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October 1, 2003 |
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Beach - Vrokk...
Jurt appears first as a faintly shimmering outline, followed quickly by the rest of him. He is suddenly a few yards from her, feet sinking a little in the sand and wearing a white T-shirt half-tucked into faded blue jeans that are ripped at the knees. Both his jacket and boots are worn black leather and riveted in places with metal studs. Black belt and a nondescript buckle. Hanging from a lanyard at his side is a yard-long wooden baseball bat branded with the legend <Sawallville Slugger>.
Yosannah sits on the beach as per usual when she is in Vrokk. She slides her gaze to him though her head remains directed at the water, "If you're looking for the men's room, you're in the wrong place."
Jurt frowns a little, checking over his shoulder. "I knew I took that wrong turn at Albuquerque."
Yosannah smiles lightly, though he may not see it from where he stands. She rises and begins to brush the sand from her jeans. "What's up?"
Jurt answers, hooking his thumbs through belt loops. "My boredom meter. How 'bout an excursion?"
Yosannah crosses her arms over her chest and bites at her lower lip, considering, "Excursion, hu. Well, I don't see why not. Though I make no promises about being able to fix your..." She gestures with her hand and wiggles her fingers, "meter thingy."
Jurt glances down at his crotch after his gesture, shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't need a promise, baby - Anything short of a restraining order, I can work with." A thumb pointing at himself and wink as he holds out his other hand in invitation.
Yosannah raises a brow and mouths the word, 'baby'. Thinking better then to offer a retort, she nears him and slides her hand into his, "Be easy on me. I've never traveled ala-Jurt."
Jurt clucks his tongue. "Then you haven't really traveled. Isn't nobody faster." He thumbs his chin, growing a bit thoughtful. "Any requests, or should we just brave wherever my mind takes us?"
"Your excursion," she squeezes his hand lightly, "your choice. Though, you know what. Anywhere except that Wonderland bar. That's a little much."
Jurt says, "Wonderland is off, check. That leaves us, lets see, a prison, a few fortresses, a farm, and a whole lot of Chaos." Bit of a smirk. "Maybe we'll get lucky and get something normal."
Yosannah suddenly seems rather doubtful, but says only, "Right."
Jurt thinks for a minute, then seems to have something. With a grunt, he grips her hand and, and the world starts to fade around them...
New York City (Shadow Earth)...
...And then they're there, in about the span of a heartbeat. Very similar to trumping, with some subtle differences.
Yosannah falters in her step as they arrive in Manhattan. She reaches her free hand to her forehead and blinks as if clearing her eyes of a fog. A light moan escapes her lips and the hand, which clasps his, tightens in an effort to regain her balance.
Jurt supports her, no problem with that. He switches to English. "Aww, come on - that was smooth as a bikini model's inner thigh. Shit, have you ever tried Logrus? That's like being on the end of a /very/ long rubber band, and then being snapped at the English teacher across Shadow."
A deep inhale of breath and then a slow exhale as she nods, "It's not you. I'm fine." She slides her fingers from his as she studies their surroundings for the first time. "Just a little light headed... Oh, dear god. Did you mean to bring us here?"
They stand in an alleyway. Dark, wet and humid. The night sky little more then a sliver beyond the looming outline of buildings above them. In the distance, the perpetual sound of the city hums rhythmically.
Jurt glances at the alley, considering. "Well, not /right/ here, no ... but at the same time, this isn't really the place to pop in out of nowhere in the middle of Times Square, you know. Myself, I was thinking something along the lines of box seats at the stadium for the game du jour." He sniffs, trying to sound important. "I know a guy."
Yosannah peers down the alleyway which dumps out onto Forty-Second Street, "Well, considering it's about three in the morning, we're not going to be watching any games." She points at what appears to be the front facade of Grand Central Station and the large clock that hangs there.
Jurt looks at it with a frown and a curse of 'Serpent's Balls' under his breath. "Damn time differentials. They get me /every/ time."
Yosannah mutters and offers, seemingly in agreement, "What are ya gonna do."
He shrugs, waving a hand. "Well, it /is/ the city that never sleeps. There are a hundred and one other things to do ... " He looks a bit closer at her. "Unless the air or something is making you feel ill?"
"Ill? No. Listen, it's just that this is my home. My home, home. And it wouldn't be unusual that I'd be recognized. We can hang here, of course. But you gotta be..." She purses her lips and decides on a word: "Cool." She splays her fingers as she spreads her hands before him in an effort to demonstrate what she means by cool.
Jurt chokes, giving her a look. "As if that was a /problem/? I'm the coolest mutherfucker on the Chaosian side of the Ygg, man!"
Yosannah stares at him for a long moment. Doubtful? "Right." An agreeable nod, "Here I'm Allison. Allison Preston. Okay? And no talk about Chaosians and Ygg."
Jurt tries it out. "Allison? Seriously?" He makes a bit of a face. Mentions, "You know, people change their names in Earth all the time ... especially when they find better ones."
Yosannah retorts, "Let's not talk about names okay, Jurt." She practically spits out his name, making a face of her own.
Jurt chuckles, taking a step back. "Oh, shit, come on now." Grinning. "Jurt is an original. It's perfect." He punches a fist. "It's like a fist to the stomach. /Jurt/." He says it sharp, like a smack, chuckling some more and looking out the alley. "So come on, be a sport. Are we waiting here to get mugged or something?"
"Mugged? Well that would be foolish of somebody, wouldn�t it?" She inclines her head as a crooked grin escapes her lips, "Particularly with you at my side. I mean, who would dare?" With that, she spins on her heels and heads out toward Forty-Second Street and the Station, hands sliding into the pockets of her suede jacket.
Jurt steps along, shrugging. "Well, /I/ know that, and /you/ know that, but the would be muggers... Sure, the bat may deter them... err." Jurt pauses, a hand on his bat, glancing at it. "Hmm. This might look kinda funny, huh?" He says "I mean, not even a Yankee walks around with his bat in a lanyard."
Yosannah stops and turns back to regard him and the 'Slugger', "Uh. Yeah."
Jurt spares a moment to remove the belt and backpedal the short-distance back to the alley, looking around, checking for observers. Ten seconds later, he comes back out, belt and sluggerless. "Easy as beatin' up an Amberite."
Yosannah gestures at his waist where the items used to be, "What was that thing for anyway."
Jurt sets a casual, strolling pace down the sidewalk, keeping one eye on nearby pedestrians. "The bat? Uh, I should think that obvious."
Yosannah quickly starts after him, "You're a ball player?" Her hands are tucked back into her pockets. They begin to head west toward Fifth Avenue. Despite the hour, the streets are full of life though not as congested as one might expect during the afternoon or early evening.
Jurt hehs, just once. "Of sorts, yeah. I did a stint with the Giants a long time back ... you'll see an alias of mine under the record for farthest homerun at a few fields. Didn't pan out so well, though ... not a good match-up. I always had to, you know, hold back. Not be /too/ good. And man, one time ... " He shakes his head. "I hit a pitcher with a line drive ... that guy was in the hospital for a month, and never played again." There is the faintest of frowns to his lips. Little more visible in his eyes. "Ah well. It was fun for awhile."
Yosannah glances sidelong at him and his nostalgia once or twice. "Really." She is fairly impressed and intrigued, "Let me guess. Shoeless Joe was really you. And you really /didn't/ have anything to do with throwing the World Series." She nods at this as if she might half believe it if he claimed it were true.
Jurt chuckles a little. "Nah, not me ... wasn't that some shit, though? Ranks right up there with Pete Rose. That's a travesty of justice right there, let me tell you. Ban a poor bastard for some bets. Big deal!" He snorts, backhanding the air. "Slap the guy on the wrist maybe for being dumb enough to get caught, but ban him? That's one of the rawest deals in all of Shadow right there." He adds, "But, in answering your question, that's not why I carry the bat around, no."
"Oh." She waits for a long moment as they walk, expecting an explanation. Finally she intones, "Sooo?"
Jurt answers, "Protection, of course. Some guys carry a sword. Others a gun. I gotta bat."
"Of course. Silly me." As they reach the intersection of Fifth Avenue she reaches out a hand, fingers lingering on his arm, and points southward, "Look." In the distance, the Empire State building looms. Erect spire illuminated at the point, red, like a lighthouse beacon. "One of my favorite sights."
Jurt huhs, looking. "Damn, I haven't been up there in an age..." He mentions, tongue poking his cheek, "Did you know it isn't true that you could crush someone's head by dropping a penny from the top?"
Yosannah nods, seemingly in agreement. A pregnant pause and her gaze slides to him, "Yeah. Old wives tale. Pshh, there are no reported cases of that." She nudges his arm with her elbow, "You could take us up there, couldn't you?" She lowers her voice, almost a whisper, "Let's go."
"Pshh, no problem." Jurt licks his lips, looking around. He murmurs, "We'll skip the climb..." His left arm goes around her, while, after a few moments of concentration, his right hand waves in the air. The air flutters out in a wave from the both of them, subtle, and people who walk by then don't take a first look. Matter of fact, Jurt pulls her aside as someone tries to walk through her. "One step done ... next ... " He turns his intense green squint on the Empire's tall heights, staring.
She's obviously more comfortable with his no-holds-bar style of whisking her about as she allows herself to be pulled to him, seemingly quite at ease with his nearness and the arm that hangs about her waist. A hand slides to his chest and lingers there though she holds her breath in anticipation.