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Painting the Town (IC)


Dariusprime

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Thursday, 19 Nov 2009, 10 am

Clouds rolled overhead, painting puffs of shadow over the cool morning. The accompanying breeze rustled the last few dry leaves clinging to the sleeping trees. Gulls screeched in the distance as a giant made her way through Riverside Park. Mona Teymourian, better known as Fulcrum, strolled along at no particular pace. A patch of gold glittered under a long coat and apron, a rectangular box and easel tucked under one arm. Running alongside her came a gray cat, an one-eyed and scruffy specimen.

Every once in a while, the giant would stop and glance up at the Sentry Statue. She wasn't exactly ignoring anyone either, nodding and smiling to the people who passed. Most simply returned the greeting and continued on, looking back at her as she did to the statue. Finally selecting a spot, Fulcrum sat down in the grass off a walking path. The southerly position gave her a clear view of the statue's back and left profile, which seemed to be her focus. Methodically, she sat up her easel and prepared her pigments. The cat flopped down in the grass.

"Okay, Archimedes. I'll be here a while, so get comfortable," she mumbled while sketching, "Beautiful morning, isn't it?"

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  • 3 weeks later...

Normally, he'd have done his cardio workout either by rooftop and swing line or in the Underground's exercise room, but he had overheard Lynn talking about the "rush" that came with "pedaling your ass off through Riverside Park" and he decided to give it a shot. In the wake of the invasion, anything he could do that reminded him of normality was a welcome distraction to the images hellburnt into his mind's eye.

Odd, then, that an eight foot woman sitting in the grass with an easel and canvas struck him as a regular sight. Wait, I've seen her before... at the mansion. Squeezing the brakes on his road bike, he pulled to a stop on the path not too far from where she was, looking up at the statue of Centurion. They hadn't exactly spoken, what with the "fight 'til our dieing breaths" mentality that had seen the heroes through to the end, but he recognized her.

"Umm, hey," he said in a hushed, almost timid voice. "You're Fulcrum, right?" he asked as he dismounted his bicycle, his breath coming out as vapor in the morning chill. "You probably don't recognize me, but," he thought for a moment, not wanting to take up her leisure time but wanting to introduce himself and thank her for standing next to him in defense of the city... no, not just the city. The whole damn world.

"I'm Kristian. I saw you there," he let a bit of his Razorwing persona slip out in his voice as he extended his hand to Fulcrum, knowing she would understand. Maybe not who the teenager was, exactly, but that he was there, and that they fought and bled together.

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Getting just the right color blend for the statue's surface had been tricky. Several tubes laid in a row next to her as she mixed on the palette. She started at the voice, turned to the young man and in the process dropped her brush. Palette laid at her feet, Mona shifted up to one knee and looked at him with curiosity. Considering the grin creeping across her face, his judgment was spot on the money.

She shook his hand like he was an old friend, "Yes, we were, weren't we?" she spoke quietly as she nodded. The shake was a good, firm one, but not anything like the bone-crushing force she had demonstrated that day. "I'm Mona. I can't place you, but it's still a pleasure. Not many people talk about that day."

She stole a glance over him. Yes, she did admire his physique and poise, but mainly she focused on his eyes, like she was searching them for something. Her eyes had a piercing quality to them, but maybe that was just a side effect of having one brown and one blue eye. Whatever she saw reflected, she must have liked.

Cocking her head to the side, "You were one of the front liners?" she added slyly after glancing around. She obviously didn't know, but let her curiosity run wild.

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"She shook his hand like he was an old friend, "Yes, we were, weren't we?" she spoke quietly as she nodded. The shake was a good, firm one, but not anything like the bone-crushing force she had demonstrated that day. "I'm Mona. I can't place you, but it's still a pleasure. Not many people talk about that day." Cocking her head to the side, "You were one of the front liners?" she added slyly after glancing around.

Damn, lady, that's a good grip! he thought to himself as she let go of his hand. He smiled down (or eye-level O_o) at Mona when she posed her question. "Well, sort of. I was in the thick, but I was just a tactical asset. I did my part," he looked up solemnly at the silhouette of Earth's Greatest Hero.

A mangy beast of a cat rolled/pounced over a stretch of grass to rub the corner of it's one good eye on the leg of Kristian's sweatpants before playfully rolling/pouncing away.

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She nodded, speaking softly, "Thank you," as she too looked up at the statue.

After a long sigh, she stood up from eye level :mrgreen: and stretched. Her full height put Kristian's eye level in the middle of her chest, but she didn't seem to mind or care. Shifting to a more upbeat tone, "I take that back. People do talk about that day. How strange it all was, the existence of demons, religious and cosmological implications of the invasion, heavy topics like that. Can't say I blame them, but I'd rather deal with the practical aspects of life, you know? Demon, alien, cyborgs-from-the-future, its a wonder anyone is surprised at what happens in this city. Life is too interesting to worry about what new peril will pop up tomorrow."

After an energetic meow, Archimedes was scooped up in one arm, "This is my handler, Archimedes. Best one-eyed, mutt watch cat you'll ever encounter." She looked off into the distance a moment, her face more solemn. Archimedes meowed again and she scratched his ears.

"I appreciate you sincerity, Kristian. Not only because of what happened to us that day but just in general. I've gotten a lot of flack since I adopted my new costume, and any positive feedback is welcome." She smiled.

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