Café in Pale Blue
Dates Played: 08 January, 2007 - 30 January, 2007 (closed due
to inactivity)
Date Uploaded to RPTPS: 15 May, 2007
Source: SonicVerse Team Underground, http://www.sonicverseteam.com/
Crystal Plains Wiki Link: http://cpwiki.crystalplains.net/index.php/Café_in_Pale_Blue
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| Syndrome | Her
thumb flips open her mobile phone with a click, flashing a picture of a
blonde teenage girl waving the peace sign with a grin. She scrolls over
with a series of blips, selecting an icon of a mailbox.
Her fingers fly over the buttons, as letters appear on the lcd. Within a matter of seconds, she hits the “send” button. Sender:: Syndrome I’m waiting at the café, on the corner of Rush Rowe and Hero Drive. On the patio, front row. The only table with an umbrella up. Meet here? –Synnie A couple of red bars appear on screen, followed by a message confirming her text was sent. For a second, she wonders why she hadn’t just called him in the first place. The phone snaps closed, and she pockets it, standing up from her seat and pulling her hair over her shoulders. The air is damp with the dewy smell of a light drizzle, but the sky hasn’t quite erupted into a rainstorm, yet. Her hand slides into the pocket of her fitted denim jeans, gripping to the phone, just in case. The pale jade silk of her camisole top flutters slightly in the breeze, the raindrops ebbing on the toe of her black pull-on boots. She unknots the scarf from about her neck, the same colour as the gray sky, and uses it to tie up her hair in a high ponytail, as usual when she was ready to get down to business. |
| Fireball | In the
past Syndrome has sent Fireball a message and he has shown up within seconds,
but that was a long time ago, its a full two and a half minutes before the
Bronze Blur arrives. Out of breath, his sharp vulpine are exposed. He glances
behind him and, as always since his re-incarnation, is saddened that his
trademark streak of fire has failed to appear.
He takes a seat at the only table with the umberella open and smiles up at her. "Happy New Year." |
| Syndrome | “New
Year?” she
echoes, “Not another one.”
Of coarse she was glad that he had come; if her memory served her well enough, she should have known he would have. But that two and a half minutes of waiting was enough to put her on edge, isolating the voice inside that said, ‘He’s not coming.’ So of coarse she was relieved. “I hadn’t been able to tell how much you changed.” she says, finding her balance as she sits on the short black iron fence that frames off the patio. “So when did this ‘fox’ thing happen?” |
| Fireball | He shifts
his seat and it reluctantly turns to face her, and then leans back and straigtens
his legs out in front of him.
"It seems I've been reincarnated into the body of an Olympic sprinter. He's been in a coma since the Fallout. I woke up and I was him. The police are looking for me, I think. Luckily Antipode runs the police force." He pauses for just a second. "Your turn, where have you been? Tell me about your city and stuff." |
| Syndrome | "Olympic
runner turns criminal, on the run? I like it." She leans backwards on the fence, looking up at the sky serenely. Her knuckles flex with her weight, but the fence shows no strain; it doesn’t even wobble. “The city’s in an alternate reality Orion found a long time ago. My… my brother was keeping the fort down, but he got sick. So I took it on, is all.” She pauses, pondering whether or not to explain it any further. She rocks forward again, and checks him over for signs of boredom. “Dull. I haven’t hijacked any bodies of Olympic merit recently.” |
| Fireball | Fireball
is very easily bored, but boredom hasn't crept into his expression quite
yet.
"True, but speaking of bodies worthy of Olympus, tell me about Sunny." Fireball knew about Orion, he hadn't been the best father in the world, and Fireball knew at least some of the horrible details, but Syndrome hadn't talked very much about her brother Arcane (or Grayson). |
| Syndrome | She
nibbles on the corner of her lower lip, as her glance suddenly takes a nervous
lurch to the side. She knew it had been coming; but it was like a shot,
she figured. She could avoid it all she wanted, for as long as she could
fight, but in the end, it’s inevitable, and all the rebellion is a
waste of time.
Her expression eases back into normalcy as she looks back at Fireball, and for a second, she looks like she’s ready to start talking. She opens her mouth, then closes it gently with a soft stare, her knuckles relaxing their grip on the fence. She didn’t want to keep quiet, but it was so hard to get started. “I wasn’t going to have her. It was one of those kind of deals.” |
| Fireball | A thought
crossed his mind which distressed him a little, and then another that distressed
him more.
"You mean one of the 'Oops I think it tore' kind of deals or one of the... the R-word kind of deals?" He hoped it wasn't the second one. He didn't feel like getting angry over something he couldn't fix. Could someone have done that to her? |
| Syndrome | Her
expression gets a little awkward, but then again, it was an awkward subject.
She holds his stare thoughtfully. “I… it was more the guy.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, fiddling with it absently. “He didn’t want me to have her. He didn’t want to be recognized.” She
blinks a few times too many, and stands, the fence creaking a little with
the release of her weight. The rain has just started to grow a little
heavier, as she takes the seat across from him, leaning in towards him
with a hand on her head. “I never should have left…” |
| Fireball | He takes
her other hand that isn't on her head and places it between his hands on
the tabletop, to reassure her.
"But you had to, because your brother was ill, right?" He thinks for a second. "He was ill for sixteen years?" He thinks about sixteen years. That's 80% of his life. "I'm surprised you even remember me after all that time." |
| Syndrome | ((BGM:: "Chicago
is So Two Years Ago" by Fallout Boy, 2005.)) She lets him hold it, but it seems she's not fully connected through it. She's in the physical, across the table from him, but it's more than obvious her mind is somewhere else. She looks up at the table, to him, and sighs out a grin. "You don't forget people who were all inside your mind. ...But more sentimentally, I did think about you guys every day." |
| Fireball | Although
the sentiment is nice, the phrase "you guys" makes it clear to
Fireball that he no longer has a special place in her heart, as she does
in his. He decides not to stress her about it though.
"How'd you wind up with Wind? He's an elf f'crying out loud... not to mention a weirdo! You know he eats caterpillers?" Its amazing how calming burning down a house is, there's very little lingering anger in Fireballs tone now when he mentions Wind, just a shedload of flipancy as is his norm. |
| Syndrome | Her
face is instantly lit with the word 'caterpillars'; she's never witnessed
this herself, but it's easy enough to picture him eating one. In fact, Wind
was one of the few people she had yet to see since her return.
"You know what's funny is, when you disappeared for a year, I thought -you- had forgotten -me-. Wind and I had been great friends for a long time; and well, finally, we kind of admitted we had feelings for eachother." Pause... "He's not a weirdo, though. Are you jealous?" She seems a little impish as she smirks, eager to lighten the melodramtic mood a bit. |
| Fireball | "No,
I'm not jealous." He folds his arms and smiles broadly, indicating
he's not even trying to pretend that what he said was true. "But
when you put it that way it doesn't sound so bad... erm... I think he might
be in hospital, I haven't seen him in a while."
He scoffs. "Disappeared for a year... I was DEAD! Didn't you come to my funeral?" |
| Syndrome | She
slams her palm down on the table with a resonating -swack-.
"Nobody told me sh-t! How the hell was I supposed to be at your funeral if no one told me you bit the dust?" She's not angry at him; she hates being put out of the loop. |
| Fireball | Fireball
knee-jerk reacts and jumps back in shock. His seat tilts backwards, for
an instant he struggles to grab the air before he topplesover, falling off
the chair.
Embarrassed, he gets to his feet, sheepishly looking at the floor. He resets his chair, as he gets a few stares and giggles from passers-by and Cafe customers and sits down defiantly. He clears his throat, unable to look at her in the embarrasment. "Don't do that again." He mutters, a bit angry at himself for being unprepared but mostly seeing the funny side. |
| Syndrome | She blinks at him, amused by his sudden jolt as the flower vase topples to the patio. Luckily enough, the glass doesn't shatter upon impact, but it does rebound and roll off into a corner. She stands, the chair shrieking as she pulls it back, and walks over to it, retreives it with a swing of her arm, and reapproaches him. (While her back is turned, she sneaks in her own little chuckle.) |
| Fireball | Fireball
takes a deep sigh.
"Well, I don't remember all of it to be honest, bits and peices. I know there was a report on the news but I haven't had a chance to look it up on the Internet news archives or microfiche at the library yet. Long story short there was a meteor.... a, uh, peice of the moon heading to Earth. You know how Eggman blew half the moon away years back? Well there was a big chunk floating around for a long time and it got caught in Earth's gravity. I took it on in superform. Should have called for back-up, really, but I can be a bit over-confident when I'm invincible." A forlorn look crosses his face. "NyteShade wasn't there either, she had transcended at the time or something. I don't think anyone was at my funeral." |
| Syndrome | Somehow,
it isn't so difficult to picture him going after the meteor on his own.
"Well, that was dumb." she comments, "But... on the other hand, I'm sorry." She can relate; she hardly remembered what it was like, coming close to death. Completely rigid, and parallel to the bumps of her spine lingers a pale pink scar on her back, a thin dividing line between the angel wings tatooed to her shoulder blades. A grim reminder, of that night Infinity tried to make off with her life. She hadn't even completely died; escaped by the skin of her teeth. But to have a funeral; she couldn't relate. "Hey, let's shake things up." Tired of the dull monotony of misery, her hand slides down her side, her fingers reaching in her boot. She draws out a silver switchblade, nine inches long, and lets it gleam in the light of the rainy afternoon. "I'm a lot less rusty than four years ago... let's see how you are, you body-stealing pansy!" She whips around to face him, her familiar grin sparkling against her features. "Or are you too tame now, for an old-fashioned sparring match?" |
| Fireball | Fireball
grows a confident smirk on his face, and looks at her with a 'baby tiger'
faux-aggression. He puts a hand on the table, then a foot and climbs up.
He springs into the air towards her, but lands short, about a metre away.
Immediatly he drops to a roll, right to her feet, then springs up again
under her.
He positions himself with his right leg behind her legs facing away from her, and her right arm draped across his shoulders behind his neck, holding her arm there with both his hands. A small amount of pressure to her arm opens her grip and the knife falls to the floor, then he pushes her back and she trips over his leg, falling to the ground. |
| (role-play canceled due to inactivity) | |
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