Encounterlogs
Ivys Odd Encounter Sr Novel 240926
In a gritty, lived-in atmosphere of the Great News Community Center, individuals from various walks of life congregate, seeking solace and assistance amid their personal battles with addiction and hardship. The foyer bustles with harassed volunteers, the aroma of the soup kitchen, and the quiet promise of the chapel nearby. Amidst this, the community gathers, marked by the signs of their struggles and the small victories in form of new clothes and hygiene kits, a silent testament to their ongoing battles yet a symbol of hope and communal care.
Savannah, engaging with Ivy, discusses her intrigue in participating more actively in the center's roles, offering her contact for further communication. As they navigate their way around the community center's activities, Savannah finds herself amidst discussions on the impact of Novel Norman's actions on the local homeless population, with accusations of him exploiting the vulnerable for financial gain. The narrative shifts focus towards the communal effort to address the root causes of heightened thefts, leading to a brainstorming session on how to alleviate the underlying issues without resorting to punitive measures. Amidst these discussions, personal interactions hint at broader themes of community, sacrifice, and the pursuit of a balanced solution that benefits all, particularly the homeless who’ve found themselves unwittingly better off due to questionable schemes. As conversations unfold, the importance of empathy, understanding, and direct action comes to the forefront, underscoring the complex interplay between individual needs and community welfare.
(Savannah's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Wed Sep 25 2024]
In the busy foyer of Great News Community Center
The community center's foyer has a gritty, lived-in feel. Harried volunteers weave through a mix of individuals, some bearing the weight of hard-lived stories on their way to addiction counseling. The aroma from the soup kitchen mingles with a sense of desperation and hope, while a small chapel to the north offers a quiet corner of solace, its doors open to all. Nearby, the religious bookstore stands as a beacon of faith amidst the tangible air of struggle.
Mounted prominently on the wall opposite the entrance is a large cross, along with a slogan: Jesus didn't just give good news, he gave GREAT NEWS!
Aside from it, on the wall next to the entrance to the chapel, a large painting of Saint George engaged in a heavenly battle with a ferocious, massive red dragon dominates the wall, a poignant symbol of the ever-present battle against addiction.
Signs give directions to parts of the community center:
(North) Chapel
(East) Soup Kitchen & Multi-Purpose Room
(South) Bookstore & Gifts
The southeastern wall bears a decorative mural of Jacob observing the ladder to Heaven.
It is afternoon, about 71F(21C) degrees,
"That actually sounds pretty amazing. I might dabble a little bit myself," Savannah says to Ivy as she smiles over at the other woman, "We should talk about it sometime, but I think I'll take a look, maybe see if I can reach out to someone about this Novel situation." She gives a little wave towards some of those gathered and says, "I need to keep on the patrol though, but my number is..."
"7107191 if anyone wants to reach out, sometimes it is easier to text about things than call the station," Savannah offers up.
Magnus nods, "My number is 710-7272 if anyone requires it. I am ever available for Handyman services, heavy lifting, and security."
Gathered in the foyer of the Great News community center, Ritsuka had assembled Viktorin, Illyana, Brian, Magnus and Ivy. Conveniently enough, as they were deciding on what course to take, Savannah entered, and unfortunately for the poor deputy, found herself being lambasted by accusations that Novel Norman, (that deviant) was cause for all of the finance issues in Haven with his abuse of the homeless population. Thankfully however, Ritsuka likewise has it in hand, leading the party.
After that, Savannah begins to meander on towards the doorway to the community center once more, waving, "Remember, text if you all need something, going to go reach out to a few people."
Ritsuka looks down to her phone and enters something on her phone, and then makes a nod to Savannah "I wish you well, Savanna." She says, making a light bow again. "Bai-bai" She says very casually after that and then glances around the community center, telling the others "I think it is time that we look at the situation. And maybe we can fix it. And then we can figure out about any dirty guilty person later. Let us go and ask some of the people here?"
And so people have gathered. The homeless are discontent. Sure, there are lines 'pon lines of them, streaming here and there, but it's not like the disaffected, or the tired, or the hungry, receiving their dolloped meals of soup or curry to keep them functioning throughout the day. There's a strange focus. An intensity. There's more of them. Murmurs, talking. Elsewhere throughout the last few days in the wake of the flooding nothing has been untouched: Nobody has been assault, but unattended bags, shipping containers, groceries, disappearing and vanishing. Squads of disaffected moving around and running - leaving things when actually confronted. It's still going on, of course, hitting people's purses and depressing wages by the sheer amount of content taken.
In one case someone's dog was stolen. A lovely purebreed. They're valuable, after all.
But here: There is none of that. A safe haven... but they talk amongst themselves. Moving around. The scruffy, unwashed or wearing sanitizer or using dry soaps to help keep themselves. Scraps and clothing. But...
The homeless don't seem abused. In fact, many of them are wearing things. New shoes. New pants. New shirts. Little plastic containers hard instead of plastic bags with toiletries in them. Here, though, there's only the steady flow of food to the homeless, despite the new apparent wealth.
"So, this is a problem. It's a problem for all of us, and for a lot of folks in town. But... is it a problem for the homeless people that seem to be benefiting?" he shrugs. "I want it to stop, but to tell them collectively, 'stop doing something that's been good for you'... might not go over well." Brian says, with a look around to those gathered.
Ivy looked around, it seemed like guilty conscience was getting to her. "I don't know." She comments to Brian. "I mean, they've been doing better than ever it seems, and I'd love for them to be happy like that, s'almost like I can feel them happy and wanting those things." The girl scratches the back of her head. "Perhaps we can make a compromise that benefits them while not harming the rest of us either? A middle ground of sorts?"
Brian nods. "That would be the ideal, sure. So... anyone have thoughts on what to do? It would be nice to say we should just give them all jobs, but... that might not be feasible, and some of them might not want jobs, because we'd be asking them to put in honest work for what they now get with little effort." he says.
"Theft is still theft. It's against the laws of every single country with established foundations- Which is likely why Novel inspired it." Illyana bluntly states. "I understand where you're comingfrom, but this is bigger than a few bucks and a new set of clothes. There are a lot of people depending on their wages, their buffer, their little extra; The thing is, if it was handled as a drive, it would be different, but this is mass thieving." Hands on hips, Illyana stares at Brian. "I appreciate where you're coming from, I really do. But good intentions or not, this is not okay."
Viktorin folds his hands behind his back as he cocks an eyebrow, gracefully gliding betwixt the crowd as he notes each fresh item being worn. Then he wonders aloud, "What be the price of things that one would tarnish their soul?"
"You mean the goodies they will need to share because there will be more homeless people at the rate this is going? And less donations because people just don't have the money to donate and then they will be hungry and might need to sell the items and lose them anyway," Ritsuka asks, glancing back to Brian, pursing her lips, thought she nods to Ivy. "It's never black and white. And we're not here to take from them, but everything is fleeting. So will this seeming joy, and the only one benefitting from all of this is the perpetrator, because he has a job and made more from this."
"Ritsuka's right." Illyana agrees with Ritsuka as she watches Viktorin walking through the croud. Standing with Ivy off to one side, she too regards the gathering with what might be preternatural observance.
Standing up to his full height from leaning against the wall, Magnus gives a nod as he listens to the others discuss the situation, offering, "Things cannot just be taken from people. Let us engage with them and find out what they require." he reaches down to grasp one of the homeless by the shoulder and leans down to speak with him, "Hello, sir. I notice you have some new clothes, where would I find myself some like that? I'm down on my luck and would perhaps like to join your group here." he mentions as he gets in line to get some food.
"I'm just trying to talk things out and see it clearly, not defending their actions, or his. I think it needs to stop, period. But... I'd like to find a way to make that happen that causes the least trouble for the fewest people, and maybe improves the overall situation for the homeless people. I'm just not sure exactly what that is." Brian says. "I also kind of want to kick Novel in the nuts. But... that also doesn't solve things."
Ivy says "We can also just solve the thing and THEN kick Novel in the nuts. Sounds like a win-win, no?"
"You're not kicking anyone in the nuts." Illyana tells Ivy. "He's far stronger than you are and you'd get hurt. A couple people here likely would." There's a pointed look to the others, speaking crypticly as she lacks the intel on Viktorin and Magnus in specific, but a slight nod to Brian and Ritsuka.
Ritsuka smiles a sweeter note to Brian and nods. "That is the goal. So let us go on and try figure this out." And so, she takes a few steps away from Brian, glances around and looks for someone that is just sitting aside. Someone that looks to be in the middle, between the ones with new items and the ones that still struggle, people that look more grim than others, people that have a conscience.
Ivy lifts her hand. "Jesus liked to help the poor and constantly argued for the support of them so that all of them can be uplifted and live their life fully." She explains to Illyana. "So I feel like, if I have to draw from wisdom on how to solve this." She brings a hand to her chin. "We should probably tell them that stealing is wrong but help them regardless in a way that isn't theft." She furhter elaborates.
She softly sighs. "Right, right... Sorry, getting too ahead of myself." She murmurs to Illyana softly, following her closely.
"Once more," Viktorin raises his voice, growling to those surrounding him, "What is the price of your efforts, compared to the new baubles you foist, that which may all but disappear tomorrow? Is it worth the suffering of your fellow man to elevate yourself whilst yanking him down? Have you elevated yourself in a manner worthwhile to earn his ire, that which you take? What of those who benefit more than you from your actions, who shall allow you to suffer more from your acts so that they may sate their own desires of drugs and items, safely tucked away in a safe place above you? Tell me, are your acts worth the consequeunces of tomorrow?"
Illyana looks to Ritsuka. Looking as though she has her own way to manage this involving a flame thrower and or the police (which ever comes first), she navigates the hall beside Ritsuka, Ivy in toe, glancing to check on her from time to time. There's some mild interest at what Viktorin is doing, but she largely leaves the man to his business, trusting that he has something in mind.
Illyana seems to be listening as she walks, nostrels flaring as she observes the room for anything out of place or overly obvious.
Illyana takes her study - it seems the rich, the beautiful, the obviously powerful that exhibits from the group standing around and chatting who do not at all mesh with anyone here in the Community Center - not even those equally tired people who are nevertheless doing their best to put on bright smiles and help said homeless people - are avoided. A wide berth. Something weird. There's a tremor in the crowd as a particular man keeps getting mentioned. A slow gathering - and then an emptying. Though, honestly, some of them linger to listen to Viktorin. But, it's mostly brushed off.
The spindly looking person that Magnus grabs is pale, wan, and has the distinct marks on the neck of someone from needle injections - and vampire bites. They give a darting look over Magnus's form before there's the immediate glare of suspicion mingled with the desperate cowardice of a cornered rat scrunching up into themselves as their hands shake. The discontent in the homeless crowd raises. There's muttering, when they're just trying to get to get their meals, and a wave of hostility comes with it. The dancing of desires and suffering and focuses starting to revolve around Magnus, and none of it good. They scrunch down in his grip and sort of tuck themselves in, their lips sealing shut.
"I'm not sure manhandling them is going to work." Brian offers, looking over at Magnus. "Look, I'm nineteen years old. I'm not rich, I'm not established. Sure, I'm fine. I have a warm place to sleep, and food when I need it. But I pay for those things, and I work for the money that lets me do so. I give when I can, to places like this. My Eagle project was to help build a new wing on a shelter back home, specifically for pregnant women. I am happy to put my time, my efforts, my limited talents... and what money I believe I can spare, to help people who are less fortunate. But to have my money stolen away from me... honestly makes me less inclined to help. Not just the thieves, but the people in the middle who need the help but haven't done anything wrong." As he says this, he raises his voice a bit, trying to make sure some of the homeless here for food and drink hear him, too.
"Mmmhmm." Magnus murmurs as he looks around himself and readies to get his meal as well, the simple tank top and rugged jeans he's wearing aren't too high class for the folks he's dealing with, but he narrows his eyes and murmurs lowly to the homeless around him, "Easy there, buds. I mean you no harm, but I am not one to back down from a battle. Let us all eat and drink together and be merry, or to battle if you must."
Moving closer to Ritsuka, Illyana informs her of what she can hear with preternatural senses; The homeless who have scents too clean, the far too new clothing, the snatches of conversation and locations- By the forest, the sewer, the abandoned warehouses. There's a man being namedropped frequently- That too is conveyed, and the same to each of the others in turn, moving through the gathering sanse Magnus to tell Ivy, Viktorin, and Brian. Then of course, she returns to Ritsuka, waiting to see what she wishes to do, though her attention is inexorably drawn to the man with vampire bites being collared by Magnus. She seems very pleased with that in fact, enjoying that manhandling if her wrapped gaze is anything to go bye, though she is at least attempting, if only partially successful, to keep that from her expression.
Ivy stopped to look off into the crowd sometime, getting distracted by things that appeared to not be seen normally, but every once in a while that Illyana checked up on her, she hurried up to be by her side. "How do you usually deal with unhappy customers, if you ever do, hun? Maybe some of that knowledge could be used to prevent this from going, well, ballistic..."
"I don't." Illyana tells Ivy with a grin. "That's what I employ people to do for me."
Louder does Viktorin's voice raise, as it's clear the intention. The stoking of a fire. "Tell me," Viktorin wonders, "Did Novel Norman, who has set thieves upon the apathetic, and I shall not argue against their apathy, did he tell you what may occur to you as he moves to acquire that which you strive for?" Pausing the Czech ignites fury in his voice. "Tell me, will that man even endeavor to protect you, as a man of honor may, once politics move against you? When the police begin cracking down on the impoverished and meek? He will be safe, I tell you, because he is not in your position. But when the thefts create further attention, do you truly think you shall escape unscathed? And furthermore, do you think your shirts, shoes, and other articles, that which could've been given to you without theft by the very man who has set you to illict tasks. To manipulate you for his own fortune. Do you think it truly worth the inevitable and tragic boot that may stomp upon you? He uses you as a pawn in his war against the classes. To ignite class warfare without any true intention to protect you. To care for you."
Ritsuka breathes calmly through her nose, and she listens to Illyana, though she does come to a stop while Illyana is letting the others know and instead focuses on someone she knows is sick. "You don't look so very well, I think you have the flu, you should visit the pharmacy across the street later, they can help you with some medicine, if you don't have the money, don't worry, I'll have them be prepared to help, we can't always but there was a flood recently, so they will get you sorted. Please (treat the staff nicely)." She smiles, a note sweet.
When Illyana returns, and Viktorin continues his speech, she still smiles a little, but then rises to her feet and turns to Illyana, talking very discretely, in a whisper: "Let's single one of them out and corner that person."
Some of them pause to listen to Brian, the discontent changing in subtle tone - an effect of appealing to the humanitarian motion of man, even the lowest of the low, who's minds have been bent and twisted in so many ways. Not just by raw drugs and their own quirks of birth but also by other lifestyles. "Let me go," There's a squirming of the person Magnus still holds, gripping to - admittedly ineffectively - trying to pry his fingers apart. A breath. And then the crowd breaks with someone shouting to Viktorin, "Fuck you," Someone calls out in the crowd, in the mass of bodies. What a very novel and clever answer, "You don't even try." "Yeah! Go back to being stomped on? Go fuck yourself!" "You're probably HAND." Someone else calls out. And then the riot starts. Sanctuary protects from property damage, the stabbing and true injuries, as Viktorin monologues about class warfare and pawns while standing in the middle of a homeless shelter the same man he's accusing about, works out and regularly helps hand out food.
Well, he gets what he wanted. A swarm - rats. Rats with pelts and furs cleaned for the moment, perhaps, but still rats, descending on ... Magnus. The lady in attendant, the worker here, disappears - presumably to rush to the kitchen and call the police. The injured, the limping Ritsuka signals out - well, it's a bit late for that.
Most of the crowd are human. Some of them aren't. And then - more start pressing in.
Sadly, Ritsuka's target - limping and ill as they are - is getting drawn into the fervor. The persuasion presses in, sinking, but there's a certain amount of angry intensity in the crowd of the depressed, depraved, diseased, and dysfunctional disaffected.
Ivy once again continues to stare off into nowhere in particular. She wasn't the best at social situations, and crowds utterly terrified the girl. It seems that just before the whole thing comes crashing down, she touches to warn Illyana, yet just as she explains what's about to go down - it happens. Lucky foresight, maybe? "We should break up the fight somehow, I don't want more people getting hurt." She murmurs softly. "What do you think?"
"I have pepper spray, but I'd really prefer not to use it..." Brian says. "But if it's that or more of these folks getting hurt..." He looks undecided, but places one hand in his pocket.
Releasing the man, Magnus begins to stomp and kick the swarm beneath his feat, growling as he clears some space around himself, making sure that the homeless or his compatriots don't get hurt. Cussing up a storm in both modern and ancient languages, the massive man is using his hiking boots to clear the ground as his massive mitts sweep swaths of rat swarm and he yeets them out the door, trying to clear out the pests and de-escalate.
Ritsuka glances back just in time as the crowd starts to rile up, and with a quick tone, she tells Illyana "I'm going to go after the staffer, Yana." And so she does, rather than try to get into the scuffle, she looks to circle around, pushing, if someone gets into her way and with as little need for violence as possible, out of the way to go through, and follow the departing staffer into the backroom, not just to stop any police calls, but to interrogate. Magnus ending up as a sort of distraction. She for her own is thin, does not take up much space, so perhaps the most suited to pass on by. She does sigh at the roar of sudden violence and shakes her head, disapproving.
Illyana with angelborn speed bodily blocks Ritsuka, thrusting her back from the stampede with someone in the fore, being sure to keep Ritsuka and Ivy behind her. There's nothing visible (yet), but Illyana looks ready to either bolt or fight- She knows her job here and it's not face kicking humans, but protection detail. Assuming Brian and Viktorin are able to take care of themselves (Ritsuka called on them after all), she lets them fend for themselves. After all, Magnus is huge. He is likely able to pluck them free if it comes to that.
Illyana with angelborn speed bodily blocks Ritsuka, thrusting her back from the stampede with Illyana in the fore, being sure to keep Ritsuka and Ivy behind her. There's nothing visible (yet), but Illyana looks ready to either bolt or fight- She knows her job here and it's not face kicking humans, but protection detail. Assuming Brian and Viktorin are able to take care of themselves (Ritsuka called on them after all), she lets them fend for themselves. After all, Magnus is huge. He is likely able to pluck them free if it comes to that.
Having finished typing long after Ritsuka decided that steps to one side, letting Ritsuka go after the staffer. Illyana is likely faster, but that's unimportant here. Illyana has her task to do and it's still protection. So she keeps back with Ivy as Ritsuka runs, ready to (very literally) jump in if needed.
Brian pulls out his can of pepper spray, keeping it low, as he begins to shout. "Stop. Stop it please! We came here to figure out how to help all of you! Please, let us do that!" He tries to help whoever he can, pulling people behind him so they don't get crushed. "Please, let's talk this out! We don't want anyone to get hurt!" That said, he is ready to apply the spray judiciously if neeeded, because it's less harmful than bullets and blades.
Bear peers about, taking in the streets, "Shit, they don't even do the bear minimum here. These potholes are everywhere."
Ash nods to Bear, drawling, "It's a trailer park, no one cares about them. Which is why it's perfect, honestly. A community that understands your needs that shares what it has with you." And then... they frown. They squint at Bear. Then they ask, voice low... "Did you just make a fucking pun?"
Baxter snorts a little as he loads up from the car, "'bear' minimum..." he snickers out as he piles himself up with boxes.
"I do more than flutter my eyelashes," Isaiah says to Baxter as he and Bear pull up in front of the Longhouse, her lips pulling a little tight as she walks over to him, though she makes no attempt at taking the boxes from either men. She simply stands on her toes and presses a kiss against each guy's left cheek, just below the eye. "I do that too," she preens, then turns, walking towards the homeless breeding ground with her lackies in tow- pausing to make sure Ash is doing well enough on their own with exactly one million juice boxes in their hands. "C'mon, most of them are either shooting up or in bed right now. Time to flip on the lights and do a wakeup call," the Queen of Devilwood announces, already striding past the group and into the building with a swish and sway of scantily-clad hips. "Remember, offer assistance but continue the fucking cycle. We're not giving out free candy," she mutters under her breath, just loud enough for her compatriots to hear.
Bear smirks, peering sidelong at Ash, "Did you just advocate communism?"
Bear nods firmly towards Isaiah, gaze focusing as he's given an order, "Got it, Boss." He walks with his box and absurd tower of juice boxes a little straighter.
The streets are... quiet. It's later in the day, it's dark, and there was a recent hubbub. Most of the homeless population has gone to ground, and there's a stillness to it. And part of it is rebuilding. Those spaces that were once flooded are now empty, and while not dry, are usable once more. So there's silent work going in the background. A rustling. The amount of thefts are tapering off: The violence, the abuse. Things are going missing here and there, but... it's almost all over, the problem ignored until it stopped being a problem.
There's little malice in the heart of the disaffected. Survival was the higher priority and police and people have been pushing back (occasionally violently). Especially with the recent scene in The Great News Community Center.
Where, exactly, is this little group going? Which building?
"Ah fuck they're already doin the politics thing." Baxter whines as he tromps after Isaiah, hurrying now to try and leave Ash and Bear behind, "God save us, let's get these folks patted on the head and tucked in with juicies before they get to Anarchism." he babbles, "Hell of a fuckin word, though, anarchism..." he muses, to himself, but aloud, "Rolls off the tongue real nice. Fuck listenin to people talk about it, though.".
Ash laughs, drawling, "Oh, I love you, Jayarr. And no, Bear." Their voice drops a bit lower for the sake of subtlety. "That would suggest that there's no ulterior motive - that's what we want them to think and feel, not necessarily what's actually happening." They manage their 75 various food and drink products with more grace than one would expect for the wiry little elf, but they don't hide that they are having a hard time. To Baxter, they speak louder, saying, "I hear you've got a big dick, Bax. Big enough to fuck yourself?" They grin, moving forward quickly, heading into the Longhouse with everyone else.
Ash laughs, drawling, "Oh, I love you, Jayarr. And no, Bear." Their voice drops a bit lower for the sake of subtlety. "That would suggest that there's no ulterior motive - that's what we want them to think and feel, not necessarily what's actually happening." They manage their 75 various food and drink products with more grace than one would expect for the wiry little elf, but they don't hide that they are having a hard time. To Baxter, they speak louder, saying, "I hear you've got a big dick, Bax. Big enough to fuck yourself?" They grin, moving forward quickly, heading into the Longhouse with everyone else. (repost for Bear)
Bear sighs softly as he moves forward, sticking close to the rest of the group, "Don't think I've met a man who loves the sound of his voice more than Bax."
Bear perks a brow at the sound of wolf howling, peering about, "They uhh... fightin' dogs down here? Not sure I'm paid enough to stab a bunch of pit bulls."
Isaiah listens idly to the banter behind her, but for now she doesn't engage: she's steeled herself, a side less-shown to the public, let alone most of her allies. She's in business mode, and she pushes open the door that leads into the Longhouse rather gently, pausing in the main entrance and taking it upon herself to flip the switch on every light in the building, a mass collection of them right by the door swatted all at once, flooding the space with luminescence. "Curtis, Bob, Walter, Phil, Charles, George! Everyone else! Feeding time!" she calls out, her voice loud but at the same time soft and feminine. This is her kingdom; these are her people. She knows most of these sad fucks by name, and those she doesn't, she has made up names for. She's dealt drugs here as often as she's administered Narcan- dead addicts can't spend money, after all. "Special delivery, courtesy of The Most Dangerous Game and Rosie's!!" she calls out a bit louder, then frowns. "Where the fuck is everybody?"
Isaiah adds on to Bear afterwards, saying, "Not Pit Bulls. Wolves. So long as you stay in town and out of the woods, you'll be alright," she purrs, seeming far less afraid of the beasties than should be realistic for a woman of her size.
"The sound of my voice is great." Baxter assures Bear. It's really not. It's a heaping helping of west-coast mixed with some wayward dash of italian, it's an abomination, an affront to accents everywhere, "And, I mean, I bet I could." he reasons to Ash, "But I'd have to find the -time- and it's usually busy other places." he chatters happily along. He snorts a little at Bear, "Doesn't even know about the wolves and he wants to throw shade..." he half-scoffs, half-teases. He pauses when Isaiah's ringing the dinner bell, though, glancing around.
Ash chuckles, drawling, "Oh, there's wolves in the woods. And big'uns, too. But, you don't much see 'em, 'cept around the full moon. Near new moon now, so it's probably fine. Just... y'know... don't go out into the woods alone, y'dig?" They give Bear a smirk, enjoying the moment. "And if you think I'm joking... well, you'll find that no bear can beat a pack of wolves. Or even just one, if it's a *Haven* wolf." They start to go on about just how terrifying these wolves are, but then, business time approaches. This is a side of themself that they show often, as they move to start placing their burgers and juice bottles on the clearest, cleanest flat surface... comparatively.
Bear nods simply, his focus shifting to the Longhouse as the lack of people becomes evident. His callused fingers dig a little into the box he carries, tension in his body. The quiet clearly has the man on edge, "Yeah, that real interestin'..."
Ash glances around before explaining, "Honestly, I should have brought more bandages, after the riot. Can you believe that people actually attacked the homeless? Like, I get being upset about losing out on your shit, costs way too much to replace a TV or whatever. But, no... they were upset about the people committing crimes... and didn't give a fuck why." They sigh, filling the silence perhaps as much as Baxter would, but with information at least. And in doing so, allows those hearing to understand that they're an ally. "It was immediately obvious to me - give people what they *need* to survive, they'll stop bothering you. Fucking math."
they keep doing worth, carefully maintaining a volume that can echo through the halls to be heard, without being obnoxiously loud to those around them. A balance as they continue to set out more... and more... and more food. So much food, and drink. All in Rosie's wrappers, though they pull out a sticker roll from their Sloth bag, with TMDG written in red Chiller font over a forest green backpack, tacking them on top of each wrapper.
Coupled with the more tantalizing offers from TMDG, which are surely to be more sought after... it will, ideally, set The Most Dangerous Game as the place that gives them what they *want*, while Rosie's gives them what they *need*. Teamwork makes the dream work, yeah?
Ash glances around before explaining, "Honestly, I should have brought more bandages, after the riot. Can you believe that people actually attacked the homeless? Like, I get being upset about losing out on your shit, costs way too much to replace a TV or whatever. But, no... they were upset about the people committing crimes... and didn't give a fuck why." They sigh, filling the silence perhaps as much as Baxter would, but with information at least. And in doing so, allows those hearing to understand that they're an ally. "It was immediately obvious to me - give people what they *need* to survive, they'll stop bothering you. Fucking math."
They keep working, while, carefully maintaining a volume that can echo through the halls to be heard, without being obnoxiously loud to those around them. A balance as they continue to set out more... and more... and more food. So much food, and drink. All in Rosie's wrappers, though they pull out a sticker roll from their Sloth bag, with TMDG written in red Chiller font over a forest green backpack, tacking them on top of each wrapper.
Coupled with the more tantalizing offers from TMDG, which are surely to be more sought after... it will, ideally, set The Most Dangerous Game as the place that gives them what they *want*, while Rosie's gives them what they *need*. Teamwork makes the dream work, yeah? (fix)
Well, it's nearly midnight. So the most likely answer to Isaiah as they go into the Longhouse is... bed. There's a stirring, a mumbling, a few of the more sleepless or strung-out rising in curious interest. News gets around. Muffled and noises and a few of those - or at least the men and women who share names with that - start to crawl out of the woodwork. Then: Food! Drink! Ah ha! A descending of those. An eye will note their new things. Well, 'new' for them. Instead of rags or things that have been worn hundreds of times without washing, thriftware. Other goods. Recently cleaned. New hygine kits, little plastic boxes with little plastic toothbrushes and toothpaste and soaps and things glinting here and there. Things that your average person takes for granted but are prized and few and far between.
Everyone provides sugary foods, but people forget about tampons, toilets and clean running water. Though there's often enough - the bigger ones, the heavier ones, will definitely approach the boxes to nab more than their fair share. But given how everyone's settling in and the theft is winding down, there might not BE that many people.
"Thanks," "Hey, thanks," the murmured cries come out, people doing their best. Conversation as folks start to wake up again.
Bear puts on his best customer service face, which given his history of employment, isn't a terribly pleasant sight. Still, the large man with the forced smile starts reaching for juice boxes, "Alright, alright! Nice and orderly, lets line up. Anyone not in the line doesn't get the goodies. And one per person, we've gotta' share."
"Hey, some people are just real shit at math no matter how much ya try to help'em out with it!" Baxter reports, perhaps defensively, to Ash, like somewhere along the way he lost the plot of the analogy and is discussing actual arithmetic. He peers at the others as things start getting laid out, and somewhat belated starts to follow along and do the same. He's got a bright smile and cheery chatter for anyone and everyone willing to listen, and those that aren't, too. He's also wearing that godawful 'suit' which was a bit of choice, but he wasn't exactly given much warning, "Hey, enjoy!" he offers up, "Supposed to be some of the best thing ever came out of a kitchen." he further vows. A few enterprising souls are given a knowing wink and a little extra somethin-somethin along with their goodies, little plastic baggies coming seemingly out of the man's sleeves like the worlds scummiest magic trick. He's following the 'just give it good vibes' brands of keeping order, himself.
"Don't take more than your fair share or I'll break your fucking fingers," Isaiah warns several of the burlier young bucks who try to push their way to the front, and she snaps her fingers together quickly. "Bear- Bear!" she calls to Bear, grabbing one middle-aged newcomer by the scruff of his neck and tearing him backwards when he grabs more than one pulled pork sandwich. "Put it back," she spits out towards him vehemently, rathering he get the message and put the sandwich back unharmed, rather than it being wrestled from his hands and shredded. Notably, some of the older folks and teens who have been homeless for longer aren't given the same treatment- and those who approach her requesting drugs, especially so, might get a double-serving of coleslaw, mac 'n' cheese, hush puppies, or black-eyed pea salad. She seems pleased, however, when Bear pipes up without even having to be asked, her call to him wasted, but still, she is happy nonetheless.
"So, what the fuck is this I hear about a riot?" she asks a early-twenties tweaker, holding his attention hostage with the promise of free drugs as she spins an ugly black pill between her fingertips. "What happened, Tommy?"
Thankfully, before anyone can swipe six bags and yoink one of Ash's whole boxes to themselves, Bear is there to be noisy, loud, and in the way, and keep their misbehaviors to a minimum. Like any group: There's only a few bad apples, but they can make everyone behave worse or start a riot without the extra security. Some of them are sporting limps, or leaning against others to get up to the front. Technically that's two people side-by-side in a line... and there's a lot of new burns, new bruises, new limps. Apparently the recent events are not without their trial and tribulations.
Some of them are more excited about someone' tricks than others, scuttling off and opting for those more than the food, or their new kits ending up neatly in backpack.
And the newcomer, a younger fellow, an underage teen by the look of it. Recently homeless. Stronger. Trying to take everything and then promptly dropping the food.
Tommy - a man missing an eye and a few teeth missing, and looks like he's in his thirties despite his actual age - remarks back with a sniff, "It's just - some fucking bullshit. Some assholes went after the Community Center and... Meinos, I think?" He asks this question of the rest of the group. There's mostly murmured agreement. His good eye remains fixed on the pill. "Just started roughing people up and yeling shit! We got outta there, at least. In one piece."
Thankfully, before anyone can swipe six bags and yoink one of Ash's whole boxes to themselves, Bear is there to be noisy, loud, and in the way, and keep their misbehaviors to a minimum. Like any group: There's only a few bad apples, but they can make everyone behave worse or start a riot without the extra security. Some of them are sporting limps, or leaning against others to get up to the front. Technically that's two people side-by-side in a line... and there's a lot of new burns, new bruises, new limps. Apparently the recent events are not without their trial and tribulations.
Some of them are more excited about Baxter's tricks than others, scuttling off and opting for those more than the food, or their new kits ending up neatly in backpack.
And the newcomer, a younger fellow, an underage teen by the look of it. Recently homeless. Stronger. Trying to take everything and then promptly dropping the food.
Tommy - a man missing an eye and a few teeth missing, and looks like he's in his thirties despite his actual age - remarks back with a sniff, "It's just - some fucking bullshit. Some assholes went after the Community Center and... Meinos, I think?" He asks this question of the rest of the group. There's mostly murmured agreement. His good eye remains fixed on the pill. "Just started roughing people up and yeling shit! We got outta there, at least. In one piece."
Ash looks over them carefully, pulling out their bandages and triage supplies. Being aware of what happened earlier, they announce, "Hey, if y'all were fucked up by those assholes who came to Great News, I've got great news! Got my kit here to fix a few of you up, so line up here, and I'll get you sorted until I'm out of supplies. So, worst cases get priority."
They set up with their supplies, at least having the medical skill to offer them what they need at the moment, but not having a lot of supplies - it's mostly just the kit they take for hunts or nightmare battles. So, Ash decides, "I can take 5 people really injured, then I might have some left over." They have 7 bandages total, but can run to grab a couple of more, and figure that some people might need more than one.
Bear makes swift movements, his attention grabbed by Isaiah calling his name, and his body moving the instant her fingers snap, surprisingly quick for his size (if not particularly graceful). He makes no move to do anything but stare down the brash among the crowd, stepping in between them. His presence does the work for him, and his orders were clear, the man clearly more skilled at playing guard dog than faking smiles for crowds.
Ash glances at a bat that comes fluttering in, but seems used to it. They wave a hand, shooing it out, before going back to work, hardly even blinking.
Savannah, engaging with Ivy, discusses her intrigue in participating more actively in the center's roles, offering her contact for further communication. As they navigate their way around the community center's activities, Savannah finds herself amidst discussions on the impact of Novel Norman's actions on the local homeless population, with accusations of him exploiting the vulnerable for financial gain. The narrative shifts focus towards the communal effort to address the root causes of heightened thefts, leading to a brainstorming session on how to alleviate the underlying issues without resorting to punitive measures. Amidst these discussions, personal interactions hint at broader themes of community, sacrifice, and the pursuit of a balanced solution that benefits all, particularly the homeless who’ve found themselves unwittingly better off due to questionable schemes. As conversations unfold, the importance of empathy, understanding, and direct action comes to the forefront, underscoring the complex interplay between individual needs and community welfare.
(Savannah's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Wed Sep 25 2024]
In the busy foyer of Great News Community Center
The community center's foyer has a gritty, lived-in feel. Harried volunteers weave through a mix of individuals, some bearing the weight of hard-lived stories on their way to addiction counseling. The aroma from the soup kitchen mingles with a sense of desperation and hope, while a small chapel to the north offers a quiet corner of solace, its doors open to all. Nearby, the religious bookstore stands as a beacon of faith amidst the tangible air of struggle.
Mounted prominently on the wall opposite the entrance is a large cross, along with a slogan: Jesus didn't just give good news, he gave GREAT NEWS!
Aside from it, on the wall next to the entrance to the chapel, a large painting of Saint George engaged in a heavenly battle with a ferocious, massive red dragon dominates the wall, a poignant symbol of the ever-present battle against addiction.
Signs give directions to parts of the community center:
(North) Chapel
(East) Soup Kitchen & Multi-Purpose Room
(South) Bookstore & Gifts
The southeastern wall bears a decorative mural of Jacob observing the ladder to Heaven.
It is afternoon, about 71F(21C) degrees,
"That actually sounds pretty amazing. I might dabble a little bit myself," Savannah says to Ivy as she smiles over at the other woman, "We should talk about it sometime, but I think I'll take a look, maybe see if I can reach out to someone about this Novel situation." She gives a little wave towards some of those gathered and says, "I need to keep on the patrol though, but my number is..."
"7107191 if anyone wants to reach out, sometimes it is easier to text about things than call the station," Savannah offers up.
Magnus nods, "My number is 710-7272 if anyone requires it. I am ever available for Handyman services, heavy lifting, and security."
Gathered in the foyer of the Great News community center, Ritsuka had assembled Viktorin, Illyana, Brian, Magnus and Ivy. Conveniently enough, as they were deciding on what course to take, Savannah entered, and unfortunately for the poor deputy, found herself being lambasted by accusations that Novel Norman, (that deviant) was cause for all of the finance issues in Haven with his abuse of the homeless population. Thankfully however, Ritsuka likewise has it in hand, leading the party.
After that, Savannah begins to meander on towards the doorway to the community center once more, waving, "Remember, text if you all need something, going to go reach out to a few people."
Ritsuka looks down to her phone and enters something on her phone, and then makes a nod to Savannah "I wish you well, Savanna." She says, making a light bow again. "Bai-bai" She says very casually after that and then glances around the community center, telling the others "I think it is time that we look at the situation. And maybe we can fix it. And then we can figure out about any dirty guilty person later. Let us go and ask some of the people here?"
And so people have gathered. The homeless are discontent. Sure, there are lines 'pon lines of them, streaming here and there, but it's not like the disaffected, or the tired, or the hungry, receiving their dolloped meals of soup or curry to keep them functioning throughout the day. There's a strange focus. An intensity. There's more of them. Murmurs, talking. Elsewhere throughout the last few days in the wake of the flooding nothing has been untouched: Nobody has been assault, but unattended bags, shipping containers, groceries, disappearing and vanishing. Squads of disaffected moving around and running - leaving things when actually confronted. It's still going on, of course, hitting people's purses and depressing wages by the sheer amount of content taken.
In one case someone's dog was stolen. A lovely purebreed. They're valuable, after all.
But here: There is none of that. A safe haven... but they talk amongst themselves. Moving around. The scruffy, unwashed or wearing sanitizer or using dry soaps to help keep themselves. Scraps and clothing. But...
The homeless don't seem abused. In fact, many of them are wearing things. New shoes. New pants. New shirts. Little plastic containers hard instead of plastic bags with toiletries in them. Here, though, there's only the steady flow of food to the homeless, despite the new apparent wealth.
"So, this is a problem. It's a problem for all of us, and for a lot of folks in town. But... is it a problem for the homeless people that seem to be benefiting?" he shrugs. "I want it to stop, but to tell them collectively, 'stop doing something that's been good for you'... might not go over well." Brian says, with a look around to those gathered.
Ivy looked around, it seemed like guilty conscience was getting to her. "I don't know." She comments to Brian. "I mean, they've been doing better than ever it seems, and I'd love for them to be happy like that, s'almost like I can feel them happy and wanting those things." The girl scratches the back of her head. "Perhaps we can make a compromise that benefits them while not harming the rest of us either? A middle ground of sorts?"
Brian nods. "That would be the ideal, sure. So... anyone have thoughts on what to do? It would be nice to say we should just give them all jobs, but... that might not be feasible, and some of them might not want jobs, because we'd be asking them to put in honest work for what they now get with little effort." he says.
"Theft is still theft. It's against the laws of every single country with established foundations- Which is likely why Novel inspired it." Illyana bluntly states. "I understand where you're comingfrom, but this is bigger than a few bucks and a new set of clothes. There are a lot of people depending on their wages, their buffer, their little extra; The thing is, if it was handled as a drive, it would be different, but this is mass thieving." Hands on hips, Illyana stares at Brian. "I appreciate where you're coming from, I really do. But good intentions or not, this is not okay."
Viktorin folds his hands behind his back as he cocks an eyebrow, gracefully gliding betwixt the crowd as he notes each fresh item being worn. Then he wonders aloud, "What be the price of things that one would tarnish their soul?"
"You mean the goodies they will need to share because there will be more homeless people at the rate this is going? And less donations because people just don't have the money to donate and then they will be hungry and might need to sell the items and lose them anyway," Ritsuka asks, glancing back to Brian, pursing her lips, thought she nods to Ivy. "It's never black and white. And we're not here to take from them, but everything is fleeting. So will this seeming joy, and the only one benefitting from all of this is the perpetrator, because he has a job and made more from this."
"Ritsuka's right." Illyana agrees with Ritsuka as she watches Viktorin walking through the croud. Standing with Ivy off to one side, she too regards the gathering with what might be preternatural observance.
Standing up to his full height from leaning against the wall, Magnus gives a nod as he listens to the others discuss the situation, offering, "Things cannot just be taken from people. Let us engage with them and find out what they require." he reaches down to grasp one of the homeless by the shoulder and leans down to speak with him, "Hello, sir. I notice you have some new clothes, where would I find myself some like that? I'm down on my luck and would perhaps like to join your group here." he mentions as he gets in line to get some food.
"I'm just trying to talk things out and see it clearly, not defending their actions, or his. I think it needs to stop, period. But... I'd like to find a way to make that happen that causes the least trouble for the fewest people, and maybe improves the overall situation for the homeless people. I'm just not sure exactly what that is." Brian says. "I also kind of want to kick Novel in the nuts. But... that also doesn't solve things."
Ivy says "We can also just solve the thing and THEN kick Novel in the nuts. Sounds like a win-win, no?"
"You're not kicking anyone in the nuts." Illyana tells Ivy. "He's far stronger than you are and you'd get hurt. A couple people here likely would." There's a pointed look to the others, speaking crypticly as she lacks the intel on Viktorin and Magnus in specific, but a slight nod to Brian and Ritsuka.
Ritsuka smiles a sweeter note to Brian and nods. "That is the goal. So let us go on and try figure this out." And so, she takes a few steps away from Brian, glances around and looks for someone that is just sitting aside. Someone that looks to be in the middle, between the ones with new items and the ones that still struggle, people that look more grim than others, people that have a conscience.
Ivy lifts her hand. "Jesus liked to help the poor and constantly argued for the support of them so that all of them can be uplifted and live their life fully." She explains to Illyana. "So I feel like, if I have to draw from wisdom on how to solve this." She brings a hand to her chin. "We should probably tell them that stealing is wrong but help them regardless in a way that isn't theft." She furhter elaborates.
She softly sighs. "Right, right... Sorry, getting too ahead of myself." She murmurs to Illyana softly, following her closely.
"Once more," Viktorin raises his voice, growling to those surrounding him, "What is the price of your efforts, compared to the new baubles you foist, that which may all but disappear tomorrow? Is it worth the suffering of your fellow man to elevate yourself whilst yanking him down? Have you elevated yourself in a manner worthwhile to earn his ire, that which you take? What of those who benefit more than you from your actions, who shall allow you to suffer more from your acts so that they may sate their own desires of drugs and items, safely tucked away in a safe place above you? Tell me, are your acts worth the consequeunces of tomorrow?"
Illyana looks to Ritsuka. Looking as though she has her own way to manage this involving a flame thrower and or the police (which ever comes first), she navigates the hall beside Ritsuka, Ivy in toe, glancing to check on her from time to time. There's some mild interest at what Viktorin is doing, but she largely leaves the man to his business, trusting that he has something in mind.
Illyana seems to be listening as she walks, nostrels flaring as she observes the room for anything out of place or overly obvious.
Illyana takes her study - it seems the rich, the beautiful, the obviously powerful that exhibits from the group standing around and chatting who do not at all mesh with anyone here in the Community Center - not even those equally tired people who are nevertheless doing their best to put on bright smiles and help said homeless people - are avoided. A wide berth. Something weird. There's a tremor in the crowd as a particular man keeps getting mentioned. A slow gathering - and then an emptying. Though, honestly, some of them linger to listen to Viktorin. But, it's mostly brushed off.
The spindly looking person that Magnus grabs is pale, wan, and has the distinct marks on the neck of someone from needle injections - and vampire bites. They give a darting look over Magnus's form before there's the immediate glare of suspicion mingled with the desperate cowardice of a cornered rat scrunching up into themselves as their hands shake. The discontent in the homeless crowd raises. There's muttering, when they're just trying to get to get their meals, and a wave of hostility comes with it. The dancing of desires and suffering and focuses starting to revolve around Magnus, and none of it good. They scrunch down in his grip and sort of tuck themselves in, their lips sealing shut.
"I'm not sure manhandling them is going to work." Brian offers, looking over at Magnus. "Look, I'm nineteen years old. I'm not rich, I'm not established. Sure, I'm fine. I have a warm place to sleep, and food when I need it. But I pay for those things, and I work for the money that lets me do so. I give when I can, to places like this. My Eagle project was to help build a new wing on a shelter back home, specifically for pregnant women. I am happy to put my time, my efforts, my limited talents... and what money I believe I can spare, to help people who are less fortunate. But to have my money stolen away from me... honestly makes me less inclined to help. Not just the thieves, but the people in the middle who need the help but haven't done anything wrong." As he says this, he raises his voice a bit, trying to make sure some of the homeless here for food and drink hear him, too.
"Mmmhmm." Magnus murmurs as he looks around himself and readies to get his meal as well, the simple tank top and rugged jeans he's wearing aren't too high class for the folks he's dealing with, but he narrows his eyes and murmurs lowly to the homeless around him, "Easy there, buds. I mean you no harm, but I am not one to back down from a battle. Let us all eat and drink together and be merry, or to battle if you must."
Moving closer to Ritsuka, Illyana informs her of what she can hear with preternatural senses; The homeless who have scents too clean, the far too new clothing, the snatches of conversation and locations- By the forest, the sewer, the abandoned warehouses. There's a man being namedropped frequently- That too is conveyed, and the same to each of the others in turn, moving through the gathering sanse Magnus to tell Ivy, Viktorin, and Brian. Then of course, she returns to Ritsuka, waiting to see what she wishes to do, though her attention is inexorably drawn to the man with vampire bites being collared by Magnus. She seems very pleased with that in fact, enjoying that manhandling if her wrapped gaze is anything to go bye, though she is at least attempting, if only partially successful, to keep that from her expression.
Ivy stopped to look off into the crowd sometime, getting distracted by things that appeared to not be seen normally, but every once in a while that Illyana checked up on her, she hurried up to be by her side. "How do you usually deal with unhappy customers, if you ever do, hun? Maybe some of that knowledge could be used to prevent this from going, well, ballistic..."
"I don't." Illyana tells Ivy with a grin. "That's what I employ people to do for me."
Louder does Viktorin's voice raise, as it's clear the intention. The stoking of a fire. "Tell me," Viktorin wonders, "Did Novel Norman, who has set thieves upon the apathetic, and I shall not argue against their apathy, did he tell you what may occur to you as he moves to acquire that which you strive for?" Pausing the Czech ignites fury in his voice. "Tell me, will that man even endeavor to protect you, as a man of honor may, once politics move against you? When the police begin cracking down on the impoverished and meek? He will be safe, I tell you, because he is not in your position. But when the thefts create further attention, do you truly think you shall escape unscathed? And furthermore, do you think your shirts, shoes, and other articles, that which could've been given to you without theft by the very man who has set you to illict tasks. To manipulate you for his own fortune. Do you think it truly worth the inevitable and tragic boot that may stomp upon you? He uses you as a pawn in his war against the classes. To ignite class warfare without any true intention to protect you. To care for you."
Ritsuka breathes calmly through her nose, and she listens to Illyana, though she does come to a stop while Illyana is letting the others know and instead focuses on someone she knows is sick. "You don't look so very well, I think you have the flu, you should visit the pharmacy across the street later, they can help you with some medicine, if you don't have the money, don't worry, I'll have them be prepared to help, we can't always but there was a flood recently, so they will get you sorted. Please (treat the staff nicely)." She smiles, a note sweet.
When Illyana returns, and Viktorin continues his speech, she still smiles a little, but then rises to her feet and turns to Illyana, talking very discretely, in a whisper: "Let's single one of them out and corner that person."
Some of them pause to listen to Brian, the discontent changing in subtle tone - an effect of appealing to the humanitarian motion of man, even the lowest of the low, who's minds have been bent and twisted in so many ways. Not just by raw drugs and their own quirks of birth but also by other lifestyles. "Let me go," There's a squirming of the person Magnus still holds, gripping to - admittedly ineffectively - trying to pry his fingers apart. A breath. And then the crowd breaks with someone shouting to Viktorin, "Fuck you," Someone calls out in the crowd, in the mass of bodies. What a very novel and clever answer, "You don't even try." "Yeah! Go back to being stomped on? Go fuck yourself!" "You're probably HAND." Someone else calls out. And then the riot starts. Sanctuary protects from property damage, the stabbing and true injuries, as Viktorin monologues about class warfare and pawns while standing in the middle of a homeless shelter the same man he's accusing about, works out and regularly helps hand out food.
Well, he gets what he wanted. A swarm - rats. Rats with pelts and furs cleaned for the moment, perhaps, but still rats, descending on ... Magnus. The lady in attendant, the worker here, disappears - presumably to rush to the kitchen and call the police. The injured, the limping Ritsuka signals out - well, it's a bit late for that.
Most of the crowd are human. Some of them aren't. And then - more start pressing in.
Sadly, Ritsuka's target - limping and ill as they are - is getting drawn into the fervor. The persuasion presses in, sinking, but there's a certain amount of angry intensity in the crowd of the depressed, depraved, diseased, and dysfunctional disaffected.
Ivy once again continues to stare off into nowhere in particular. She wasn't the best at social situations, and crowds utterly terrified the girl. It seems that just before the whole thing comes crashing down, she touches to warn Illyana, yet just as she explains what's about to go down - it happens. Lucky foresight, maybe? "We should break up the fight somehow, I don't want more people getting hurt." She murmurs softly. "What do you think?"
"I have pepper spray, but I'd really prefer not to use it..." Brian says. "But if it's that or more of these folks getting hurt..." He looks undecided, but places one hand in his pocket.
Releasing the man, Magnus begins to stomp and kick the swarm beneath his feat, growling as he clears some space around himself, making sure that the homeless or his compatriots don't get hurt. Cussing up a storm in both modern and ancient languages, the massive man is using his hiking boots to clear the ground as his massive mitts sweep swaths of rat swarm and he yeets them out the door, trying to clear out the pests and de-escalate.
Ritsuka glances back just in time as the crowd starts to rile up, and with a quick tone, she tells Illyana "I'm going to go after the staffer, Yana." And so she does, rather than try to get into the scuffle, she looks to circle around, pushing, if someone gets into her way and with as little need for violence as possible, out of the way to go through, and follow the departing staffer into the backroom, not just to stop any police calls, but to interrogate. Magnus ending up as a sort of distraction. She for her own is thin, does not take up much space, so perhaps the most suited to pass on by. She does sigh at the roar of sudden violence and shakes her head, disapproving.
Illyana with angelborn speed bodily blocks Ritsuka, thrusting her back from the stampede with someone in the fore, being sure to keep Ritsuka and Ivy behind her. There's nothing visible (yet), but Illyana looks ready to either bolt or fight- She knows her job here and it's not face kicking humans, but protection detail. Assuming Brian and Viktorin are able to take care of themselves (Ritsuka called on them after all), she lets them fend for themselves. After all, Magnus is huge. He is likely able to pluck them free if it comes to that.
Illyana with angelborn speed bodily blocks Ritsuka, thrusting her back from the stampede with Illyana in the fore, being sure to keep Ritsuka and Ivy behind her. There's nothing visible (yet), but Illyana looks ready to either bolt or fight- She knows her job here and it's not face kicking humans, but protection detail. Assuming Brian and Viktorin are able to take care of themselves (Ritsuka called on them after all), she lets them fend for themselves. After all, Magnus is huge. He is likely able to pluck them free if it comes to that.
Having finished typing long after Ritsuka decided that steps to one side, letting Ritsuka go after the staffer. Illyana is likely faster, but that's unimportant here. Illyana has her task to do and it's still protection. So she keeps back with Ivy as Ritsuka runs, ready to (very literally) jump in if needed.
Brian pulls out his can of pepper spray, keeping it low, as he begins to shout. "Stop. Stop it please! We came here to figure out how to help all of you! Please, let us do that!" He tries to help whoever he can, pulling people behind him so they don't get crushed. "Please, let's talk this out! We don't want anyone to get hurt!" That said, he is ready to apply the spray judiciously if neeeded, because it's less harmful than bullets and blades.
Bear peers about, taking in the streets, "Shit, they don't even do the bear minimum here. These potholes are everywhere."
Ash nods to Bear, drawling, "It's a trailer park, no one cares about them. Which is why it's perfect, honestly. A community that understands your needs that shares what it has with you." And then... they frown. They squint at Bear. Then they ask, voice low... "Did you just make a fucking pun?"
Baxter snorts a little as he loads up from the car, "'bear' minimum..." he snickers out as he piles himself up with boxes.
"I do more than flutter my eyelashes," Isaiah says to Baxter as he and Bear pull up in front of the Longhouse, her lips pulling a little tight as she walks over to him, though she makes no attempt at taking the boxes from either men. She simply stands on her toes and presses a kiss against each guy's left cheek, just below the eye. "I do that too," she preens, then turns, walking towards the homeless breeding ground with her lackies in tow- pausing to make sure Ash is doing well enough on their own with exactly one million juice boxes in their hands. "C'mon, most of them are either shooting up or in bed right now. Time to flip on the lights and do a wakeup call," the Queen of Devilwood announces, already striding past the group and into the building with a swish and sway of scantily-clad hips. "Remember, offer assistance but continue the fucking cycle. We're not giving out free candy," she mutters under her breath, just loud enough for her compatriots to hear.
Bear smirks, peering sidelong at Ash, "Did you just advocate communism?"
Bear nods firmly towards Isaiah, gaze focusing as he's given an order, "Got it, Boss." He walks with his box and absurd tower of juice boxes a little straighter.
The streets are... quiet. It's later in the day, it's dark, and there was a recent hubbub. Most of the homeless population has gone to ground, and there's a stillness to it. And part of it is rebuilding. Those spaces that were once flooded are now empty, and while not dry, are usable once more. So there's silent work going in the background. A rustling. The amount of thefts are tapering off: The violence, the abuse. Things are going missing here and there, but... it's almost all over, the problem ignored until it stopped being a problem.
There's little malice in the heart of the disaffected. Survival was the higher priority and police and people have been pushing back (occasionally violently). Especially with the recent scene in The Great News Community Center.
Where, exactly, is this little group going? Which building?
"Ah fuck they're already doin the politics thing." Baxter whines as he tromps after Isaiah, hurrying now to try and leave Ash and Bear behind, "God save us, let's get these folks patted on the head and tucked in with juicies before they get to Anarchism." he babbles, "Hell of a fuckin word, though, anarchism..." he muses, to himself, but aloud, "Rolls off the tongue real nice. Fuck listenin to people talk about it, though.".
Ash laughs, drawling, "Oh, I love you, Jayarr. And no, Bear." Their voice drops a bit lower for the sake of subtlety. "That would suggest that there's no ulterior motive - that's what we want them to think and feel, not necessarily what's actually happening." They manage their 75 various food and drink products with more grace than one would expect for the wiry little elf, but they don't hide that they are having a hard time. To Baxter, they speak louder, saying, "I hear you've got a big dick, Bax. Big enough to fuck yourself?" They grin, moving forward quickly, heading into the Longhouse with everyone else.
Ash laughs, drawling, "Oh, I love you, Jayarr. And no, Bear." Their voice drops a bit lower for the sake of subtlety. "That would suggest that there's no ulterior motive - that's what we want them to think and feel, not necessarily what's actually happening." They manage their 75 various food and drink products with more grace than one would expect for the wiry little elf, but they don't hide that they are having a hard time. To Baxter, they speak louder, saying, "I hear you've got a big dick, Bax. Big enough to fuck yourself?" They grin, moving forward quickly, heading into the Longhouse with everyone else. (repost for Bear)
Bear sighs softly as he moves forward, sticking close to the rest of the group, "Don't think I've met a man who loves the sound of his voice more than Bax."
Bear perks a brow at the sound of wolf howling, peering about, "They uhh... fightin' dogs down here? Not sure I'm paid enough to stab a bunch of pit bulls."
Isaiah listens idly to the banter behind her, but for now she doesn't engage: she's steeled herself, a side less-shown to the public, let alone most of her allies. She's in business mode, and she pushes open the door that leads into the Longhouse rather gently, pausing in the main entrance and taking it upon herself to flip the switch on every light in the building, a mass collection of them right by the door swatted all at once, flooding the space with luminescence. "Curtis, Bob, Walter, Phil, Charles, George! Everyone else! Feeding time!" she calls out, her voice loud but at the same time soft and feminine. This is her kingdom; these are her people. She knows most of these sad fucks by name, and those she doesn't, she has made up names for. She's dealt drugs here as often as she's administered Narcan- dead addicts can't spend money, after all. "Special delivery, courtesy of The Most Dangerous Game and Rosie's!!" she calls out a bit louder, then frowns. "Where the fuck is everybody?"
Isaiah adds on to Bear afterwards, saying, "Not Pit Bulls. Wolves. So long as you stay in town and out of the woods, you'll be alright," she purrs, seeming far less afraid of the beasties than should be realistic for a woman of her size.
"The sound of my voice is great." Baxter assures Bear. It's really not. It's a heaping helping of west-coast mixed with some wayward dash of italian, it's an abomination, an affront to accents everywhere, "And, I mean, I bet I could." he reasons to Ash, "But I'd have to find the -time- and it's usually busy other places." he chatters happily along. He snorts a little at Bear, "Doesn't even know about the wolves and he wants to throw shade..." he half-scoffs, half-teases. He pauses when Isaiah's ringing the dinner bell, though, glancing around.
Ash chuckles, drawling, "Oh, there's wolves in the woods. And big'uns, too. But, you don't much see 'em, 'cept around the full moon. Near new moon now, so it's probably fine. Just... y'know... don't go out into the woods alone, y'dig?" They give Bear a smirk, enjoying the moment. "And if you think I'm joking... well, you'll find that no bear can beat a pack of wolves. Or even just one, if it's a *Haven* wolf." They start to go on about just how terrifying these wolves are, but then, business time approaches. This is a side of themself that they show often, as they move to start placing their burgers and juice bottles on the clearest, cleanest flat surface... comparatively.
Bear nods simply, his focus shifting to the Longhouse as the lack of people becomes evident. His callused fingers dig a little into the box he carries, tension in his body. The quiet clearly has the man on edge, "Yeah, that real interestin'..."
Ash glances around before explaining, "Honestly, I should have brought more bandages, after the riot. Can you believe that people actually attacked the homeless? Like, I get being upset about losing out on your shit, costs way too much to replace a TV or whatever. But, no... they were upset about the people committing crimes... and didn't give a fuck why." They sigh, filling the silence perhaps as much as Baxter would, but with information at least. And in doing so, allows those hearing to understand that they're an ally. "It was immediately obvious to me - give people what they *need* to survive, they'll stop bothering you. Fucking math."
they keep doing worth, carefully maintaining a volume that can echo through the halls to be heard, without being obnoxiously loud to those around them. A balance as they continue to set out more... and more... and more food. So much food, and drink. All in Rosie's wrappers, though they pull out a sticker roll from their Sloth bag, with TMDG written in red Chiller font over a forest green backpack, tacking them on top of each wrapper.
Coupled with the more tantalizing offers from TMDG, which are surely to be more sought after... it will, ideally, set The Most Dangerous Game as the place that gives them what they *want*, while Rosie's gives them what they *need*. Teamwork makes the dream work, yeah?
Ash glances around before explaining, "Honestly, I should have brought more bandages, after the riot. Can you believe that people actually attacked the homeless? Like, I get being upset about losing out on your shit, costs way too much to replace a TV or whatever. But, no... they were upset about the people committing crimes... and didn't give a fuck why." They sigh, filling the silence perhaps as much as Baxter would, but with information at least. And in doing so, allows those hearing to understand that they're an ally. "It was immediately obvious to me - give people what they *need* to survive, they'll stop bothering you. Fucking math."
They keep working, while, carefully maintaining a volume that can echo through the halls to be heard, without being obnoxiously loud to those around them. A balance as they continue to set out more... and more... and more food. So much food, and drink. All in Rosie's wrappers, though they pull out a sticker roll from their Sloth bag, with TMDG written in red Chiller font over a forest green backpack, tacking them on top of each wrapper.
Coupled with the more tantalizing offers from TMDG, which are surely to be more sought after... it will, ideally, set The Most Dangerous Game as the place that gives them what they *want*, while Rosie's gives them what they *need*. Teamwork makes the dream work, yeah? (fix)
Well, it's nearly midnight. So the most likely answer to Isaiah as they go into the Longhouse is... bed. There's a stirring, a mumbling, a few of the more sleepless or strung-out rising in curious interest. News gets around. Muffled and noises and a few of those - or at least the men and women who share names with that - start to crawl out of the woodwork. Then: Food! Drink! Ah ha! A descending of those. An eye will note their new things. Well, 'new' for them. Instead of rags or things that have been worn hundreds of times without washing, thriftware. Other goods. Recently cleaned. New hygine kits, little plastic boxes with little plastic toothbrushes and toothpaste and soaps and things glinting here and there. Things that your average person takes for granted but are prized and few and far between.
Everyone provides sugary foods, but people forget about tampons, toilets and clean running water. Though there's often enough - the bigger ones, the heavier ones, will definitely approach the boxes to nab more than their fair share. But given how everyone's settling in and the theft is winding down, there might not BE that many people.
"Thanks," "Hey, thanks," the murmured cries come out, people doing their best. Conversation as folks start to wake up again.
Bear puts on his best customer service face, which given his history of employment, isn't a terribly pleasant sight. Still, the large man with the forced smile starts reaching for juice boxes, "Alright, alright! Nice and orderly, lets line up. Anyone not in the line doesn't get the goodies. And one per person, we've gotta' share."
"Hey, some people are just real shit at math no matter how much ya try to help'em out with it!" Baxter reports, perhaps defensively, to Ash, like somewhere along the way he lost the plot of the analogy and is discussing actual arithmetic. He peers at the others as things start getting laid out, and somewhat belated starts to follow along and do the same. He's got a bright smile and cheery chatter for anyone and everyone willing to listen, and those that aren't, too. He's also wearing that godawful 'suit' which was a bit of choice, but he wasn't exactly given much warning, "Hey, enjoy!" he offers up, "Supposed to be some of the best thing ever came out of a kitchen." he further vows. A few enterprising souls are given a knowing wink and a little extra somethin-somethin along with their goodies, little plastic baggies coming seemingly out of the man's sleeves like the worlds scummiest magic trick. He's following the 'just give it good vibes' brands of keeping order, himself.
"Don't take more than your fair share or I'll break your fucking fingers," Isaiah warns several of the burlier young bucks who try to push their way to the front, and she snaps her fingers together quickly. "Bear- Bear!" she calls to Bear, grabbing one middle-aged newcomer by the scruff of his neck and tearing him backwards when he grabs more than one pulled pork sandwich. "Put it back," she spits out towards him vehemently, rathering he get the message and put the sandwich back unharmed, rather than it being wrestled from his hands and shredded. Notably, some of the older folks and teens who have been homeless for longer aren't given the same treatment- and those who approach her requesting drugs, especially so, might get a double-serving of coleslaw, mac 'n' cheese, hush puppies, or black-eyed pea salad. She seems pleased, however, when Bear pipes up without even having to be asked, her call to him wasted, but still, she is happy nonetheless.
"So, what the fuck is this I hear about a riot?" she asks a early-twenties tweaker, holding his attention hostage with the promise of free drugs as she spins an ugly black pill between her fingertips. "What happened, Tommy?"
Thankfully, before anyone can swipe six bags and yoink one of Ash's whole boxes to themselves, Bear is there to be noisy, loud, and in the way, and keep their misbehaviors to a minimum. Like any group: There's only a few bad apples, but they can make everyone behave worse or start a riot without the extra security. Some of them are sporting limps, or leaning against others to get up to the front. Technically that's two people side-by-side in a line... and there's a lot of new burns, new bruises, new limps. Apparently the recent events are not without their trial and tribulations.
Some of them are more excited about someone' tricks than others, scuttling off and opting for those more than the food, or their new kits ending up neatly in backpack.
And the newcomer, a younger fellow, an underage teen by the look of it. Recently homeless. Stronger. Trying to take everything and then promptly dropping the food.
Tommy - a man missing an eye and a few teeth missing, and looks like he's in his thirties despite his actual age - remarks back with a sniff, "It's just - some fucking bullshit. Some assholes went after the Community Center and... Meinos, I think?" He asks this question of the rest of the group. There's mostly murmured agreement. His good eye remains fixed on the pill. "Just started roughing people up and yeling shit! We got outta there, at least. In one piece."
Thankfully, before anyone can swipe six bags and yoink one of Ash's whole boxes to themselves, Bear is there to be noisy, loud, and in the way, and keep their misbehaviors to a minimum. Like any group: There's only a few bad apples, but they can make everyone behave worse or start a riot without the extra security. Some of them are sporting limps, or leaning against others to get up to the front. Technically that's two people side-by-side in a line... and there's a lot of new burns, new bruises, new limps. Apparently the recent events are not without their trial and tribulations.
Some of them are more excited about Baxter's tricks than others, scuttling off and opting for those more than the food, or their new kits ending up neatly in backpack.
And the newcomer, a younger fellow, an underage teen by the look of it. Recently homeless. Stronger. Trying to take everything and then promptly dropping the food.
Tommy - a man missing an eye and a few teeth missing, and looks like he's in his thirties despite his actual age - remarks back with a sniff, "It's just - some fucking bullshit. Some assholes went after the Community Center and... Meinos, I think?" He asks this question of the rest of the group. There's mostly murmured agreement. His good eye remains fixed on the pill. "Just started roughing people up and yeling shit! We got outta there, at least. In one piece."
Ash looks over them carefully, pulling out their bandages and triage supplies. Being aware of what happened earlier, they announce, "Hey, if y'all were fucked up by those assholes who came to Great News, I've got great news! Got my kit here to fix a few of you up, so line up here, and I'll get you sorted until I'm out of supplies. So, worst cases get priority."
They set up with their supplies, at least having the medical skill to offer them what they need at the moment, but not having a lot of supplies - it's mostly just the kit they take for hunts or nightmare battles. So, Ash decides, "I can take 5 people really injured, then I might have some left over." They have 7 bandages total, but can run to grab a couple of more, and figure that some people might need more than one.
Bear makes swift movements, his attention grabbed by Isaiah calling his name, and his body moving the instant her fingers snap, surprisingly quick for his size (if not particularly graceful). He makes no move to do anything but stare down the brash among the crowd, stepping in between them. His presence does the work for him, and his orders were clear, the man clearly more skilled at playing guard dog than faking smiles for crowds.
Ash glances at a bat that comes fluttering in, but seems used to it. They wave a hand, shooing it out, before going back to work, hardly even blinking.