2270/Demanding The Lost

Demanding The Lost
Date of Scene:	29 June 2020
Location:	Bryant Park
Synopsis:	A friendly meeting at a rally. No howling.
Cast of Characters:	Meggan Puceanu, Siobhan Smythe

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Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Bushwick's attack happened not so long ago. Days. Days passing for the shock to wear off and the anger and fear to build. Hours for grieving families to clutch hold of the unknown and demand answers. New York has a hole in the heart of Brooklyn, and while they recover quick from setbacks, a good number of people demand answers.

Bryant Park doesn't feature much to stop a crowd from forming except a legion of city employees armed with folding chairs in anticipation of an evening movie showing. They've set up probably a third of those in neat rows before the interruption begins. Bewildered expressions abound from those poor fellows with a 'Staff' t-shirt in yellow and blue.

The mass is pretty large, carrying signs and placards. They read with slogans of 'find our family' and 'mutants are humans too,' songs playing from a few speakers. In among them are kids and older people, though fewer of elders. Most are teens and early 20s, shouting loudly, calling for justice and fairness. In among them is a blonde British girl, though she hangs to the back with a handbill for the movie in the evening, sponsored by the library.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
For her part, she wasn't really in to either of these things. She was just in the wrong place at the right time perhaps? THe wrong time? Hard to tell. Either way, she walks along toward Bryant park, just exploring the city when she spots the crowd coming. She looks at the people setting up for a movie but then looks at the others, the protestors and blinks. She tilts her head a little as they approach and then she kinda backs up a bit. No need to get...things all excited.

Then she spots Meggan, she seems somewhat out of place and perhaps easier to talk to. She slips up closer to the girl and smiles a bit.

"'ey there." Her accent a thick Irish brogue, "You 'ave any idea what is goin' ahn 'ere?" She looks at teh group and then back to the girl, "A bit wahrried this might get angry before long."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
It's more of an impromptu gathering instead of something planned for weeks, and it shows. The masses dressed up don't favour any particular age bracket, colour scheme in clothes, or discernable function. A few of them obviously have signs of being different. No way to hide pale green skin, purple hair, scales or eyes that burn with a brimstone glow. But mostly these are just people, citizens of New York. They shout, calling out names and calling for answers. "Where did Mutant Town go?" demands one woman, her fist in the air. "Why haven't we seen anyone respond?"

"Three hundred hours!" shouts another man. "We got days to live if they don't act!"

They. Hard questions of who, when, how. People are afraid and it's not hard to understand why, not really. The fear and the hope that pushes them into the paved area in front of the library means they can be seen, gathered and shouting as pedestrians go by on their way. Curious onlookers or maybe someone out to eat a late lunch are all in sight. They can't forget, pretend it's not real.

Meggan doesn't carry a sign, she has that going for her. The crowd's opinions roll over her and she takes a moment to turn when someone shifts out of the way, and there Siobhan is. There isn't much hesitation in her ability to listen to Irish; her own reason will be dead plain the moment she opens her mouth and distinguishes her accent from the Lake District up against the Irish Sea, where Cumbria remembers ancient connections to the Gaels over the way. "They're upset that no one seems to be doing much about their friends and family gone missin', I'm afraid to say. They were up and stolen into the sky, some kind of spacecraft. All they hear is 'wait, be patient.' May be good reason, but they're afraid. Worried, as any might be."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A blink as she looks ahead at the people and then nods her head a little as she hears that. She is looking over the people for a moment and then back to Meggan, "I see. I wish dat I could give 'em answers dey want." She nods again, letting out a slow sigh and shaking her head. She frowns as she looks back to Meggan, "'ey!" She blinks, realizing what she heard from Meggan, "Where you from?" She smiles and tilts her head, "I didn't think ah'd roehn in ta anyone from near 'ome 'ere so soon." She smiles brightly.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Looking at the white-haired woman, Meggan gives a lifted smile. It's all sunshine with a helping of worry, melting the sunny nature on display. "Don't I too! But it wasn't very good when it happened. I was there when an attack happened in the capital, not here, and I tell you..." A frown briefly shows and she shakes her head, shadows flooding over her greyed out gaze, hazy as a winter sky. "Wasn't enough. We were all in the wrong spot, you see. So I owe it to them to try, you reckon?"

The patter is something she adapts to with ease, the singular lilt thickening up a bit. "Me, I'm from Britain. Grew up in the northwest, near the sea. Moved around a whole lot so I can't call one place home. I mean, we were on a boat there off Man for a bit. And yourself?"

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"I grew up on de west coast o' Ireland." She nods her head and smiles, "Near da cliffs." She nods and smiles again before she looks to the crowd before looking back at Meggan with a blink, "Ya were in the capital?" She asks and blinks a few times, "What were ya doin' dere? Seems rather unsafe either way but Ah can't imagine a good reason unless ya are some kind of politician or somethin'?" She asks and tilts her head before looking again at the people marching, "As for this whole thing. Real mess if ya ask me." She nods her head, "Not much anyone could do. Hopefully the right folks are comin' up with somethin' though."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"The Cliffs." It has an actual title, in a way, with Meggan. "The ones that cut away like a great seam above the sea. I've never had much chance to see them up close, not for long, but they look incredible. What could ever pull you away?" The blonde's bubbly enthusiasm is at odds with the people around them, shouting the names one by one now and standing up on chairs they've stolen from the seating arrangement for the movie. Chants fall and rise in a thrum, not quite bordering on violence. But here pain, loss, hope, and sorrow all do a jig together. None has the floor long, but they are there.

Meggan nods. "Aye, I was. I went to Washington for some research, as it happens. Class arranged for us to be down there and 'twas all very fun until things went pear-shaped." She nods at the people around her. "Came out and we were being attacked jus' like that. These great, horrible robots stomped up and came right out attacking. What was I t'do? Jus' stand by? It's exactly that, a real mess." Her frown settles back in. "You've not been affected by it, have ya?"

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
Frowning slightly at the question and then she shakes her haed, "Mostly personal stuff. Things ah wouldn't burdern a stranger wit' but suffice it to say, ah'm 'ere now." She smiles again and nods, "Just tryin' to make me way in a world that is going to pot." She laughs a little before she shakes her head, "As for this mess? Nah, ah haven't been effected like the people 'ere. Lucky for me to say it. It's bad. Rough really for what is happenin'." She then glances at the marchin' people, "Just folks tryin' to find something, anythin' they can do to fix a situation that I doubt anyone has a great answer for." She lets out a sigh through her nose and puts her hands in the pockets of her jacket, "Real shame."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The frown from Siobhan clams up Meggan, but she doesn't push the questions. "No burden at all, I promise. Just say you're escapin' the rain, and everyone here takes that with a smart nod. Especially this time o' year, they almost think it's pourin' back home." Her smile widens a bit at the memory of it, sharing in the laugh. "Better as far as I figure. Fewer tourists is good all 'round. We used to get scads of them tramping up and down the hills to the beach, and you'd get no peace 'tall. Pity, especially being so rural. But here, whole other world. Not a field in sight!"

A few girls hold up pictures of other friends, and they sing out a short refrain from Amazing Grace, such as it is. Not a song that Meggan really knows or answers to, and she looks over to her newfound companion. A grim bit of a nod. "True. Hard t'know what ta do in times like this. Stand by or fight for them? How? Real shame, as you said."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
The girl nods a little and then she shakes her haed, "Nah, it isn't like me ta lie about things. Just be honest and not want to talk about it." She then shrugs, "Even if the rains were sometimes pretty rough back that way." She laughs softly and looks then over at the crowds before she lets out a breath, "Ah just realized." She looks to Meggan with a grin, "Ah haven't introduced meself at all. Pretty rude." She smirks, "Ah'm Siobhan Smythe." She nods her head.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Nor I. Though sometimes they can't believe it's one way or the other. Expect me to say I'm leading a revolution or sommat, and that's just mad. Besides, it's not like it rains all day long. Maybe just the morning shower, bit of drizzle off the sea in the evening, and what's not to --"

Then the penny drops and she laughs, startled to a high, warm tone. "You're no more rude than I am. Forgetting my manners, what does that say 'bout me? Siobhan, a delight." A grin for it. She can manage Irish stylings effortlessly; there's just a little hint of an accent. "Meggan Puceanu." For the latter, of course, is a twist of Welsh and Irish mashed up together, somehow. It's distinct and fits a girl leading an online and in-person crusade against environmental despoilation and climate change. "But just Meggan's fine."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"Meggan, a fine name and a choice ah'd make if I were to call ya anythin'. I'm not in the habit of callin' people by their full name." She grins and nods, "Makes for a lot of long winded introductions past the first." She then shrugs and blinks, "Environmentalist, huh? Good work, Ah suppose. Support it where ah can but not really somethin' ah know enough about to speak on it. Ah'm a singer and a player of guitars. Not bad with a few other things but guitar is my favorite." She nods her head with a smile.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"I answer to jus' about anythin', truth told. Meg works for most, or you there, or her, the blonde one." Meg grins wider and then waves a little at someone waving at her. "I'm somethin' like that. Person who sees things aren't so good for everyone, especially if you don't live in the big city. London, New York, they act like little bubbles. And awful lot of rich people don't really care much abou' what their work does. I try to help 'em see." She blithely sails over that despite having a ticking count of six digit followers and then some. But there's a bigger smile still for music.

"Enough of me yammering on. That's incredible, playing and singing. Do you recommend any spots round here to listen or you do it all online? Guitar's fantastic, real warm sound." She edges towards the crowd's end, letting them mass together. Not getting caught in that shouting match.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A small laugh and she shakes her head, "Might do it online once I get meh first laptop but for now ah just try to find gigs. Ah've only been in town for about a month. Had an excitin' time but still tryin' to get on stage for more than a night." She nods her head and then she looks at her watch, "Well, that's the time and ah really gotta run." She waves to her, "I'll catch up with ya another time. Look ya up online and send ya a message. For now ah gotta get ready for one of those gigs I was just talkin' about." She then waves and starts away, "Good luck!" And she's heading out.