4191/Cat's in the Park with a Silver Spoon

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Cat's in the Park with a Silver Spoon
Date of Scene: 20 November 2020
Location: Central Park
Synopsis: Tigra meets Strange in the park and sets a young soul to rest
Cast of Characters: Greer Grant, Stephen Strange




Greer Grant has posed:
    The night is quiet and deep, gleaming moon shining down upon an artifical forest in blazing silver and cool glory. The wind stirs, whispering in from the high winds above, delving down to tease among the branches before soaring aloft once more. It is a case, a game of wistful tag that goes well with a huntress' moves. In the melding between womand and feline, a synergy is often the name of the matter-- but every now and then, wakefulness, deep at night. Not enough to prowl the Mansion grounds-- the urge to stalk the forests, the urge to prowl.    
    
Which led the woman known as Greer from the cultivated grounds into the relative (remotely relative) wildness of Central Park. Civility to reasonable facsimile of wilderness, a haven of nature in the midst of an ocean of glass and steel and stone. And only defeating a pair of muggings en route!    
    
The wind swirls as Tigra ends a running, racing, leaping grace; paused in perch upon a high branch, blood thrumming joyously as she breathes deep. Salt. Sea wind. The scent of civilization, briefly overwhelmed by the eternal pulse of the ocean beyond.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    In a clearing before Tigra, as she halts on the branch she chose is a man, wearing a long red ragged cape (cloak), that is resting on the grass as the man is bent down at his knees and has a hand upon the ground, his eyes closed as his blackframed lips mumble away a few words. The man's heavily scared hand is fanned wide while his palm rests against the cold, near frigid grass. The wizard takes in a deep breath, lifting his chin up as he does so and from his palm slowly a neon green circle grows out from his hand and it grows and grows, like a light show projected only upon the grass until it's about twenty feet in diameter.

    "May the high northern winds of watoomb and the fires of the faltine come to meet in this singular place, and grant me a sight of the unseeable, and strength unbreakable." The wizard requests the air as he rises to his feet, and his eyes glow but suddenly it all vansihes. The winds, the smells, the man, the lights, it all stops as he turns to face towards Tigra, his eyes glowing white but that fades into his more human grey eyes where the weretiger should be, but there's no way he should be able to see here there...

    "Hello there."

Greer Grant has posed:
Tigra's slitted pupils widen, return to normal as she blinks in a momentary surprise. Momentary-- she flicks her tail in a swirl of good humour, twisting with a simple athleticism, twisting in somersault before she lands upon the earth. Stretching absently, she rises with an even stalk forward,purring mirth as she enters the light upon the clearing.    
    
"Sorry to bother you," she announces, smiling with a deft warmth. "The changing seasons always put me in the mood to run arond at strange hours and places. Well, times--" She stalks forward, curiosity as she steals quick breaths-- instinctive as she scents the air, so long a part of her she had forgotten it. And peering close-- nightvision glasses? Super-night sight? Never be too careful!    
    
"I thought I was one of the only night-owls who might be wandering the Park tonight," she admits, smiling. "Pleasure to meet you, mister....?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen watches Tigra jump through the air and he swallows hard as she approaches him so openly, with that way she moves and that tail. Stephen needs to pull his mouth closed out of respect and then shakes his head before starting to put one of his hands out to shake and greet the Tigress. "You're not an interruption at all, in fact, I could use a volunteer from the audience if you don't mind your ... fur standing on end." Stephen says with a smirks, "It's Doctor. Doctor Stephen Strange." The man says, looking down at his hand with nervousness crawling over his features as he doesn't really feel comfortable revealing his scars to a stranger and an unknown, but he's trying to be polite and if she wanted him dead, at this range, he likely couldn't stop those claws.

"There's a handful of us weird night owls around if you know where to look. Usually the middle of the park is pretty safe as far as being alone though. Most think it's too scary or haunted or some superstition." The wizard remarks before he takes his hand back and lowers it to his side and not so absent mindedly slides it behind his back, ashamed almost.

Greer Grant has posed:
    The tiger woman smiles with vibrant mirth, squeezing briefly before releasing the offered hand. "I try not to lurk and haunt the night too much," she admits, eye stwinkling with their vibrant gleam. "Though helping do my part to dispel the idea of the Park-- or the city, for that matter --as unsafe at night is its own pleasure." She breathes deeply again, relishing the night air as it passes to her lungs.    
    
"Mmm?" she offers, head tilting as she glances back to the wizard. "Well, seeing as audience of just One is myself in this case-- Definitely sure. I'm game!" She flexes her arms, letting the looseness of the run return to her limbs, flow and energy and a tingling, sharp delight.    
    
"So long as you aren't hiding any joy buzzers somewhere. Wrong kind of nightish tingle!"

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen lowers his eyebrows towards Greer and he smirks, "Not hiding any joy buzzers I swear." Stephen winks even before he lowers back down to one knee and putting his hand on the grass. "You might not have any magics, but if you could mimic me, that would be a great help." Stephen notes, motioning with his other hand towards the ground, inviting Greer to join him. "This will help, even a second willing soul will make things that much easier." Strange notes as he waits for the cat-woman to decide if she wants to help the bizarre sorcerer or not.

Greer Grant has posed:
Tigra's laughter is warm in the cool night air, smile brightening with good-natured cheer. "I was always somebody to try something new at least once," she muses, nodding in agreement. And quick to correct herself--! "Doctor," she adds, eyes tracing down to--    
    
    Was that shimmering? Gleaming? Something....    
    
"What was your practice?" she asks, half paying attention as she skirts around the edge of the emblems, tail swishing carefully as she moves. Something there, at the edge of the senses... "Or a doctor in the knowledge sense, like a doctor of philosophy, or chemistry, or something?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I was a neurosurgeon. The best in fact." Stephen says with a soft sigh as the memories flood back briefly and he wouldn't have had a problem trying to flirt with a woman like Tigra, but he's grown much more business oriented since becoming the Sorcerer Supreme. He waits for her to put her hand down next to his and then he asks, "What's your name beautiful?" The wizard asks before noting, "Stand up with me, and copy what I do, slowly and carefully. This needs to be perfect else we could unravel the fabric of reality or worse." Stephen says, his grey eyes shifting to be fully white and a soft glow begins to eminate from them.

Greer Grant has posed:
"Greer," Tigra replies softly, smiling in quiet mirth. Nowhere near beyond the ability to be touched by simple flattery-- recognizing it, yet still faintly purring in the pleasure of the words. Eyes down, focused on the--    
    
    "...it's glowing," she murmurs-- gaze not on the Sorceror Supreme's eyes, but on the earth itself, on the thrum of mystic lines answering the Supreme's call. And it *tingles*-- her fur quite subtly, literally, standing on end.    
    
The cat's head amulet at her throat gleams its own silent glow, as she raises her voice as if answering more fully that gentle query of seconds before.    
    
"Greer Grant Nelson. I am the chosen Tigra, of the Cat People."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "That's most fortunate for me then." Stephen responds with his eyes turning towards Tigra as he lifts both hands upwards to the sky and he titls his head up towards the night sky as well. Drowned out though the stars may be with the light polution of New York, the circle around the wizard and the felinus, allows a perfectly clear tube of magic to pierce the polution and they are the only two able to see the milky way above New York in hundreds of years.

    "Greer. You're name is as beautiful as you are. Your mother must have been a kind artist." The wizard says before he lowers his hands, not directly down, but outwards, fanning himself as if he was waiting for a great embrace. "Follow me." He repeats towards Tigra, expecting her to do as he asks, the spell still being built up and growing, when a wind kisses their ears. A name is spoken upon it. A simple name, "~Gail~" The voice whispers and a motion tugs upon Tigra's tail, a child trying to get her to move or notice them. Not hard, but frightened and hopeful at one. Follow.

Greer Grant has posed:
    "She was," are her only words, throat caught in the swirl of memories. Emotions, caught and held close to her breast-- she turns her eyes towards the Sorceror, mirroring the movement of his hands after half-a-heartbeat. She steps across the manicured grass of the Park, the tug at her tail teasing, gentle, drawing her gaze briefly, a smile for the child before she turns back to Strange.    
    
"She enjoyed painting, singing, many things. Passed many years ago, but her memory lives on." She shivers again, a quiet rush-- exhiliration as though the wind from the ocean carried with it some ephemeral energy, wild and electric and free! "....who is Gail?" she asks, voice a murmur of quiet. Not Houdini things, here, or something to expect out of Las Vegas. No doubt anymore.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I know not." Stephen says with a soft nod towards Greer, watching her tail go taught for a brief moment and smirking again, "Maybe the child who's out after dark in a park, tugging on a weretiger's tail might be worth giving more attention than a smile miss Greer." Stephen says like he was helping to drop a hint to solve some simple puzzle."

    Stephen's hands slowly and painfully close into a fist, the whites of his knuckles visible quickly as the damaged tendons stretch more than they ought to any more. He grimaces his pain and slowly turns his attention to Greer and waits for her to look at the now glowing child near her that tugs her tail again and then runs off.

Greer Grant has posed:
Greer needs no further urging-- swift as a dart, she twists, quiet and silence and the brush of grasses harkening to her passing. Instinct long near the surface, come alive in a way never felt before. Even with each move to the child, each step farther from the circle and closer to Gail, does little to fade the thrum that flows through her veins like a circuit, a heartbeat. A rhythm she cannot begin to explain... nor want to, as she runs after the child, eyes gleaming with moonlight's reflection.    
    
Energy, silver fire-- moonlight as she moves after, leaps after-- not as a monster might after fearful prey, but as part of game and play-- a dance. Exhulting in rush and feel and chase! Not to catch, but to follow close, near-- guardian spirit, afire with the chase.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen drops to his knee, one hand on the ground, keeping him up as the child moves away and taking Greer's attention with it.

    The child however, moves through the brush and trees and bushes and undergrowth without disturbing a thing, a faint light streak behind it is it's only hint that it had been in that previous spot. Not hard for a skilled hunter and tracker such as Greer to follow, but, she can't help but maybe get the idea that the wizard's magic might have enhanced her in some way. She can follow the ghostly child until it stops at the edge of a pond, the first hints of a frost lining the waters edge as the young girl bends over to rest on her feet and holds her knees to her chest and she reaches out to the water with a stick, trying to touch the water and yet there's no disturbance. "Will you help me?"

Greer Grant has posed:
    The run and the race all comes to sudden stillness, calm-- the breathless intensity before a coming storm. Greer moves close to the child, the awrmth of her body, thefire of heart-- living comfort, as she smiles, nodding as she turns her gaze to the pool before her. So quiet, so still.    
    
"It's what we do," she answers, moving her palm to hover over the water's surface, a breath-- scent, stolen from the chilly grip of the air. Every sense, willing to extend, eager to expand-- racing breath stills as she breathes once, holding, testing, listening    
    
    Heartbeat. Breath. Listen.    
    
"...tell me where, Gail," she whispers, eyes gleaming.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "Here." She says, a piece of twig that isn't real, as ghastly as she is, reaches into the water and she stirs it in a small circle though the water is not disturbed. The girl reaches down further into the waters where the stick would be pressing into the muck below and she tries to stir there too. "Here..." She says, a hint of fear clutching at her throat before she swallows hard and turns to Tigra, "FIND ME!" She roars and lunches at the furred woman with a snarl, and a rage at being deceased or any number of things. The girl goes through Tigra and on the other side she stops and frowns. "Please... find me." She starts to sound like a child on the verge of tears instead of some haunting demon as she was moments ago.

Greer Grant has posed:
    One part wants to recoil in horror; the other, to snarl back in instinctive fury. But so much the greatest part-- the throat-tightening sorrow at someone so young, so lost for so long. Greer rises with a nod, and the Tigra turns to the still waters, shallow depths so silent and calm, so aloof-- holding its watery secret for a few desperate moments longer, languid and reluctantly petulant. She steps forward into the waters, chill to the touch, testing the depth. Fur glistens, darkens as the waters enswirl, to ankle and to knee, swiftly deepening. Swift in part-- up to the knee and just beyond, little more. Enough to mix with fallen leaves and stirred silt, to hide beneath dark muck.    
    
From stalk to patience-- Tigra sinks to her knees as she reaches beneath the surface of the pool, fingers stirring at the dark mud-soil below. tail above the waters, fire blazing in the moonlight reflection from vibrant eyes. Hunting, searching, the scraps of moonlight like a blazing torch beneath her piercing gaze....

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Her hands brush over rocks and mud and leaves when ... there's a jolt of horrible electricity at her finger when she touches a particularly round rock and the girl shrieks again in pain and sorrow. "SAVE ME!" She yelps as Tigra touches the round rock. The girl steps to the water but steps on it, seems she's been trapped from reaching her resting place all this time.

Greer Grant has posed:
    The grief tightens her throat mercilessly, but Tigra breathes deep-- quiet, long, bending and following the smooth 'stone', the sharper bits. Fragments. Pieces. Twigs. Other things... She exhales with quiet care, and with firm purpose tugs up. Perhaps the only part left intact for now, but she rises from the water, rising with the remnants clasped firmly in hand.    
    
Clasping the object in her arms, she moves from water to shore, wet glistening from arm and leg in sluicing streams. She kneels down on the shore, setting the muck-encrusted object down before her on the earth. With the care of a mother, a coroner, she brushes the twisted reeds from the water-logged parts, smoothes away the slick grimes clinging stubbornly to old skin and bone white.    
    
"Forgive me being so late," she asks softly. "For not being here sooner."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    In Tigra's hands the whole body begins to decay beyond fast, she disolves into nothingness until a simple skull remains, when the snap of a twig in the brush as Stephen slowly walks his way into the clearing of the lake and frowns as he steps closer towards Greer. "Let me." He says, and steps with a hand on the small girl's shoulder. "You can rest now." He whispers with a pat before he reaches out towards Greer and aims to take the child's skull from the poor wet woman. "She'll be okay. I promise." He says softly.

Greer Grant has posed:
Tigra's grasp lingers on the bone, finally releasing the skull with a last brush of fingers to bony cheek. Exhale, quiet purpose-- letting go with a last, sad regret. "Rest well," she asks quietly, drawing her arms up to herself. Soft mourning-- rising to her feet again with quiet purpose, casting her gaze over to the child. Smiling sadly, but nodding. "I'll make sure the proper authorities know to come find.... anything else. To make sure everything that can come together, is. I promise."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I don't think there's anyone to call." Stephen says as he kneels down to his knees in the edge of the water and with a hand holding the skull skywards, it slowly begins to catch fire, blue flickering flames lick off Stephen's wrist and up. The girl slowly starts to fade away with a moment to pause and run towards Greer and hugs the dripping woman's legs with a whimper. "Good bye pretty tiger." She says with a gasp before she just goes.

    The skull falls away from Stephen's hand with a single piece of metal left in his upheld palm. He closes his hand and turns around to TIgra, splashing the water as he struggles back up to his feet. "I think you should have this." He whispers, putting a spent and bent bullet into the woman's hands.

Greer Grant has posed:
"The police could at least..." Tigra begins, trailing off with a last, long breath. She closes her fingers around the bullet, eyes closing with quiet regret. She chuffs, exhaling against the wind. "Thank you," she adds, a quiet blush tinging her features. "Whatever happened here was probably a very long time ago. Or months ago. Years, perhaps." She rumbles softly, shaking suddenly-- distinctly aware of wet fur as she smiles in sharp rue. "Fur coat or not," she replies, "This is definitely not the time of year to be wading around in still lakes. I think I should at least offer dinner when we get the chance." She smirks quietly, eyes a vibrant gleam. "Fish, lamb, chicken, or something with too many syllables for one tongue to pronouce?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I believe it was in the late 1800's, I don't know how she didn't decay." Stephen says, noting at the nearly spherical shape of the bullet. Then looking down at Tigra's wet legs, Stephen decides it might be fun to play the chivalrous man and he bends slightly to scoop Tigra up in his arms, if she'll let him and he carries her out of the water. The sound of the much squelching beneath his boots as he takes her to dry land and his own arms and legs and now his chest wet.

    Stephen sets her down on the dry land and smiles to the younger heroine and nods. "I'm down for dinner now if you're hungry." Stephen smiles coyly.

Greer Grant has posed:
    Tigra smiles with quiet mirth-- dashing, chivalrous hero! And very carefully tries not to shift too much, both to avoid excess dripping-- and to wriggle out of arms! "A rain check," she asks, purring quietly. "Definitely for another night. It is late, after all... Or early?" She moves over, pressing a gentle kiss on the cheek, just before the silver of carefully tended sideburns. "I promise not to order something silly like lobster," she adds, eyes dancing. "No promises agaisnt tuna though." A pause-- a fierce sudden, hug as she nods!    
    
"Thank you for the opportunity to help, doctor," she murmurs, adding another, careful squeze. Releasing, she eases back with a smile, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "It was, in my experience, utterly unique."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I'm not going to invite a woman to dinner and then limit what she's allowed to order miss Greer." Stephen says as he lowers his hands to the hem of his tunic and wrings out the water onto the tops of his boots and smirks as he does so, looking up as she pecks his cheek and then hugs him twice. With his arms pinned he can barely lift a hand and twist it to pat at the fuzzy side of her waist and he's ... yeah he's blushing deeply now. "Hang around with me more miss Greer, and life for you will become vastly more unique, are you up to the challenge?" The wizard asks with that fire and glint in his silvery eyes.

Greer Grant has posed:
Greer draws back with a daring sparkle in her eyes, a gleam barely touched by the teasing wink. "I foresee a great many stories exchanged come future encounters," she promises, laughing. A last hug-- swift and firm! "And thank you for a positively terrifying time," she adds, smiling ruefully. She drops her hands to his, squeezing with care. Releasing gently, she ducks her head, rumbling with a soft regret    
    
    And a quick. sudden spin. Off to the Mansion, and most important of all-- the SHOWERS.