2013.04.29 - In The Village

When you're the very thing(s) of myths and legends... It's almost impossible not to believe in 'the old ways'. In ancient Gods and Goddess. In magic and mysticism.

Despite having lived here for the better part of her college life Onora is just now getting a place of her own. This means that it is time to do a little shopping. Not here, of course. She can't afford to shop somewhere like this for most things but it gives her an idea and... Food! Food is important when you plan on spending most of your day off walking around. It will give her ideas though and she can go find it cheaper elsewhere.

She is just making her way out of a little greek bistro with her phone in one hand and a gyro in the other (because I'm starving for one!) and said phone is spitting out directions for the nearest metaphysical shop.

Distracted by what her phone is telling her, she walks right into a man in a crisp black busines suit, spilling some of the sauce from the gyro on him (I can't spell the stuff). Her eyes, one blue and one green go wide in horror. The man stumbles back just as Onora falls onto her rump. He shoots a glare at the blonde and snarls, "Watch where you're going!" And then stands there expectantly.

Several motions are made with her hands by Onora before the man loses his patience and reaches down to haul her up by the arm. "You could at least apologize!"

Fern does a lot of wandering in the Village, haunting it like a penniless specter. Even better for her than the pseudo-shopping is the people watching. She works with people constantly, but at the restaurant and when she actually lands an acting job, and she finds so many things about them fascinating. Mannerisms, accents, attitudes. Except, when it's a bad attitude, it's less fascinating and more frustrating. She's just walking by the frozen yogurt shop next to the Greek bistro, mentally counting the change in her pocket to calculate if she can splurge on a scoop, when she spies the accidental collision a few feet in front of her. She frowns lightly, then more deeply as the young woman involved ends up on her rear, the man standing over her, all glary and 'I'm an important man'-ish. Fern hurries forward as she sees the guy reach out, coming up to them and also reaching out toward the woman, speaking up softly, "Hey, it was just an accident, I'm sure she didn't mean it. And now you've scared her." That last is slightly accusatory.

Those two tone eyes lift to Fern as she rushes over and the smile Onora starts to give turns into a wince as she's roughly hauled upwards by the man. That's going to leave a bruise.

She pulls her phone up and starts to type only to have it ripped from her hands and tossed into the street by the man who is now sneering at both of them. "I don't care what the excuse is. She still needs to apologize and you need to mind your own business, woman!" Her turns that glare on Ona and squeezes hard, making her swallow hard and try to yank her arm away.

Whatever else he might have been about to say...Or do...Is ended as an alarm goes off in his pocket. "Shit! Now you've made me late." He releases Onora with a shove, almost knocking her into Fern before he turns and takes off at a brisk walk, still growling and grumbling.

Onora's eyes turn to look at the now destroyed phone laying in the middle of the street. A hand is run through her hair before she turns to look at Fern and give a grateful smile. Without her phone, her way of communication is limited to... Her hands come up and the words 'Thank you' are signed in the hopes that the girl will understand.

Fern isn't one to get angry easily, but this guy instantly raises her ire. Her usually sunny countenance is thunderous in a way that might make Thor wonder if she had plans to usurp him, and his tossing of the phone and words spark an unaccustomed response from her. "HEY! You owe her a phone, you big jerk!" It's probably fortunate that his alarm reminds him of an engagement and doesn't afford him the opportunity to digest that he's been spoken back to. She 'catches' Onora, which is to say that she's in the way of the shove and by that fact prevents the woman from falling again. Fern is already talking to her, face eased as soon as the jerk turns away. "Are you alright? He had no right to do that! I wish there was a cop around." -Then- she looks up, and sees the vaguely familiar hand motions. Blue eyes widen, and she nods, then holds one hand up, palm toward Onara, in a 'wait' motion. She turns, dashes into the street, and snatches up the broken phone, hurrying back. As she moves there's an attempt to put things back together, but there's a frown as Fern offers it out. "It's pretty busted," she says, looking at the woman, thinking maybe she can read lips.

Onora's shoulders relax as Fern realizes what the 'problem' is. Of course, she's immediately blinking as the waitress dashes out into traffic to retrieve the broken phone. The phone is taken and there's a soft inhale and exhale through the young woman's nose. Her sigh.

Bottom lip is bitten down on a moment before those eyes light and a hand is held out towards Fern just as she had done to Onora a moment ago. She runs into the small Bistro and returns with a napkin and pen. There's a small moment where she takes time to write before handing it over to Fern with a smile. The words read, ''I can hear you so you don't need to worry. I just can't talk. Thank you, btw.''.

Even without her acting aspirations, Fern is an expressive girl, so the regret at the state of the phone is easily read in the knitting of her brow. It's a short trip from regret to curiosity, red brows arching as she's motioned to stay and Onora dashes back inside. She waits expectantly for the note, and brightens at once. "Oh, ok, that's good actually, because the only Sign I know off by heart is my name." As if to prove that fact, her right hand lifts to form the letters F, E, R, N. Now she sighs, and nods to the phone, "I'm sorry that jerk threw your phone in the street. I hope it's insured?" she asks with a wince.

There's a smile and a nod from Onora as her name is signed. Her makes those dual colored eyes dance brightly with merriment. At the mention of the idiot who just left, the blonde instinctively reaches over to rub her arm where it's already starting to darken in the shape of a hand print. She bruises easily.

To answer her question Ona nods her head and then she realizes that her lunch was destroyed. There's a small huff from her before she turns back towards the Bistro and motions with her hand for Fern to proceed her before knitting her brows in curiosity.

Considering the price of phones, and the prices of things are always something Fern considers, the redhead is relieved at the nod. "Oh, thank goodness. But he's still a jerk," she adds, her tone simply stating a fact. He's just lucky that none of her friends were accompanying her in the Village this morning, because surely one of them would have taken umbrage at the treatment of both young women. She's human... for a moment Fern is sad that wasn't the case. She doesn't like bullies. Fern looks toward the little restaurant as Onora motions, and it's like a light going on when it dawns on her. "Oh, that was yours," she says, nodding down to a forlorn looking gyro splatter by the building. It's out of the way, she could just leave it there for the rats to feast on when darkness falls, but Fern just isn't wired that way. She stoops, gathering up the remains, stepping to drop them in one of the many garbage cans that New Yorkers mostly regard as decorations for all the use they get. And the rats will still have a meal later, they'll just have to work for it a little. Attention back in the moment, Fern scoots back over and into the little bistro. She wasn't going anywhere anyway, and it smells good inside. As her stomach grumbles lowly, she notes perhaps it smells a little too good. "So, anyway, I'm Fern," she tosses back as she moves.

Onora likely could have shifted and handled it but... People tend to frown on dragons making snacks out of others. Ah well. C'est la vie.

With Fern at her side, once in the bistro, Onora looks over at her companion and points to the menu in silent offer then gives the girl a pleading look. It's the least she can do for the way Fern helped her, after all.

Introduction made, Ona taps her chin thoughtfully a moment before she starts to draw the letters of her name in the air. O N O R A.

It takes Fern a few seconds to get up to speed sometimes, but as Onora tries to sketch her name in the air, that bulb goes off in Fern's head. She immediately digs in the pocket of her jeans for her own phone, sliding the keyboard out with a snick as she turns it, pulling up a note program that she uses to keep herself on track. It's blank. She doesn't remember to use it often, so has issues with being on track. It's offered out to Onora with a smile, "Here, you can use this."

A bright smile lights on Onora's face as she takes the offered phone. Even on this, she's a quick typist and in no time, it's held back out to Fern. ''Thank you. My name is Onora, pronounced ah-NOR-ah. Let me buy lunch? It's the least I can do.'' In the meantime, the young man behind the counter seems to be waiting patiently on the girls to communicate what needs to be.

Fern reads quickly, at once offering her knee-jerk reaction, "Oh hey, you really don't have to." Then her stomach grumbles at her, rather loudly, to shut up and take food if it's offered. She reddens slightly, but bobs her head, "Thank you, Onora." Still, she orders the least expensive items, asking for a small gyro and a small pepsi. She steps aside, taking the moment when Onora orders to look at the other woman. There's a small, wistful sigh at the beautiful, cascading blonde hair. She doesn't hate her hair, but long, blonde hair falls under the same category as being taller; 'things I'd like to change for one day'.

When the offer is accepted, Onora smiles warmly at Fern and nods her head in thanks. Her order is placed quickly by simply writing it down on a blank ticket just as she had before.

The young man nods and in just a few minutes, their food and drinks are being offered to them on a tray. It takes the blonde a moment to collect it though because she has turned a curious look on her new companion, head canted to the side in silent question of the sigh.

"I'll get that," Fern offers, stepping in quickly at the bare hesitation. She does know how to take advantage of a moment sometimes. "You just worry about the phone, and pick us somewhere to sit?" Besides, she's the expert in this field, and would probably be able to balance the tray on one finger, while doing a line kick across the room singing a Broadway show tune. The questioning look gets a shy smile, and Fern simply notes, "You have beautiful hair."

There's a smile given as Fern collects the tray. She nods her thanks, picks up the phone with one hand and points towards a booth against the window with another.

The compliment about her hair causes her to smile shyly and demure, tucking a piece behind her ear. ''Thank you. I actually love the color of yours,'' is typed out on the phone and held out to her.

Even as she's sliding into one side of the booth, Fern cranes her neck to read the message, and she smiles brightly, looking up to Anora's mismatched eyes. "I think it's a basic fact of human nature that no one is ever completely happy with what they have, but enough people make it to mostly happy that it's bearable." As she settles, she adds, "Your eyes are like that singer, David Bowie. My folks love him."

Onora's head tilts off to the side a moment as she attempts to remember who David Bowie is. Her face lights up as realization hits her and her shoulders tremble silently in laughter as she nods her head. ''My parents liked him too. The condition is actually Heterochromia. She gives her shoulders a light shrug and once the first message is read, she offers another, I like to think it makes me look exotic.''. She even goes so far as to flutter her lashes in a rather exaggerated fashion.

Fern is about to elaborate, by singing one of the Thin White Duke's songs, when Onora obviously makes the connection. She leans, head tilting to read the message, filing the word away to look up later at the library, then the second message. The wanna-be actress looks up just to catch that batting of lashes, and she laughs out loud, the sound crisp and clear among the background murmur of the other patrons. "Yes, very exotic," she agrees. "Are you from New York?" She's met a few people who are, although most are immigrants and the majority of those obviously so. It's a city created by the accents of the people who have sought a different life, usually a better life.

There's a small shake of her head at the question, a flurry of her fingers and then phone is turned so Fern can read it. ''I was born and raised in France. I came here to attend college. I'm a linguist.''. Yes, she's well aware of the irony behind that and the amusement that shows in her eyes and the way she's smiling speaks volumes of it.

Remember how it sometimes takes Fern a little bit, but she eventually gets it? She slips out of her side of the booth, making a light shoo motion with her hands to scoot Onora over so she can sit on the same side. Easier than passing the phone across the table, and the booth is plenty big enough for them both to be comfortable. "I'm from Ohio," she offers in return, "That's a few states west. I came here to be an actress." She smiles and laughs softly, but she can see how the inability to speak could translate to an attraction to languages. "Very cool. I can only speak English. But I've been wanting to learn some German to surprise a friend. Oh! And I know a little Yiddish and Italian from work."

Onora easily slides over, taking a sip of soda as Fern settles herself. The reply is typed quickly. I considered being an actress once but they don't make silent films anymore.. The girl has a sense of humor at least. ''I know French, Gaelic, English and, of course, ASL. I'm currently studying Latin and German.''. There's a pause on then she tacks on, Where do you work?.

Fern's not a big freak about 'personal space', so unless Onora edges away to let her know she's being 'that person' again, she'll lean until her shoulder touches the other woman's lightly, her eyes on the phone as Onora types. She grins, "You never know, everything vintage is in these days. I wouldn't be surprised if silent films made a comeback." And they'd probably all be done in 3D, because why not abuse the technology? "I learned a little sign language in school. I've never really needed it, it just seemed neat. But I never practice, so only really remember a few things now." This comes while Onora types the last question. "Oh, I work at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. Anita Bella. Anita and Julius Berg own it, she's from Italy and he's the nicest guy, Jewish, which is where I've learned the yiddish from." He does tend to smatter it throughout the day when he's at the restaurant. Of course, there's a return question volleyed. "How long have you been here?"

Onora smiles warmly and nods her head in recognition of the answer. ''I love Italian. Almost as much as gyros...'' Which reminds her. The phone is laid aside so the first bite can be taken and a happy sigh is given. The return question has her reaching for a napkin to wipe her hands and mouth before she answers, ''About three years, give or take. I'm in my last year of college.''.

Fern has been able to munch on her own gyro, since she hasn't needed her hands for anything else, and she nods at the answer to her question. "Not so long then." She falls silent for a moment, then leans, to whisper conspiratorially to her lunch companion. "Do you ever look at people and wonder what their stories are?" She doesn't expect an answer, clearly, as she goes on, nodding toward a chubby man in a suit, a bit windblown, eating his own meal at another table. "Like him. He works for an insurance company, but secretly longs to race guinea hens in the Australian outback." She spies a ring on the man's finger, and adds, "His wife has no idea. Thinks they're living the ideal life." The stories she usually makes up in her head are shared softly with Onora to give her a chance to eat.

Onora's head tilts and she gives a shake of her head. She really hasn't ever done anything of the sort but the notion is appealing. Especially as Fern begins to describe the newest 'victims' secret life. A hand is brought up to her mouth and her shoulders shake as if she's giggling. Another bite of her lunch is taken, intrigue and amusement shining in her eyes as she listens.

An audience only spurs Fern on, and she glances sideways, assessing Onora's reaction. Her own smile grows more delighted, and her eyes wander again, lighting on a young man in a black hoodie, eating like it's his last meal. "He's on the run. The Swedish mob wants him for selling black market cheese. They're ruthless, I've heard, so we should keep an eye out for anyone who looks to be keeping an eye on him. Don't want to get caught in the middle of it."

Onora covers her mouth with her hand once more but the way the lines crease around her eyes tell one that she's smiling brightly. The next story comes just as she had taken a drink immediately causes her to choke a little and her eyes to sparkle brightly. She's clearly very amused by the whole thing!

Fern tries not to laugh, it's not really funny when someone is choking but somehow it's always funny. One hand comes up, patting Onora lightly on the back. "Ok, Ok," she relents, "But just be careful buying swiss cheese in future. You never know." She pauses now for a few bites of her own, catching back up in silence for a minute or two, looking content as her eyes wander.

A look is given over to Fern and there's the amused nod of her nod again. They eat in companionable silence for a moment before Onora wipes her hands and reaches for the phone once more. ''I was doing a little window shopping. Would you care to join me when we're done here?''

With her drink straw in her mouth, Fern takes a gulp as she looks at the phone. "Oh sure," she says easily, "I was kinda doing that too, it'd be great to have company." Her eyes drop to her nearly demolished gyro, and then raise again. "Thanks for lunch, I really appreciate it." Her now full and quiet tummy does, also.