Jan 10 23:36:17 108 PA - Hypothermia and Snow Angels
From Chronicles
Jan 10 23:36:17 108 PA.
PLAZA PARK
It's a freezing night in the park, with snow being whipped through trees and into small piles. Never a safe place at night, the chill has driven most of the normal troublemakers away to shelter, though the sounds of scuffles and occasional bands of youths occasionally pierce through the muting veil of white. Not straying too far from the path leading into the area, Celaeno is wearing her heavy coat and boots, cheeks and nose bright red underneath a band of silver that covers her eyes - small gouts of smoke stream from her breath due purely to the cold. She's just climbing out of a snow angel - one of four or five within just a few meters of each other.
Late night in the winter really isn't so bad, considering Kentucky Appalachia in the Great Depression. Or the Eastern Front '42-43. Or the Western Front, '44-45. Those were some bad decades for winters. All that being said, Gabriel seems pretty happy, despite the cold and biting wind. Sure, he's taken some precautions by warming up the extremities, but otherwise... eh, he seems happy enough. Nothing to cover the senses. In fact, what the hell... he's whistling, though it's partially blown away. If anyone would know it these days, it would be Bing Crosby's version of, "I'll Be Home for Christmas." Apparently, he spots the younger woman, as his trudging through the snow angles slightly off path and toward her, and her line of snow angels.
Snow. Freezing. Cold. Leonard doesn't mind the first one so much, but the others are annoying. Wrapped in a warm coat with a heavy cloak over top, he's reasonably warm, and dry, at least. That doesn't mean he's delighted, and his scowl makes him look quite the opposite, in fact.
One hand scrapes across Celaeno's shoulder in an ineffectual attempt to shake free some of the frozen clumps that cling to the back of her coat as she admires the angel. A small sigh, the chattering of teeth, and her arms fold up. With her immediate attention focused on exiting the angel with as little disturbance as possible, the whistle goes unheeded for a few moments. With a hop, she's out, but the boot prints and powder that falls free ruins the crisp edges that she'd left. Another sigh, more chattering, and one hand lifts lazily to the band as she turns to scan the surroundings. Two dials are turned as she settles in on Gabriel's approach. "H-hallo," she manages before tucking her chin back in and away from the chill.
With the eye of a worried father's instincts, Gabriel picks up his pace to hurry to Celaeno's side - carefully avoiding disturbing her obviously carefully-crafted snow angels. Leonard's appearance is noted, but only briefly. In a lower, concerned voice, he asks, "Miss Celaeno, are you okay? You look cold. Sound cold. C'mon, let's go find somewhere warm. Maybe the coffee shop or something?" The older man arches an eyebrow as he looks her up and down as if looking for bullet wounds. "You need a warmer coat? I have one."
"If she's playing in the snow," Leonard can't miss seeing a snow angel or four, "isn't she /supposed/ to be cold?" He isn't really meaning to sound harsh or grumpy, but there's a definite bite that's not the cold. It doesn't seem directed or focused, though. "It seems I'm not the only one out in the snow tonight."
Celaeno's eyebrows furrow behind the optics, and as Gabriel rushes over with concern, she steps back and away (through the most recently crafted snow angel), waving a hand dismissively. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine," she says, shifting again to bring the two men both into focus, "like he says. Wouldn't be out if I d-didn't want to be cold. 's nice t' feel the freeze time t't'time." Her arms refold firmly as she huddles in her clothes. "Not afraid t' get-t-t jumped by a snow-dragon-necromancer?" she asks, the humour perhaps getting edged out by the stuttering and clenched teeth.
He takes a polite step back, not wanting to invade the space of someone who doesn't want it - unless she had absolutely needed it, which she doesn't. He smiles, absurdly happy in the cold. "Oh, I guess I've had my share of dragon necromancers, if you say that's it was. Not that I really know what the hell that means. Never seen a picture of a dragon that look like a man before. But necromancer?" Gabriel raises a hand in acknowledgment. "Polish fairy tails. A little darker that what the other kids got. Not exactly Rapunzel, you know? If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing out here, clearly freezing your ass off?" As he begins to fall silent, he quickly tacks on, "Besides making snow angels, of course."
Leonard drifts his way closer to the two, stopping well short of being any threat to the angels. "All said, it could've been much worse. Dragons aren't known to be just annoyances. Not that there aren't plenty of those about, also." A general grumble aloud.
With that, Gabriel finally turns to greet his growing friend (not in physical stature, but emotional stature, of course). "Leonard. What's your excuse? Shouldn't you be stepping through a portal to find somewhere with internal heating?" He offers the man a silly smile, then asks, "By the way, have you been giving thought to the little statement about new tricks and old dogs?"
Celaeno just huddles for a moment before her hand lifts to spin a dial heavily, and then lift off the visor. She blinks against the sudden darkness and chill of the air, "Ahh, hell," she mumbles before nodding her agreement to Leonard, "I don't know, he ripped those other four up pretty good. And plenty of others, from the looks of those bone-bags. A little more'n an 'annoyance,' if you ask me." She brushes her nose against her sleeve, "And me? I'm just enjoying the unpleasantness."
"Oh, a masochist, are we?" asks Gabriel with an arched brow. He's brief, for once. "Hey, anyone see the guy who shot me?"
"I have," Leonard's mood remains dark, although a hint of a smirk emerges as he answers both of Gabriel's questions, "and I have." His expression grows to a thin smile when he looks to Celaeno to ask one of his own, "Are you a sadist as well?"
"He shouldn't have gotten wrapped up in a net with a fucking dragon," Celaeno says, turning away from the two, her eyes still adjusting. "Could've laid down a lot more fire on the bastard if you hadn't. But that's all right, you made it out alive. No harm, no foul." She seems like she wants to say something else, but the shivering cuts it off.
A strange expression brushes across Gabriel's face. One that probably indicates that he doesn't fully understand the wording of what was just spoken. "It wasn't exactly as if I had a choice in the matter," is his response. Not being too direct at anything, as he's not sure what he's speaking against. He then asks once more, very politely. "You're.. quite sure that you want to be out here in the cold, Miss Celaeno?"
Leonard delays a reply and looks upward, away from the two. In the dark sky, there's little to see except for the falling snow. That is, until small, black shape finally emerges into view. With beat of wings and a flutter of feathers, Edgar arrives to roost upon Leonard's shoulder. An unspoken comment is exchanged with the corvid via a glance, and then Leonard's mood seems to improve.
"Been a while since I've been hypothermic," Celaeno says flatly, her head turning to peer at Gabriel. "But I'm just saying, if you can't help something like that, you've got no business going toe-to-toe with the fucking thing to begin with - you'll just get yourself killed." Her attention shifts to the roosting bird, and she too goes quiet for a moment as she considers it - though her mood doesn't rise as she looks it over.
For a time that must be numbering in the hundreds by now, as Gabriel spots the bird and the apparent conversation of some kind, he just shakes his head and whispers into the wind, "This is a very strange place." But he then addresses Celaeno's direction. "I shot what looked like a man, and plugged him good, right in the chest. No one had taken the time to explain to me exactly what the fuck it was that I was dealing with. Then I got him in the gut at point-blank. Beyond that, it was out of my hands." He then holds up an important finger. "We were all out in the open. No cover, no fast vehicles to get away on. The best course of survival in such a case is to confront the problem directly with as much force as you can bring. If it's a midget, you fight the midget. If it's a tank, you climb all over that fucking tank trying to find a way to stop it, or you die. If you're going to die anyway, there's nothing to lose." The man, a warrior through two decades of special operations, speaks with force, but not anger. Just truth of the matter.
"What would you suggest that he /should/ go toe-to-toe with?" A chuckle. There, Leonard must be in a better mood. "Most magical beings are not something one just butts their head against. Although, some of them are far less powerful than they /think/ they are." Following that vague allusion, Leonard looks between the two, beginning with Gabriel. "What would you suggest when confronting one with an ego larger than himself? A tank, possibly," he holds up a gloved hand, pinching thumb and forefinger close together, "but only a small one."
Celaeno spasms slightly as she turns away, moving into a squat while she continues to shake. She seems quite content to let the conversation continue without her for the moment, even if there was a bit of a challenge directed to her.
Gabriel tilts his head to the side ever-so-slightly as the young woman squats in the snow. To each his or her own, unless she genuinely becomes hypothermic. Looking to Leonard, he smiles and offers, "It only takes a small charge to snap a tank's track and stop it in the open. Sure, it might be able to traverse its turret, but otherwise, you can probably move around fast enough to just keep hitting it until it starts to burn. Also," he raises a finger again, "it only takes a tiny opening in a hatch to slip in a grenade. Poof." He explodes the fingers of his other hand to be illustrative of the point. "Still, apparently I need to be directed to a good book on the subject of dragons that look like men in expensive suits."
Leonard nods as he listens to Gabriel, taking the literal and attempting to translate into his metaphor. Maybe he was a little vague on that difference. Then again, the advice is still sound. "Dragons, and many others, can often appear as they wish to, Gabriel. Not everything is as it looks." A glance is made to Edgar, perhaps pointedly, before he finally looks to Celaeno with some concern. "You don't plan to get too hypothermic, do you? I was just considering whether to try and hire you."
Celaeno's shivering begins to die down somewhat, but as she rises to her feet it seems like the lull is due purely to a combination of the aforementioned hypothermia and force of will. "I'm all right," she says, looking between the two. "The shaking just makes it a bit hard to talk, is all." She clears her throat as she re-balances, "That one was just toying with everybody, anyways. The amount of energy that thing was throwing at me..." she shudders again, "If it'd wanted to, you'd need to have a people actually working together with a plan. Not that stupidity we had going on." She pauses as she turns to Leonard, "What'd the job."
It's late night in the city's Plaza Park, with a good two feet of snow on the ground, and a biting wind, not blowing flurries, but blowing cold. A crystal clear sky is almost entirely covered by clouds which are only vaguely illuminated by Kingsdale's night lighting. Celaeno, Leonard, and Gabriel are clustered together at the end of five snow-angels that would probably fit the woman's form. Gabriel comments to Celaeno, "I agree with that. No one takes the time to plan. Idiots just fucking run in and make things up as they go along. Good recipe to get your asses kicked - which is pretty much what I've seen since I got here." Leonard's movement away from the subject of combat clearly interests Gabriel. "Hiring? I'm looking for a good job, honest work if I can find it." He then shrugs slightly and clarifies, "Not mercenary work, though. Dad told me, 'Son, you do good deeds because it's the right thing to do, and you benefit from it in your everlasting soul. You don't let someone buy it.' Of course," he smirks, "he said it in Polish, so it makes more sense, and rolls more nicely off the tongue."
"It is..." Leonard pauses to find the desired description of the job. "... a good deed, justice, and something I intend to be planned and... creative, if possible. It involved more than just credits," he looks to Gabriel and Celaeno, in turn, once more, "but those can be there, also."
A soft hum of some soft, sad song can be heard as the short Deli owner slowly makes his way, cane and all, through the snow covered park. Apparently on one of his semi-regular walk through the park. He moves as if the snow isn't as much a bother, as it seems almost to part before him as he trudges.
Celaeno sighs, "Wonderful. I'm sure I'll feel real warm and fuzzy after this." Her head swinging slightly as she lurches a meter or so away, she slowly moves to one knee before bodily falling into a clumsy roll until she's laying on her back. One hand moves to pull her hair out from under her, the snow from the ground overwhelming the powder that'd accumulated from the sky. "Hold off on the details for a minute," she says, her eyes closing while she begins slowly making another angel.
Ah, Gabriel's friend, coming into the park. Or at least, possibly him. A bit too far off to be sure without hearing a voice. He leans over toward Leonard, and indicates Celaeno with a wiggle of his chin. "Ah... is this normal, or does she have malaria?"
Leonard can't help but chuckle at Celaeno's asking for a halt for the sake of creativity. "This is probably normal... for her." It's only a guess, as evidenced by his shrug. He takes the moment to turn towards the hum and parting of the white sea. Leonard can't be entirely certain of Rasputin's identity, either, though there are only so many humming individuals with canes that stand only that far above the snow.
Rasputin seems to be just fine, going for a walk in the snow. He breaks from the humming of a song to actually softly singing a song. The song is in Russian of course, his voice is a deep baritone and is almost at the correct pitch to knock a little snow off of the white covered trees. He stops kneels down and tastes the snow, yes, he scoops up a handful and tastes it. Of course he almost vanishes when he kneels down.
Celaeno's arms continue to flap slowly up and down, her eyes closed as she gives a little yawn. After all, the temperature in the snow's a good deal warmer in the frozen water than the freezing air, she must be practically roasting alive. A few moments pass, and she gives a little sigh. Then her feet begin furiously moving back and forth, scraping at the snow.
He looks. He stares. He lowers his eyelids and plants his forehead into a lowered hand loud enough for a quiet audible smack. Gabriel's been here for just over three months now, yet these things are still oh-so-very-strange. It's not like moving to a new country. It's like needing to go back to birth in order to be raised in a new reality. "Huhhhhh..." comes from his lips.
"What's wrong?" Leonard asks this of Gabriel, of course. "Everyone needs a little recreation now and then." A grin and then he shifts back to more somber topics. Somewhat. "If you'd care for more details on tasks, I'd be happy to provide them somewhere a little less public, and much warmer."
Rasputin's singing gets even louder. It would seem that Rasputin doesn't notice anyone else in the park, of course it is snowing and cold outside. Most have the sense to stay in during the cold, of course Rasputin doesn't have all that much sense most of the time. Though, as he moves around some more, he ponders where the soft talking might be coming from...
Celaeno sighs one final time before dragging herself up and out of the snow. The singing yields a thin pursing of lips, but as the rosiness of her face starts getting a little less raw, she gives a small yawn. "There's nothing wrong with a girl wanting to pretend to be an angel." With her shivering having completely stopped, she's either no longer cold, or has slipped entirely into hypothermia, or both. "You want somewhere quiet, it's your call, but I was enjoying the weather well enough." She seems happy to ignore any of the confusion she might have caused.
The older man doesn't move until he hears Celaeno's voice, at which point he splits his fingers enough to peer out. Yup, she's standing again. With a small shake of his head, Gabriel raises his head once more and allows his hand to drop to his waist, where it leans akimbo. He turns to nod at Leonard. "If the job is open, I'd like to hear about it, but if you'd like to find somewhere indoors, that's fine." It continues to be odd as to how little the cold affects him. Perhaps it's simply conditioning. Then, perhaps somewhat rudely, he points a finger at the short, oncoming fellow with a cane like Moses moving through the Red Sea. Except that it's snow. "Is that who I think it is? Rasputin? You know, the man who owns Yakov's?" Maybe the last is dropped out there in case somehow the longer-termed citizens haven't noticed the establishment.
Leonard is not so bothered by the cold, physically, but that's only due to a thermal bodysuit, coat, and cloak for good measure. "A warm room and a drink would be nice... and I believe so?" The last is offered as he looks to Rasputin again and a tentative wave to the shorter fellow follows.
Rasputin continues to sing loudly and then stops short all of a sudden as he notices the group of three people standing in the park, in the snow. He chuckles loudly and waves his cane over towards the small group. He then begins to make his way, now only humming to himself, over to the three snow goers.
Celaeno eyes the newly approaching dwarf, eyes shifting between the other two for a moment. "Nah, nah," she says to the other two, "I think you'll have to catch me another time for this. I'm always game for a job, but if it's something you want to keep private," she clicks. "Then it probably needs my whole attention, and how will I be able to do that if I'm thinking about the wonderful weather and how I should be in it?" She clicks again. "Mind the angels," she calls to Rasputin.
"Private or not, I don't think that our friend here is really a snowbird, despite his little birdie friend," Gabriel speaks to Celaeno, keeping an amused eye on Leonard and his avian. "But I'm quite interested. Particularly if it really is a good, honest job." He then momentarily turns his attention to the oncoming fellow, apparently no longer willing to wait to see if he's correct about the man's identity or not. "Privet holodnaya nochi!" It sounds like quite fluent Russian. Not perfect, but good. He explains briefly to his nearby companions, "Cold night, huh?"
"Not a problem." A nod accompanies Leonard's suggestion to Celaeno and Gabriel, "A mid-day meeting at my place, then? I should get my own ideas arranged and whatnot beforehand, anyhow." That and notify others to expect company. Gabriel also gets a smirk. "I've had to live in enough snow that I'm not quick to play in it." Now that Rasputin comes near, Leonard adds a friendly "Good evening" to the earlier wave.
Rasputin chuckles and nods to Gabriel as he comes within a respectable ear shot, "Da, da. Dhough, net as coldink as mother Russia. But goodink, da." He smiles a bit and says softly, "Good evenink to all of you. What is brinkink you all out on this fine cold winter day?"
"The biting cold and all the little angels on the breeze," Celaeno says with a spin and smile. "Angels that're demanding that I get the hell out of their territory. If I had my flask on me I'd leave you with a drink, but I'm afraid I'll have to leave it on credit." She gives a wave as she turns to walk deeper into the park, "See you lot," she calls over her shoulder. "Don't get mugged."
Gabriel chuckles quietly to himself as the always-unpredictable woman quickly disappears. "You know, people in this city don't always recognize the best social graces, Leonard." He smiles at his friend, then addresses Rasputin. "I was just headed home, my culinary friend. Heard a little shuffling as I passed, and well... I guess I was just a little snoopy. Found a young lady making snow angles. How about you? Need something to keep the fridge cool but skimping on the electricity?"
Leonard isn't terribly surprised with Celaeno's departure. When in doubt, predict the unpredictable, or something to that effect. "I was suffering the snow for a scenic route home," he explains. "It just so happened to become more scenic than I expected." He shrugs to Gabriel on social graces. "Let me help improve the average? I'm sorry, but I should be going. There's much to get arranged." Him excusing himself could have nothing to do with the fact that Celaeno's earlier shiver looks to have become contagious.
Rasputin grins and shakes his head as a few people leave and someone stays. He smiles and looks to Gabriel and grins, "Net, net. Justink always loved the smell of fresh snow." Rasputin looks to the others as they leave. "And the snow deadens the sound of everythink. It brinks a peaceful feel, da?"
The older man - perhaps in this one unique case not the *oldest* man - watches his other friend move off as well. With a shrug, he turns fully to Rasputin. "Yes, the snow is always peaceful. Muffles the sounds." Gabriel arches a single shoulder up and acknowledges the more violent part of his life. "The best places to set up ambushes are in thick jungles... and in snow. No one sees you, no one hears you. But I much preferred the happiness of letting the girls make snow angels, and snowmen.. well, whole snow-families, really, and snowball fights... sledding." The man's smile dampens a bit. "It was a better time, my friend. Semyei'noi' lyubvi" Loving family time.
Rasputin nods slowly and looks and looks at the snow angel and smiles, "Da, da. Many times da Warlords would attack in da snow storms, it wouldink often times causing problems." He shakes his head, "Da, howink have you been? Thinks goink well?"
Gabriel chuckles. "Well, Rasputin, a couple of days ago, I apparently took on a dragon single-handedly and mangled to survive the whole affair. I say 'apparently' because it looked like a guy in a nice suit, and it wasn't until afterward that others who were there told me what I'd done. Of course, even if I'd known, circumstances would pretty much have led to that anyway as the best course of action.." the man allows his voice to trail off, and winks. "Am I boring you with tales of combat against the dark forces of evil, as one might put it in a fairy tail?"
Rasputin shakes his head, "Net, net. Mink havink my own stories abouts tin soliders flyink around and doink damage to alls by breathink fire." He chuckles a bit, "Da? Dis net equal borink." He looks around, "Dhough, been longs time since I faced da drakon. Dhere was dhis combat? You mentionink it before, da?"
"Yes, the very same. Up by a what the others called, 'a polluted lake.' I would have called it a bowl of road tar surrounded by rotting corpses." Gabriel smirks rather morbidly. "I much prefer Virginia, in my time." With a wave of his hand, he takes in the entire city. "You've obviously been here longer than I. I've never actually experienced a Missouri winter, not for the whole season, anyway. You get away from the coast, and the weather always gets colder. Something about currents. This kind of weather normal?"
Rasputin nods slowly, "Da, da. As long as I've beink here, da. Snow, rain, heat." He chuckles a bit, "Da, dhough winters up on northern sea near mother Russia are dery cold, da?" He smiles a bit, "Dhough, mink be leavink soonink. Da? Havink to get back to mink deli, havink some research. Don't be stayink out in da cold too much, da?" He smiles a bit.
"By all means, please, go in and find some warmth. There aren't many of us who don't mind the cold, are there?" Gabriel smiles. "You have some good research to do at the deli, huh? I'll be sure to pass by again, soon, to find out what it is! I can't wait." He then arches an eyebrow up, and ask, "I'm sure that you don't need this, but I'll offer anyway - would you like me to walk you back to the deli?"
Rasputin chuckles and tugs his beard, "Net, net. Mink goodink." He opens his large overcoat to adjust it, he has done this to show that the little man is wearing a pistol on his hip. He chuckles a bit, "Da, Mink be goodink." He grins a bit, "Dis for when mink magic dis net workink." He chuckles and nods to you, "Havink a goodink day."
"Ah, you too. Spokoi'noi, nochi teplye." Gabriel offers a parting wish for safety and warmth. He then moves off toward Main Street, exiting the park himself. Perhaps a good time, too, because the wind had just begun to pick up enough to actually be blowing snow off of the drifts.
