[Gina McClaren] *No rest for the wicked. Gina’s slipping through the night crowd with the ease only someone a foot shorter than everyone else can manage. The moon hung pregnant over head, too full to risk a night downstairs from the already irritable, and just as pregnant fullmoon Uktena. Long hair unbound, scarlet coat closed tight around her curves, she’s headed.. well. She’s not sure where she’s headed, But she knows its not home to bronzeville and snarly hormonal doom. She sighs and adjusts her cap, waiting on the corner for the light.*
[Mary] It is the season for parties, for fun, for merriment, for groups of people to gather and get really drunk, and dance. The Christmas parties are winding down, though everyone eagerly looks forward to Thursday. There are crowds looking to stock up on booze, on little tiara’s that say 2010, noise makers, and fireworks – and year end hostess gifts for the brave few that will host the parties at their own house.
The press of people is not so odd, then, though one person in the press certainly is odd. She has exited one of the many stores, but doesn’t hold anything in her hands, but for her shoes – strappy little numbers, dangling from her fingertips – her feet are bare. Her dress is long, white, and satin – it’s beautiful, if a touch old fashioned, with long sleeves and form fitting length that clings to her torso like a second skin. The fullness of the skirt is gathered in her other hand, held up to try and save the hem from the slush and snow – and failing.
She’s not doing anything outstanding, not really. She’s simply hailing a cab… or trying too.
[Gina McClaren] *Gina crosses the street, and dips when she should have weaved, nearly colliding with the beautiful woman clearly just coming from a party, shoes in hand. A sharp jingle of charms as the pikey is brought up short.*
Och Fook! Saerry darlin. ye aulrecht?
*She takes a step back, feet falling in the ice and slush. The girl was barefoot and tryng to hail a cab. Gina’d been in this situation more times than she’d like to admit. She laughs and singsongs.*
Och,ye must be freezin. Strap break loves? Here…Ye’ve tae gie a bit aggressive wi em. Cabbie’s are prats. Watch.
*And with that she steps just off the curb and makes to hail a cab, hailing and waving.*
[Mary] Mary’s crowning glory is her hair. Long and blond, if falls like a heavy curtain down to her waist, shimmering in the lamplight, and capturing the senses until one wants to reach out and see if it’s real, this golden halo that surrounds a pale, pretty face.
It’s real.
Real enough, anyway.
She is bumped and automatically reaches to steady the small woman, gasping with surprise. “Oh… OH.. I’m sorry…” She says nothing about the cold, but her touch on Gina’s arm is chilled even through the coat the pikey wears. But that is not the most remarkable thing about the woman who’s barefoot in the snow…
..it’s her eyes. Large, luminous, and shimmering with tears that are unshed, a sadness deep in her that resonates with any who catch her gaze. It’s a hard time for many, and it seems this day has been harder on Mary than she was prepared for…
Did her strap break “…yes ma’am… we were d…dancing, and then he was so angry and when I ran… they broke.”
And Gina says you need to be aggressive, and steps forward to hail a cab for the Lady in White.
[Gina McClaren] Och.. ah’m saerry darlin. Dinnae fret.
*A soft smile, Gina having a moment’s trouble tearing dark eyes off Sweet Sad Mary long enough to get bossy with a cab. The girl touches her and Gina shivers, clearing her throat and lullabying in that pretty voice of hers.*
We’ll gi’ ye out o tha cauld, an thengs’ll look better wi’ yer felly in the mornin. Jes need tae gi’ ye out the snow aforeye catch yer death. Tha’s aul.
OI! O’er HERE!
[Mary] She nods, slightly, when Gina tells her it’ll be all right, as if she doesn’t quite believe her. She smiles, a tremulous brave and sad little smile as she tries to pretend she believes it will all look better in the morning.
Gina calls for the cab – and one comes close, rolls down the window, and then yells “HELL No. Not HER again!” and dashes off to pick up someone else…
Now, he couldn’t possibly mean the wee little Pikey…
[Gina McClaren] *Gina blinks. That was Not the usual reaction cabbies had to her. A glance over her shoulder to the barefoot beauty who looks like she’s about to bust into tears. Gina sighs softly, well, she supposed it was better than dealing with Soledad at the moment. She offers the girl a mittened hand.*
Here darlin.. ye wan tae gi’ some coffee? Cheer up a shade? Nae sense ye standin barefoot an waitin. Ye had trouble wi’ a cabbie afore?
*Gina can remember only two cabbies that have any reason to react so strongly to her. The one Edwin and she had scandalized was a portly white man, and the one Wahya had terrified was a thin east indian gentleman. Neither being the man who’d just sped off. She quirks her lips and makes to lead Mary to the nearest cafe or diner.*
Ah’m Gina.
[Mary] She gasps as the Cabbie speeds away, slender fingers lifting to her lips as she watches him, before Gina offers coffee. She slips her hand into Gina’s and lowers her head, that curtain of hair falling to cover her expression, as she follows Gina, as docile as a lamb…
Her sigh is deep, and filled with pain. “They don’t always like to take me home…”
[Gina McClaren] Why’s that darlin? Ye terrible wi’ tips? Ye ‘ave tae tip em. Cabbie’s an’ cooks darlin. Aulways tip cabbie’s an cooks.
*Gina tilts her head, wincing at the girl’s continued melancholy. A pat to a chill hand. This Girl needed warmth and warmth badly. Pretty strider kin singsonging gently. Voice soothing and soft.*
Wha’s the matter darlin, wha’d ye fight about wha has ye sae torn oop?
[Mary] She laughs softly – just a little, and it sounds like Christmas morning – warmth and spicy and loving and filled with all good things. It’s bells and chimes and dances across the senses, and makes one want to hear more…
“They are afraid of where I live…”
And then she sighs softly. “He thought I was looking after another man – but I wouldn’t dare! I wouldn’t! He gets so angry, especially…” and she looks up, where above them, somewhere, the moon hangs full and heavy “…this time of the month…”
[Gina McClaren] Och, ah kain a whole slew o’ felly’s like tha. Ets the moon aye. Full moon drives some folks batshit, reckon. Mad wi’ jealousy some. Have ye family en the city?
*This girl sounded like kin. Sad, lovely kin. Gina holds the door to a brightly lit diner, letting the warm wash of coffee scented air take the edge off her chill. Her charms jingle as she gestures for Mary to head on in. She was the poor thing with bare feet afterall.*
Where es et ye live darlin? Ah’m en Bronzeville meself. Sometimes ah run entae the same sort o’ problem.
[Mary] “They are!” It’s sad mournfully, as she steps into the diner, and moves toward a table by the window. If anyone mentions her bare feet, she holds up her shoes – she has them, they’re simply broken – and then settles into a seat.
When asked of family there’s a shadow that weaves across her vision. “I’m not sure any longer… He hasn’t mentioned any but his brothers. ”
She inhales deeply, and that shaky little smile returns. “It smells nice in here.” And then, almost belatedly. “Archer Avenue.”
[Gina McClaren] Och, well tha’s nae sooch a bad area..
*Gina frowns and settles into a seat as well, peeling off mitts and hat and setting them beside her. A roll of her shoulders as she shakes her head. Eyes on the sad blonde woman with the bad luck and jealous man.*
Dinnae fret loves, we’ll gi ye home. Ye darted oot on yer felly wi’ oot a coat, sae reckon ets gintae ‘ave tae be cab oor bus. Ah’ve nae car o me own, o’ the moment. Fer now, jes warm oop. Ye wan a coffee mayhaps? Somethen tae sip tae take the chill out yer bones?
[Mary] “Oh tea would be lovely! Thank you!” And when she smiles again, it’s with all the warmth of a summer breeze, of all things sweet and savory, a taste of hearth and home. It’s hard to imagine anyone could be angry at her for long, though perfectly clear why some would be roused to jealousy, just the same.
“It’s a lovely area, but a bit too near Resurrection for their comfort I suppose. Some of them are horribly suspicious and superstitious. As if a ghost would pop from the bushes or something!”
[Gina McClaren] Och, aye. Resurrection cemetery’s auld. Yanks gi’ strange heebie Jeebus aboot anythen aulder than a hundred.
*Rich laughter, Gina gesturing to the waitress and ordering them both Tea with a charming bit of banter. She quirks her lips and shakes her head. Ghosts jumping from the bushes at the cemetary? Hell no. They’d show up on your back door and demand favors. Like.. abducting a murderer and somehow bringing him out to the middle of the god forsaken woods so they can have vengeance upon him. The laughter falls from Gina’s expression, pikey frowning as she plucks up a sugar packet and makes with shaking the sugar to the bottom. Fucking ghosts. *
[Mary] “They tell stories, too, though I’m sure they’re mostly rubbish.” She shakes her head, with that same warm smile. “It gets so that only a few drivers will take me home. I’m sure I’ll find one soon.”
There’s something laced under the words, though, when she says that. Certainty, of course, and perhaps something else, something darker, though it is only briefly there. Perhaps it’s the imagination…
“Do you believe in Ghost Stories, Gina?”
[Gina McClaren] *Gina looks up from her sugar packet, eyebrow raised. Something was amiss with this woman. Her tone was off. Her posture was strange. A woman with a charm as intimate as Gina’s, with hobbies as well known and personal, well, she learned to read people. And something about this story didn’t make sense. Gina tilts her head.*
Dae ah beleive en ghosts? Och, aye. Reckon sae. Wha aboot yerself darlin?
[Mary] She smiles brightly and nods. “Oh I believe.”
She pushes her hair back, and then returns her hands to her lap, until the waitress arrives with the tea, and she immediately reaches forward to wrap her fingers around the mug and lift it to her face inhaling the scents deeply, as if remembering a time far away, long ago, brought to the foreground by a simple scent.
Only then does she repeat. “I do.. I…have too.”
[Gina McClaren] Mmm. Why’s tha?
*Gina sings, taking a sip of warm tea and holding it on her tongue a moment. Eyes drifting shut a moment in earl grey bliss. To hell with Coffee. Tea was where it was at. Reminded her of home. As much as she’d ever had one. She curves her lips into a smile and looks across the table to the girl, curiosity perked.*
[Mary] She lets the steam bathe her face, breathing deeply, filling her lungs with the scents and feel of warm moisture, her fingers stealing the warmth from her cup.
But she doesn’t drink.
Instead, she smiles and sets the cup down, and leans forward o answer the question. “Because my name is Mary…”
And she reaches forward, and touches Gina’s cheek, a wordless thank you for the tea, and the conversation, before she slides from her chair, and runs out the door, sliding into a cab that’s at the curb, unloading a couple headed to the diner.
And with a wave to Gina through the window of the cab… Mary is driven away.
[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s brow furrows. Because her name was Mary? That made little sense. The woman gets up and moves out the door, ducking into a waiting cab and waving goodbye. Gina waves as the cab pulls away, then looks back at the untouched tea.*
Och. Goddamnet.
*A wry quirk of her lips as she sits back and contents herself with finishing her own. A sigh as she thinks on the nameless kin girl that just ducked out on her tab. WEll. At least it wasn’t Soledad.*