just before so the name will stick.

Bugsby ~brrrrrrrrrs~ and the gyros embedded do their thing until gravity becomes strong suggestion rather than a shackle. Harper gets into the same posture as Kara, cramming her knees beneath her. "Alive! A-live!" She cheers as the Drone floats like a balloon, LEDs going through a boot-up sequence like a bird preening and showing each feather off.

Kara Danvers has posed:
And Kara a momma bird watching her babies take flight for the first time.

She grins and leans forward towards the newly christened Bugsby, observes the way LED lights simulate the surge of life. One small hand reaches out to run along the smooth casing slots where the lights flicker through, "You can do it." She's aware that it is not a sentient being, of course. Still, she has a very strong fascination for the technology of Earth.

Some Kryptonians might find it archaeic and trite. And, it is to a certain extent, but because of that Kara is drawn to it. Eager to see how it works. "Did you know that there's no difference between science and magic to the unenlightened?" She asks with a sideways glance at Harper. Whites of her teeth visible behind the spread of light pink lips. Those blue eyes go back to watch Bugsby, as intrigued by it's first flight as she would be any beings.

"You can do it." She coos encouragingly, gently nudging upwards with a finger.

"Gravity is no longer your master." She purses her lips and tilts her head, "I believe it was Douglas Adams who wrote.. The Art of is the knack of flying is learning to throw yourself at the ground... and miss."

Harper Row has posed:
Harper grins toothily, one cheek practically dimpling like she was some Don Bluth animated sprite. With the wind playing about this afternoon, the stage is set for some hair-tossed, fabric-fluttered effects. It's brisk on her face and capable of pinking up her complexion some. She should be paying more attention to the visual ~posts~ that the drone is doing. The firmware going through that pre-flight checklist: 1) Don't kill all humans. 2) Do not venture past X ceiling height. 3) Do send out a signal to positioning software...keep barking and meowing electronically through the noosphere. 4) Your name is Bugsby.

Harper gives a quick nod. "Anything sufficiently advanced...appears...yeah, yeah I've heard that." She sure as heck has heard that. It's in a lot of great stories, and warnings, about where to put one's trust. Perspectives are in full effect, with the Kryptonian laying down some wisdom in the wrapper of smarty-pants terrestrial muggles. "Oh my god you've read some Douglas Adams?" Now she's definitely deserving of an animated series of expressions. She starts to snort-laugh, practically a ~Hyuck~ as she giggle-clucks dorkily.

Bugsby is sent up and aloft with the coaxing of a single finger. Granted, that finger could probably push through an inches thick bank vault like tissue paper. The Drone wafts up higher, challenged by the breeze, going vertical, adjusting and making like a UFO.

"Hey, that's the best Christening ever." Harper reaches over and squeezes Kara's shoulder.

Kara Danvers has posed:
It's all very simple, but interesting, to Kara. She watches the pre-flight, the way Harper looks between her and the software readings. Subtle turn of blue eyes to observe the creator as much as the creation. Frankenstein wasn't just about the Monster, after all. With a smile on her face, easy and soft. Encouraging. For both pilot and drone.

Until Bugsby has achieved vertical lift and her hand is free to set upon her thighs, one on each of them, and her head tilting back to watch him rise higher. As proud as if she'd built him herself. She takes her position of naming very seriously. Honored even.

"I did. You can learn a lot about a culture by their satire." Kara explains with a sheepish grin, "People often explain what is most important to them by what they make light of.. this was true on Krypton as well. Though I have to admit we didn't have quite as many wits as Earth does, I can still remember a particular play that detailed the fall of our society.."

It's the first time her smile faulters. Turning to look on Harper with a sadness in her eyes that runs deep, hidden beneath layers thicker than most bank vaults. "Usah-mah mah-a uh-wah ehgheh." She says this quietly, "Of all that we've lost, sanity, sanctity, and trust.. I miss the sky. For it is taken and we are beholden to darkness.. bathed in void.. rendered cold as the stars themselves. For the weight of our decisions are timeless and shall be felt for eons. Let us then, in these hours of our deepest regrets, remember together what Auburn is our sky as the suns red eye stares from behind horizons dawn. And together, Krypton shall be a place of memory, morales, and just cause."

"It sounds much prettier in Kryptonese."

Harper Row has posed:
In her current position upon the ground, and if anything it's lending a bit to the situation. Given the moment, how it slides from the philosophical, to something that sounds like it hits even closer to home for Kara. Harper bows her head, but keeps her attention on her friend. There's no red sun here, but as Kara tells it, Harper can almost imagine a different vista, strange with different hues, probably with all manner of different forces acting upon it. But mostly she's silent because she's heard a sliver of the doom that befell the planet and its advanced civilization.

Harper offers another squeeze, being gentle, and forgetting that she doesn't need to be that careful. It's a reflex, because of the emotional way she's allowed in to learn some stuff that really affects Kara. Her knees have her shuffling over to put an arm around her shoulder instead. Rooted to this closer spot, she swallows and frowns, unable to say in the right dialect any comforting words. "You have a way with words, whatever the language. That's real stuff, Kara." Harper tongue the inside of her cheek. "Wish I could have seen it. No wonder you're so strong with so many memories to carry, yeah?" she attempts a wan grin.

Above them, Bugsby, ignorant of anything beyond its scope of sensors, learns more of its own playpen, of how it stretches quite wide with dark ignorance being pushed back. As it turns in place, yammering over and over its name and position, it obedient collects and paints a picture of its limits, and directives to fill in the blanks codify into neat little data jars awaiting to be filled. A to-do list as it opens itself to the mixture of noise, natural and artificial, parsing what it recognizes and rolling loops of what it does not into more and more spinning plates.

Kara Danvers has posed:
"I was very young." Kara hasn't talked about krypton in a very long time to anyone who wasn't directly related to her. Her Mother. But Alura remembers it far more vividly, having seen it through the eyes of an adult. Whereas Kara... who by all rights should be much older than she currently is.. saw it through the eyes of a child. Everything is bigger, more dramatic, when seen through unexperienced eyes.

She smiles to Harper and reaches up to rest a hand upon the other woman's upper arm. A gentle squeeze, one that is necessarily soft, but still appreciative. The sentiment was understood. "I spent so many years frozen in cryo. They gave me image inducers to make certain my last and only memory to think about during all that time wasn't the destruction I was being sent away from.. but I still dreamt about it. I was sixteen and I'm twenty one now. I spent... so many years in cryo."

Her brow furrows, turning to look up at Bugsby. "I share so many similarities with our new friend... Learning the world, experiencing things for the first time. In a way, I envy it because it doesn't have so many years of experiences to draw from that tell it, fundamentally, how wrong everything around it is."

It's rare. Kara is always the brightest light in the room. Smiling even when doom is certain. Leading everyone out of the darkness... now she's.. well she's not upset. Not really. "Sorry. I don't speak of Krypton very often. It doesn't change anything, you know? It cannot bring it back or make it better... and nobody really has the kind of understanding of loss necessary to comfort me on the matter. Which isn't to say I feel my loss is somehow greater, I don't.. it's just different and difficult to share perspectively."

Harper Row has posed:
Harper makes some noises. They're the kind of throaty garbled thing when someone wants to shoo away the possibility of a problem being a thing. She gives her head a shake. "Jeez..." she offers, sputtering out an initial limp apology. "Hey, don't worry, that's a lot."

She takes in a deep steadying breath and offer nods next. "Yeah, that must be tough. It's not like having someone along for the ride while it happened. At least then it'd be like a shared thing, unspoken or not, someone gets you." She sighs. "You can't change anything but I hope it helps lessen the pressure some. I'm not sure how to even absorb what...Cryo...was like? It sounds like a blessing but also...that's a holding pattern that doesn't sound ideal either. Thank goodness you didn't have to get induced with the worst, hopefully the better or best. Wish you could have had a friend to ride out that chilly nap."

Bugsby ~doots~ as a frisbee is launched a field away, rotating as it scans parabolas and trajectories. It hears Kara's voice and remains on station without a mission beyond acting like a piece of dandelion fluff and being receptive.

Harper turns her head to place a chaste kiss upon Kara's temple. "You can tell me poetry and plays anytime. Kryptonian or not, I think it's cool."