2015-08-11 When It Rains
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: Jayce is a racist!
Players: Blaise, Jayce, Pietro
GMed by Blaise
Title: When It Rains

Jayce pages, "RINGRING!!"

From afar, Blaise answers! Like the guy from Five Nights at Freddy's. "Hello-hello!"

Jayce pages, "He~eyy, it's Jayce. You know. from the boat. And up that skirt."

From afar, Blaise chirps, "Right!" After a beat, he asks, "How're you doing?"

Jayce pages, "I'm doing great. Just been sightseeing a bit in the Big Apple." She pauses a moment, before continuing. "I just thought I'd see what you were up to…or if you'd like to talk someplace less public than the Liberty Island ferry…"

From afar, Blaise pauses. "…Yeah. We can do that. How about tonight, you meet me aaat… oh!" He gives an address. And then adds, "Get up on the rooftop there. If you're not opposed to that."

Jayce pages, "Sure no problem. I'll be there, as long as it's not too difficult to get on the roof."

From afar, Blaise grins on the other end of the line. "See ya tonight, then."

Jayce pages, "Sounds perfect! I need to bring anything?"

From afar, Blaise nope's. "Just yourself."

[* New York: East Harlem *]

East Harlem, also known as Spanish Harlem and El Barrio, is a section of Harlem located in the northeastern-most area of the New York City borough of Manhattan. East Harlem is one of the largest predominantly Latino communities in New York City, mostly made up of Puerto Ricans, as well as a rising number of Dominican and Mexican immigrants.
It includes the area formerly known as Italian Harlem, in which the remnants of a once predominantly Italian community remains.
East Harlem has the highest violent crime rate in Manhattan.The area is patrolled by both the 23rd Precinct and the 25th Precinct of New York City. The neighborhood suffers from many social issues, such as the highest jobless rate in New York City, teenage pregnancy, AIDS, drug abuse, homelessness, and an Asthma rate 5 times the national average. It has the second highest concentration of public housing in the United States, closely following Brownsville, Brooklyn.
The neighborhood, all of which lies within Manhattan Community District 11, is bounded by East 142nd Street along the Harlem River to the north, the East River to the east, East 96th Street to the south, and Fifth Avenue to the west.

Obvious exits: (or check 'rose' for directions)
<W > - West Harlem <CI > - CryGen Industries
<NW > - Morningside Heights

It's a black night tonight. The sky is obscured with dense clouds, and a moderate rainfall creates a steady, monotonous percussion. There's a small commotion in a corner of East Harlem, featuring a few steel drums on fire and overly-vocal crowd. But that's not where Blaise told Jayce to meet him. The rooftop he'd chosen is distant and absent, awash in blackness. A flashlight may be necessary to see, after one ascends the fire escape.

If Jayce has a healthy dose of "I should -NOT- be here," she hasn't noticed it. She climbs the fire escape, hoping she's got the right place, and using the flashlight on her phone to see her way to the top of the fire escape. The girl's at least chosen SOME dark clothing - either that or she was on the way to yoga when she left, as she's dressed in yoga pants and a black yoga bra, with a colourful yellow and blue sheer scarf wrapped around her. Had she realized before she left where exactly she was headed, she'd certainly have worn something less nonchalant. Finally she's reached the roof, and she looks around in the rain for any sign of Blaise.

There is nothing. Just a dark, empty rooftop. As she sweeps her flashlight along the span of shadows, it finally lands on a solid shape - an equine head. It gives an irritated whicker and tosses its flowing black mane.

The unmistakable 'clip-clop' of heavy hooved feet carry the horse closer, bringing its form more into focus. It's an unmistakable horse, jet black in color - muscular, but sleek, not quite a draft horse. The most noteworthy feature, however, fans out to either side in a pair of richly-feathered, massive wings.

Breathless, Jayce approached the winged horse. She whispered softly to it, so not to alarm it. She even turned off her flashlight, after making note of no obstacles on the roof between her and the majestic animal. "I'm not going to hurt you….What's something like -you- doing here? Don't you know it's dangerous?" She approached and held up a hand toward the creature and slowed to one…quiet…step…at a time. "I didn't think things like you existed," she cooed.

Jayce is taking the presence of a mythological beast quite well, Blaise considers to himself. But the pegasus lowers its head and butts lightly at Jayce's face.


The right wing lowers while the left remains extended. The pegasus draws its head back in a beckoning motion.

Jayce can't believe her eyes at this point. She's actually -touched- a pegasus? Or rather, it touched her. She rubbed her forehead and watched it in disbelief as she stroked her fingers through its mane and trailed them down the creature's neck. Maybe this was Blaise's way of giving her a ride to wherever he actually was. This seemed an unlikely place, once she arrived, to talk in safety. And she's equestrian trained. But not pegasus trained. She approaches with caution, placing a hand atop the creature's neck to make sure it's not going to skitter away.

The pegasus waits patiently, letting her brush its wet mane. The rainfall continues to mat its fur, spurring the occasional tailflick to discharge a myriad of droplets behind it. Once she starts to climb onto the saddle-less creature, it sneaks a wing under her remaining leg to hoist her into place.

Jayce, by now becoming drenched, clamps down her thighs against the flanks of the pegasus and leans forward, drawing her fingers through his wet mane. "Hope you know where we're doing…but somehow I figure you do."

The pegasus simply whickers again. Both wings flare out to either side, give a single beat, and the stallion breaks into a run across the rooftop. Once it reaches the edge, it leaps, forelegs tucked and hind extended. The wings beat hard against the humid air, and in an instant, they're flying over Harlem, periodically gliding along the air currents.

Jayce clings to the stallion as it mounts up on the upwardly-spiraling drafts that hold it aloft…that hold them both aloft. A thrilled squeal is stifled but still escapes her lips softly as she holds close to the creature and steals glances at the ground from the sky. It's surreal, and she can scarcely believe she's there. Something will change after tonight…and whatever it is, it's going to be amazing.

The pegasus crests the Harlem skyline, briefly marking its trajectory before plunging into a rapid, missile-lit descent. Its wings tuck at its sides, the head angling forward…! And at the last moment before plunging against a rooftop, the wings snap out to either side to catch itself, smoothly lifting into the air again.

This, Blaise did, simply to make the experience more thrilling for his passenger.

Finally, hooves gracefully alight on another dark rooftop. The right wing angles back and low, offering Jayce a feathery, if wet slide of sorts to descend onto her own two feet. Just at the intersection below, the congregation is still gathered, illuminated in defiant, flickering orange-red firelight. From this distance, the loudest of the voices can be heard. Anti-mutant slang, talk of finding them wherever they hide…

She slid down and landed lightly on her feet and stroked the stallion's face gently, watching his wide, intelligent eyes. Then, for the briefest of moments, Jayce peered down at the protest, wondering if she'd been set up. If this was a trap. If she'd said too much. But she couldn't imagine such an elaborate setup. She listened to what was being said. She'd hear of people like this, but she'd never seen them—never heard the anger and hatred in their voices. She shook her head in utter disbelief, not daring to make a sound in the silence on the rooftop.

She won't need to. Bizarrely, the pegasus will be the one to pipe up.

"What do you think about them?" The voice is smooth, but deep - majestically articulate.

The pegasus moves closer to Jayce's side, peering down at the anti-mutant rally.

"They're talking about killing you."

Jayce startles, feeling the blood drain from her face. Once she realizes that it was actually the pegasus who spoke, she's not certain whether that should make her feel better, or more afraid. "I've never heard such hatred. What reason do they have to hate me? Or anyone they've never met? Mutants are human beings…Just like them! What right do they have….." Her tirade trails off. "Do they think mutants chose their lives? Chose the mutations that make them 'abominations' in their eyes?"

"That's the issue. Mutants aren't human," posits the pegasus. "They're more. The next step. Something bigger."

The nearest wing lifts to create an awning over Jayce's head. The rain cascades along the tight, streamlined feathers rather than her head. Why she didn't bring an umbrella, he doesn't know. Not that this is any skin off his nose, really.

"Humans have sat comfortably upon the apex of this world so long, they're defensive of their position. Now that mutants are truly emerging, they're lashing out. Violently."

Jayce sighs confusedly, and looks around, moving in closer to the creature as she searches the roof with her gaze. Finally, she crouches in closer to him. "You're him, aren't you? You're Blaise?"

The black stallion lifts his head in what may be a comical display of haughtiness. "I'm a /pegasus/," he replies, with the implied 'duh' unspoken. The head lowers again, gaze refocusing on the much closer Jayce. "But you may call me Nightmare."

She nods, knowingly. "Lyric." Her gaze moves down to the fire, which begins to break apart as the man speaks. Sparks fly up, as the sticks and pallets burning disintegrate with the sound of breaking and snapping wood, along with something more - something like the sound of old metal, scraping against metal. The sound is concentrated within the fire, and then fire, quite simply, dies.

The pegasus neither denies, nor confirms her suspicion. It simply watches things inexplicably break and fires snuff out, to the commotion and confusion of the spectators below - an easy ten or so people. All it takes is one person to shout, "Mutie!," and panic to rise in the ranks. With the intersection considerably less bright and the lid already blown, the pegasus dives without warning from the rooftop's edge.

Wings spread and with an unearthly, ghostly whinny, the pegasus' forehooves collide hard with the loudest activist's chest, bearing him to the asphalt. Another rushes in from the flank to try to rescue him, only to be introduces to a powerful kick from a hindleg against the face. He drops instantly. Most of the others instantly choose to disperse, leaving only two more standing. One reaches into his hoodie and retrieves a gun to begin training it on the rampaging mythological creature.

She'd thought to leap, and she was in the middle of doing so, but the sight of the gun in the hand of the protester froze her in place. She stood precariously balanced, her eyes trained on that gun. The gun instantly begins to thrum in his hands, a low note that resonates through the device, but the bottom drops out of the note, and the gun not only breaks apart, but explodes in the face of the protester carrying it. The man's face unrecognizable as a face, and part of his brain spattering from the back of his skull, he falls to the ground with a sickening thud, just as Lyric jumps. Watching where she'd land, an inexplicable sound like percussion pops beneath her and seems to create an invisible cushion of dust beneath her feet, which instantly deflates and she lands on the ground.

The pegasus' head turns to spy the gun as it explodes - along with the head. Though the horse's face is expressionless, it gives a small, even taunting chuff.

The man who had been brought down is catching his breath slowly, the stun starting to wear off. The stallion rears back onto its hindlegs with a neigh, forelegs spiraling in the air to signal its intent. The man only has enough time to sputter out a series of, "Nononono!," before they slam back down with a sickening crunch against his skull and throat.

This leaves one man standing. One man who has seen quite enough. He turns to begin running, hoping to escape the scene unharmed.

Lyric, wracked with panic, only knows that she would be recognized if the man escapes. What's right? She doesn't know. But she knows he can't get away. With a sound of discord like a handful of violinists coming from dissonance into tune, an invisible web is formed in front of him that he strikes hard enough to bounce him backward and leave him flat of his back. Nightmare would likely do the rest. But it was her fault that the protesters knew the two mutants were there at all. It wasn't his place. And she had no doubt, after what she'd seen, that he would. Lyric turned her gaze back to the man lying flat of his back, and without taking a single step toward him, she watched him silently…never sparing a moment for remorse. That would come later. His skull cracked, seemingly vibrating, but the sound this time was a muffled, low hum. She focused more intently, as the man thrashed, and she wondered if her hesitation was what kept her ability from exploding his head like a melon. Or, perhaps, it was because she had never dealt with the medium before. Either way, the man thrashed twice more, then lay motionless. The effect was more gruesome and heartwrenching than she'd thought. But some small satisfaction lay in the back of her mind, remembering the speech of the man by the fire. "Find them where they hide. Kill them all," she spat as his last breath escaped him.

The pegasus almost daintily scuffs a soiled hoof against the asphalt. It is, after all, a regal creature. But its attention soon turns to the fleeing man - until he inexplicably drops back. The stallion's head cocks aside, observing right up until his head a splode. Or at least crack. The pegasus gives commentary only in the form of a whicker.

The beat of wings sounds off behind Jayce, and that's all the warning she has. The pegasus has vanished, presumably soaring high into the sky. The concussed man who'd been kicked in the head has also disappeared. The intersection is silent for a series of tense seconds before a scream gradually grows louder and louder. The man descends through the rain in freefall, his voice abruptly cut off the moment he impacts unyielding earth.

A few seconds later and the pegasus follows, wings flapping to slow its descent beside Jayce. In the distance, sirens can be heard. No doubt someone spied the altercation and called for the police.

"Climb on." A wing angles low invitingly.

Lyric didn't hesitate this time. Instead she slipped quickly onto his back and gripped with her thighs, leaning forward onto his powerful neck. "Ready, Nightmare."

Without another word, the pegasus' wings beat against the air and the two ascend into the rainy sky. There's no trick flying or stunts for this flight, no banter back and forth. The stallion is aware that she's likely done something she never had before, or ever even thought herself capable. This is a very important moment in her life. They settle into a steady stride - almost literally, with the steed's legs 'galloping' along the air as its wings flap.

East Harlem is no longer a safe location for them, should someone with flight decide to look for them. The pegasus takes them further, not settling on a rooftop until they've landed in Brooklyn. This rooftop has a little lighting, but remains comfortably spacious and accommodating. The mythical beast extends a wing and slants it low, offering her a convenient dismount again.

[* New York: Brooklyn *]

Brooklyn is the most populated of New York City's five boroughs, with an estimated 2.6 million people in 2014. It is adjacent to the borough of Queens at the western end of Long Island.
Since 1896, Brooklyn has had the same boundaries as Kings County, the most populated county in the State of New York and the second-most densely populated county in the United States, after Manhattan.
Houses, apartment buildings, restaraunts, shopping centers… you name it, you'll find it crammed into Brooklyn's streets. Being only 71 square miles of space, it is a jam-packed borough and a hive of civilian life and activity.

Obvious exits: (or check 'rose' for directions)
<NW > - Brooklyn Bridge

Jayce slides down silently over the wing of the pegasus and stands pale and unsteady on the rooftop. She swallows and sighs. I didn't mean for—" She can't even say it. She looks up at the eyes of the creature beside her, more questions in her eyes than she can begin to voice.

As her eyes fix on those of the pegasus, it undergoes an intense physical change. The body mass caves inwards, and the limbs shrink and distort. The equine head blunts off until it's assumed a human shape, and the horse's barrel frame concaves and rotates into an upright human shape. In less than a full second, Blaise is standing before her with a solemn expression.

Hands lift to her shoulders, as if to steady her. "That's the reality of the world we live in," he says, his voice its typical soft, human tone.

Jayce shakes her head. "I came here hoping to learn that I was wrong. Hoping to find answers, but I've found only more questions. I don't understand why. No harm would've come to them if they'd just…" She sighs and shakes her head again. "I don't think I've ever been so angry." She seems completely unfazed by his transformation, but instead just looks up at his eyes. The same eyes as the creature who'd stood a moment before, beside her. Smaller. But still as intense and intelligent.

Blaise breathes a soft sigh and nods. His gaze trains on hers steadily through the rain, his white Oxford shirt getting soaked. "I understand. But that's how some of these humans are. They /hate/ us. They think we're lesser creatures. We're the /next step/. We're the ones who're in line to inherit the earth. You're not a weakling, you're not an abomination, you're /perfection/." His hands lower from her shoulders, giving her the chance to stand on her own. But if she faulters, he'll be quick to catch her again.

"We have to inherit the world. We have to take it from them. If they're left in charge, they'll try to eradicate us all - just because we're different. We can make the world a better place for /everyone/, Lyric. A future for us, and safety for the humans who don't want to harm us."

Jayce nods slowly. "They're terrorists. There's no other word for them. They instill hate. They create fear." Her brow furrows. "We didn't have any choice. They had to be stopped. If we hadn'tdone what we didwe'd have been killed." She truth of the statement sinks in slowly, and she looks up at him again. "That's why you took me there, so I could understand that…"

"Or another mutant. Someone younger, without the power to defend themself. Maybe even just a human with a birth defect. They're a cancer." Blaise nods. "They have to be removed."

His head tips back to look at the sky as the rain falls, then back to her. By now, his hair is even soaked. "You understand why I brought you out there, yeah. And to tell you there are people who fight against that. Who're fighting to secure our future. You've proven to me that you're not afraid to fight back."

Jayce nods thoughtfully. "I've caused trouble before. I've caused a lot of it, but I never ki—never did that before. I knew if I didn't, you could get killed. He was aiming right at you. And really I guess it's no different with any other. They're aiming for you. And me. And anyone else. You're right."

"Right." Blaise's head tilts slightly, maintaining his azure eyes on her big blues. "I'm with a certain group… we call ourselves the Brotherhood. We're a group of mutants who're fighting against the humans who'd have us killed and oppressed; treated like lesser lifeforms. We want mutants in charge. We want a better world. Like I said, you've proven yourself. If you want to know more, I can call it in and let you meet with some people…"

Jayce nods without hesitation, her eyes unflinchingly on his. "I'm ready. I want to help. And I want to fight this…this -ignorance-…I'm all in."

Blaise finally allows a little smile and plucks his phone from his pocket. "I'm gonna call this in, then. I've never brought someone in before, so it's better to have someone who's been with the group longer in on this before I show you anything really sensitive."

He seems to second-guess actually /calling/ the person, and instead turns the phone over to tap a quick text message. Once done, he lifts his gaze to her face again. Suddenly, a pair of black, membranous bat-like wings seems to separate themselves from the night sky, attached to his back. One angles high above Jayce's head to create another awning for her, letting the rain trickle down the wing rather than her head. "You did good," he offers.

She looks up at him from under the awning of his wing, and smiles. "Thanks…I didn't expect to have so much….difficulty." Then, adding half to herself, "It was like trying to manipulate oatmeal." She returns her gaze to him and smiles. "Thank you. For being straight with me. For showing me what I'm dealing with. And…for believing in me enough to see it through. I wouldn't have let them hurt you, if there was a thing in the world I could do."

"I had a feeling you wouldn't," replies Blaise. "I got that feeling back on the ferry." The phone is replaced in his pocket. "You seem like the sort who cares about what happens to mutants - about the things human extremists are putting them through."

He gives no comment about the head-cracking she did. He can guess what happened with that, and it's pretty gruesome - but then, he's not squeamish anymore. He can't afford to me.

Jayce watches him quietly a moment, her eyes shining. "Thank you for the…" She lifts her eyes to the wing over her head, despite the fact that he's drenched, and she half frowns, with a thought. She glances up just above his head to the rain shining as it falls, reflecting light from other places. She furrows her brow slightly, and the air thickens, slowly. A soft note, held steady, soon begins to slide up the musical scale, becoming higher in pitch until the air above his head becomes solid, appearing…glasslike. The rain hits and slides off the sides of the cushion of air, and she breathes a sigh, as the volume of the note held is nearly silent. "That should help…" A raindrop slides and plinkos through the cushion from time to time, but all in all, it diverts the rain to run off around him instead.

Blaise feels the rain lessen and tilts his head to peer up at the distorted, glassy mass over his head. His gaze lowers back to her. "Huh. Is that a strain? You don't have to keep it up. Getting rained on is dramatic. Besides…" He whisks his hands along the collar of his button-up in a decidedly playful manner. "Makes me look like Usher."

Jayce smiles, for the first time since they returned. She lowered her gaze away from the cushion, gradually, and back to Blaise. "I hate to break it to you Dear, but you don't look much like Usher…"

Blaise lets the rain trickle back down over his head, should it begin to do so. He gives a little shiver at the shoulders. "No? Mmf," he grunts, faux-disappointed. "Guess I need to workout more."

Jayce shoulder-bumps him lightly. "I don't think that's exactly the issue…" She winks, and laughs lightly.

Blaise tilts with the bump, the wing shifting slightly. Despite the circumstances, a snicker escapes him. "Raaacist," he drawls teasingly.

"Am not!! But he really is….not…a mutant…." She struggles with her argument.

Blaise snickers a little harder as she tries to work out a counter-argument. "Uh-huh. Of course. That's the problem."

Blaise is standing with Jayce atop a modestly-lit rooftop in Brooklyn. One out of a pair of black bat-like wings is being used to shield her from the moderate rainfall this evening, despite them both being quite soaked by now.

"Well I mean look at you….you've got…WINGS. Usher doesn't…have wings." Jayce nods definitively. "So you're totally different. More handsome though," she offers brightly.

The distant boom of the sound barrier sundering cracks in the horizon, roaring towards the pair with an improbably swiftness at Pietro's approach. Asphalt cracks. Car alarms squeal. By the time the speedster hits the side of the building which Jayce and Blaise are upon, the windows are already shattering in his wake. Pietro's momentum carries him high in the air beyond the rooftop and smashes into a landing an arm's length from the duo and pounds a minute crater into the cracked tar paper lining the rooftop.

"So. We've been having some fun, have we?" Pietro inquires, strange accent coloring his words as he flashes a thing smile.

"Buttering me up won't help," chides Blaise, offering Jayce a squint and smile. "But it's a nice touch."

There's a boom. Car alarms are going off. At first Blaise is concerned they've been found by someone they didn't /intend/ to be, but then a blur bursts up the side of the building. Pietro lands, makes his quip, and Blaise blinks at him.

"Jayce, Quicksilver. Quicksilver, Jayce," he introduces dryly. "That was subtle." This is added with a wry smirk. "Anyway, you've been with the group longer. I've never brought anyone in. I thought you should meet her, and we'll go from there."

With a wing still shielding Jayce, Blaise pats the girl's upper-arm. "Tell him what happened."

Jayce turns to Quicksilver, watching him appraisingly, if a little bit intimidated. "He took me to a rooftop…there were…protesters on the ground, and watching them…hearing their propaganda, well it was more than I could stand. I just intended to cause them some trouble. I put out the fire they'd gathered around. But they spotted us..began screaming at us. Nightmare swooped down on them…He took some down. Another drew a gun on Nightmare. I didn't have any choice. I had to do it…The gun exploded, it killed him. In the end…I had to do it again. They're all gone, though. They won't hurt anyone, ever again."

"An apology?" Pietro muses, fair brow drawn upwards with surprise. "Or an excuse? Neither are required. Those men didn't have weapons to talk about mutant suppression. They had them to kill us. Our brothers and sisters." The young man explains, stepping forward to slap Blaise on the back.

Pietro shifts his footing. Old boots with melted souls. A shabby vietnam-era army jacket and tan cargo pants, both scorched from his travels. His eyes are sharp, cunning, and scrutinizing as he studies the woman. "Do you feel regret?"

"She's sugar-coating it a bit," Blaise interjects, following the slap. "The gun apparently blew up one of their heads. The other head popped because she made it happen when he was trying to escape. And they weren't /exactly/ protestors. It was actually a recruitment rally." He glances to Jayce, having not bothered to share that bit of intel with her until now. "The ones who managed to scatter aren't very likely to join up now, after seeing that happen."

"The only remorse I feel is for the fact that they are so ignorant and stubborn they wouldn't give me a choice. I'm angry. I'm not remorseful. They'd have killed him…without a second thought, if I hadn't blown up the gun. I won't let people I care about be hurt because of the ignorance of others."

(OOC:) Blaise sneaks Jayce's name in that pose somewhere. X3
(OOC:) Jayce says "Yeah I noticed that sorry"

"They don't kill those that can fight. They slaughter those that cannot." Pietro agrees with a sharp nod. His chest rises and falls with a deep breath as he saunters back to the lip of the roof. "You reacted with nobility and ferocity in the defense of those who would be victims. Can you operate proactively? Can you kill those /before/ they threaten lives? Can you join us and kill someone in their sleep if they are a monster? In front of husbands, wives, parents, or children? It is important that you can recognize the threats for what they are; that you can perform even in the face of their humanity."

(OOC:) Blaise says "Skiiiiiip me!"

Jace narrows her eyes in thought. "They're the same in their sleep as they are holding a gun on a street corner. I have no reason to hesitate." She looks between Quicksilver and Blaise. "And I'd most certainly risk my life to help the ones who can't help themselves."

"Yeah." Pietro replies with a predatory grin. Ruined boots tap against the rooftop when he walks back to place a palm on Blaise's shoulder and give it a firm squeeze. "Bring her."

Then, like that, he's gone. Hard to perceive the blur of motion, but it was there. The wind cracking in his wake rushes and tears like a hurricane. Pietro considers dinner. Maybe ham, tonight. Blaise simply nods to Pietro before he vanishes off again, causing his clingy, soaked garments to flutter - not to mention a coldsnap to follow in his wake. A part of Blaise has to wonder if running that fast through rainfall makes each droplet impact him like a bullet, but then, if it did? He'd likely be wearing a mask or something.

"Well," says Blaise as he looks back to Jayce. "There you have it. Up for one last little trip?"

"I am. If you are?" She looks up to Blaise, a brighter, more confident smile on her face. The water droplet thing doesn't even cross her mind because, Usher himself is standing right in front of her, in the rain.

Blaise is so not Usher. That facetious, insincere joke is going to haunt him forever.

The wing withdraws from over Jayce's head, letting the water pelt her again. But that's because he needs them. He takes a step closer to Jayce and attempts to scoop her up into his arms, intent on cradling her to his chest. "We're going somewhere to dry off. Maybe even loan you an umbrella, if you decide to head wherever you've been staying. Unless you'd rather I take you there?"

Jayce is scooped up and watches him, quietly, her arms around his neck and her head against his shoulder. "I'm good with wherever, for now…someplace dry. I do have a house in Grammercy, so I can go there as well, if need be. You're always welcome there."

Blaise reconsiders his original plan. The girl in his arms is soaked to the bone. It's warm out, but there's a solid chance either of them could catch a cold at this rate. She needs to get dry, and that likely means she needs to change into something dry. The odds of her finding something to wear at their safehouse isn't that great, honestly.

"I'll take you home," nods Blaise.

With no further delay, the bat wings beat and he launches into the air with her, set on a course for Gramercy Park.

Jayce clings to him tightly as she watches down below. "It's a large brown stone house." She gives him the address….as if he has GPS or something, she thought afterward. She hopes he can see in the dark, and suspects that he can. "Have you always been able to do….This?" She reached up with one hand behind his neck to touch the base of a great wing lightly, mid-beat.

"Ever since humans showed me their true colors," Blaise replies. No, he doesn't have an internal GPS. But he knows where Gramercy Park is, at least. He recently tore a woman's face off there. At least it gives them time enough to talk, even if his voice has to be elevated to be heard above the windshear. "So… a little over two years or something?" He spares her a glance, then resumes training his eyes on the dark cityscape below. "Is this too cold?," he asks.

Jayce smiles, but shakes her head. "I think the excitement of the night still has me in its grip. The cold's only just now starting to soak in. I think I'll survive. Aren't you cold?"

"Uh-huh!," openly admits Blaise. He's quite cold. By now, he would've assumed another form. But doing that while holding her could be dangerous. He's never tried to assume a form that might engulf another person. They could be crushed, they might suffocate… there's no shortage of possible risks.

Gramercy Park looms in the near distance. "Can you see?," he asks, adjusting her carefully in his arms. She's slippery, given how they're both drenched. The chill factor isn't helping much.

"Ohh…it's beautiful from up here, too!" Jayce clings tighter to him, trying to share her warmth with him. "Just beyond that grove of trees. It's around the S-curve. There. Do you see the gas lights at the end of the driveway?"

Blaise follows the directions as bid, picking out a nice, dark alley to use for his descent. The wings tuck in as he picks up speed, only to expand them at the last moment to create an updraft, cushioning their landing considerably. They have officially met the ground again. And those wings have vanished, as though they were never there to begin with.

At last, Blaise tilts the girl to set her upright on her feet again. "Go on inside. Get warm. I'll talk to you again soon, and if you need anything, call."

"I could drive you home, Blaise. You're freezing." Jayce furrowed her brow, watching him narrowly.

Blaise glances over his shoulder. He could take away all semblances of cold very quickly. But then, that might be overplaying his hand. Some techniques, some shapes, are more fun to keep in his pocket until they're needed. Jayce barely blinked at the pegasus. Startling or spooking her may become a game of his.

"O-okay… might be nice to do things the civilian way at this point. But after you dry off!," he insists, knowing full well that he's going to continue to soak.

Jayce leads him to the front door, which is brightly-lit in front of the stone house, and holds the door open for him to go inside. "I'll get you a towel." She reaches for a remote that lights a fire in the fireplace when she touches a button. "I'll be back." And with that, she ascends the stairs, peering back down a moment later to toss him an oversized white fluffy towel.

[* New York: Lonecroft Residence - Gramercy Park *]

This is a very upper class home in a high scale part of Manhattan.
Stone staircase leads up into the home and once through the large double doors one finds themselves inside a brownstown building with wood floors and fine furnishings all through it.
On the main level is a dining room, a living room, a kitchen and a study along with a backdoor exit into a small lovely backyard.
On the second floor one can find three bedrooms and two bathrooms including one in the master bedroom.
There is also a basement accessed through the kitchen on the main floor. The basement holds another bedroom as well as laundry facilities and a half-bathroom.

Obvious exits: (or check 'rose' for directions)
<O > - Leave the Residence

Blaise comes in and is promptly blown away by the decadence of the home. It was absolutely not what he was expecting, given what he was told. "Holy…," he murmurs, pausing in the foyer. And for his distraction, he's bamf'd in the face with a towel. "Mmf!"

He removes it to begin dabbing over his drenched self. And then, after a futile period of continued dabbing, finally gives in and unbuttons his shirt to remove. It'll dry much faster that way, and won't be freezing him while he waits. He resumes brushing over himself with the towel afterwards, laying the shirt haplessly on the floor for a lack of knowing where else to put it that won't risk staining.

"Thanks," he calls after her.

Jayce returns down the stairs, carrying a pair of jeans and a black tee-shirt. "I don't know if you can wear these or not, but if they fit, you're welcome to them." She's dressed in a blue tee with the words "If you believe in telekinesis, raise my hand" on it, and a pair of jeans. Her hair's been unbraided, and cascades down over her shoulders in blonde waves.

Blaise asks the obvious question: "Why do you have guy clothes? Is there a boyfriend that's going to come over here? Because that's a little weird." He squints at her suspiciously, not yet accepting the shirt and what may well be skinny jeans.

"They're from before I moved here. I met a guy in South Florida. Great guy, seemed like. He left in the middle of the night one night. I was having a nightmare, and when I woke, the first thing that I looked at, shattered. It was the glass on his nightstand. It made a lovely note when it did." She frowns. "He fled, never looked back. Left in swim trunks. Hit the beach and never looked back. Those were his. I didn't know what else to do with them. He wouldn't return my calls."

"Oh. Forget him." Blaise shakes his head. "And burn those. It'll be therapeutic." And he's not touching them. He has no interest in wearing the clothes of a mutant-hating xenophobe. He'd rather catch the Flu. "I'm alright."

"All right. If you're sure." She moved to the fireplace, tossing the clothes onto a chair. "I don't guess I realized how cold I was." She crosses her arms and warms by the fire. "Thanks for tonight. It really opened my eyes…" She glances up to him, trying not to stare, since he's all shirtless 'n stuff. She hangs his shirt over a copper rack by the fire that holds a poker and ash shovel, since it's never been used on a gas fireplace.

Blaise inches closer to the fireplace. It's nice. It's warm. It's inviting. "I would've expected you to bring an umbrella, though," he chides. "But I'm glad you've taken it well. What we do is very important. It's good that you're a part of that." He folds his arms rigidly over his torso. "Tomorrow, come by the church. I'll show you where that is when you drop me off. There are some things to see."

"I'm afraid I'm a little scatterbrained. I forget things like that. Umbrellas. My phone. I lose my keys. I kinda…suck, sometimes." She breathes a laugh. "I'll take you whenever you're ready. Or you can crash here tonight and I'll take you tomorrow, if you wanna sleep by the fire. The couch is super comfy."

Blaise shakes his head firmly. It's too big of a risk yet. "I'll be going back. No reason not to." He draws in a slow breath, then exhales it in a gentle whoosh. "Thanks, though."

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