wilderlogs | [Open] Mind the Gap

Entry tags:

[Open] Mind the Gap

Who: Kevin & Anyone
What: Kevin lives his 90s skateboarder dreams
Where: LOVE Park
When: During the Philly camp period
Warnings/Notes: None

[ Kevin's never been to Philadelphia, but even under the ruin of the forest he knows where he is. Once he figured that out, he had to head for LOVE Park.

There are a number of important spots, but the ledges around the empty fountain are a sacred landmark of 90s skateboarding. Skating the gap from the sculpture into the dry bowl is a rite of passage that's been on Kevin's list for years, but back home? That's Sabbat country. You must never go there, Simba. It's not worth getting caught up in a vampire turf war.

Here, though? The only thing in his way is the rough shape the place is in and some plant roots that have luckily missed the all-important fountain gap. He'll take that over pissy vampires any... evening. He supposes it's evening? The sky hasn't changed the whole time they've been here, it's mad spooky.

Kevin wishes he could record himself as he makes the first attempt, and is immediately glad he can't when he misjudges the distance and spills on the landing. He pops back up, grabs the board, and tries again. It takes him to the third time to get his landing right. ]

Hell yeah!

[ Kevin whoops triumph, pumping a fist in the air as he loops back around.

He jumps again. And again. He starts getting fancy, spins and flips in the air. He laughs when he falls, catching himself or rolling through it with endurance the living only wish for. He makes a lot of celebratory noise whenever a daring experiment pans out for him.

He's probably lucky there's nothing in the ruined city that thinks teenaged vampire sounds like a good snack, really. ]

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Better than I was when I was flying off the handle earlier. [Might as well cut straight to the chase: sorry Kevin, he hecked up real bad over what was otherwise a productive conversation about sharing blood around.] Some of us got a little banged up back on the hill.

[It's a bit of an understatement for a battle between three factions that included members of the squad getting stabbed and nearly having their souls sucked out.

Dixon gestures over to the skateboard.] You're, uh. You're pretty good at that.

Looks like it. [ He’s seen some of them are in bad shape. Dixon’s one of the worse ones. ]

I’m not like... pissed or anything still? But no, that still was not cool and if you do it again I’m gonna get all riled.

[ It feels weird to know this given how bad off this guy looks, but Kevin knows himself. He knows that the things Dixon was saying are not okay with him, and even though he tries to keep to his better nature? Some shit just does not fly.

Being complimented makes him pause. He didn’t expect it. ]

Thanks. I got a lot of practice.

[ And despite how weird this line of conversation is, it draws a wary half smile. ]

Something he said just set me off, I guess. I think we're all on edge a little. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you knew I'm sorry for it.

[Dixon's aware he can't make any promises. If there's one facet of intelligence he does alright on, it's self-awareness; he knows himself better than to say it won't happen again. It will. It's like rain; you don't know when it'll happen, but eventually it will, and probably at an inconvenient time that ruins the day for everyone. It's not that he thinks he isn't responsible for his temper, it's that he knows he's responsible and also knows he's too weak-willed to do much about it.

(It doesn't really occur to him that it's less about going the fuck off than about the prejudice for Kevin. It was enough of a shock that it bothered anybody, honestly.)

But as much as Dixon would love to just marinate in a good old-fashioned self-loathing stew, he doesn't want to bog the kid down, and so he sets into the new topic of conversation unhesitatingly.]

They got a skate park where you're from? Where are you from, anyway?

Alright. We're cool.

[ For now, anyway. The thought counts for a lot with Kevin, and it helps that he's really not too impressed with Harper either after all that. The shit they're lining up to do is dangerous and probably awful. They're supposed to work together. They can't afford to rip into each other like that, and Kevin's watched enough long, slow feuds play out that he's not interested in seeing more. ]

New York, man. Yeah, there's a couple. [ There are more than a couple. ]

Skating street is different, though. It's real.

[ He points with his chin up and through other parts of the park. Places people were supposed to use for other things, but repurposed and made something different with a skateboard and the right knowhow. It's a place officially off-limits but all the more prized for it. ]

[He gives Kevin a nod and a fleeting, hesitant half-smile.

He takes a seat on a ledge next to the LOVE sign, because even existing is exhausting today. He's pretty sure they're going to have to pack up and move tomorrow, go out on the hunt for medical supplies that aren't just a half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer under the counter of the Wawa, but he has no idea how he's going to even be able to walk a mile. Even thinking about it makes him want to curl up on the concrete and lay down.

He follows Kevin's gesture, seeing no doors of opportunity opening up with the backs of benches or the handrails like Kevin does, but thinking it is a pretty nice park, that the perpetual twilight of the ruined city is actually lovely. Wildly different from where he's from, but beautiful nonetheless.]

Got a lot of New Yorkers here, I think. [It's not even that he'd hate Kevin if he ran into him back home; it's that Kevin would occupy such a different space in age and interests and region that he wouldn't even really exist to Dixon. There would never have been any reason for them to speak, never any reason to consider Kevin as a whole person instead of just a fact. And now they have to travel together for God knows how long.

It's not a bad thing, it's just a strange thing.]

Skating street, that means when you're doing all this... [he points around at the park] stuff that technically ain't legal?

[ There are a lot of people Kevin doesn't exist to. In some ways, it's his only defense. ]

Do we? [ Kevin hasn't really asked. ] Big city. [ Because clearly that explains it. ]

I... yeah. People don't like skaters. We tear up rails and stuff.

[ He has to admit that. Just because they're his people doesn't make it flawless. ]

I think so. Maybe they're from elsewhere up north. I'm just judging by accents, actually. [There's an uneasiness Dixon says that with, that sense of feeling outnumbered again. Impulse and Kon seem to be from his neck of the woods, and everyone knows Superman's origin, but the Els clearly don't have his back when it comes to the culture wars and he doesn't know where Impulse falls. It makes him want to dig his heels in harder, not out of spite but as a distress signal. Please, it'll radiate off him, back me up here.]

Well, I guess it's not the worst thing you could be doing. I never actually seen anyone get clobbered by a skater, even though that's supposably the number one reason it's illegal. But you should be careful, someone could arrest you.

[Someone.]

Oh, probably. Where you from anyway, man? I ain’t exactly been real far out from the coast before. [ Kevin uses “ain’t” but he hits it differently, short and clipped. ] Going to other cities is a real pain in the ass, there’s all kindsa rules.

I’m not real worried about cops, like... you know, don’t hurt nobody. Run real fast. That’s all you gotta do generally. [ Kevin’s fast. The rest of the group hasn’t had a reason to see that out of him, but he’s inhumanly quick when he needs to be even without burning blood. He doesn’t have much cause to worry. ]

Some guys are real dickheads but anybody can be a dickhead. Mostly skaters just wanna skate.

[ He can’t speak for all of them, you get all kinds in any subculture, but Kevin’s true Scotsman is one who’s there for the same reasons he is. ]

Edited 2018-05-31 17:14 (UTC)

Little town in Missouri you never heard of, I'd bet you money. [By contrast, Dixon's never been to either coast. He went to Academy in Springfield, and it was a trek. He went to Topeka once, and it was an event.

He sometimes thinks it would be nice to see the ocean, just to see what everyone talks about in songs and all, but he figures that's what those nature documentaries on that one channel are for.]

That's true. Cops generally don't run real fast. If you go over where the cruiser don't and you ain't killed nobody most of them'll write you off. [Dixon's let so many skateboarders and vandals get away that way. Then again, so has every other cop in Ebbing. The incompetence of the Ebbing PD was fantastically staggering.] And bloodsucking aside you don't seem to type to kill nobody.

[By which he means, the kid seems sweet and good-natured. Maybe he's just grateful his apology was accepted and that the kid mostly kept it cool while he and Harper went nuclear on each other.]

[ He doesn't dispute the "probably never heard of". He nods. Kevin would be hard-pressed to locate Missouri on a map, honestly.

He's not sure if he finds Dixon's assessment of him as a non-murderer comforting or not. ]

I'm... yeah. People act like you're a pussy for that, you know? [ The others think he's soft. Child(e)ish. Especially for clan Brujah. ] But it is what it is. [ He says that like it means something and isn't just a verbal shrug. ]

...You don't exactly look like you've run from a lotta cops.

[ There's a question he's asking, but he's not sure if it's okay or not. Cops don't like it when you're all "yo, are you a cop?" ]

They shouldn't. [It's not that Dixon's against murder or against calling people pussies. It's just that murder is a kind of dirty business that should be expected of people. It's something for bottomfeeders like him, not for teenagers. And it doesn't have shit to do with whether you're a little bitch or not.] Anyone gives you shit about that here, send them my way and I'll kick their ass. I've got some steam to blow off on people, if you couldn't tell.

[Dixon's not sure how to take the question either. It's not that it's inappropriate for Kevin to ask, it's just that the difference between what reality is and what he wishes reality still was is so stark that he has to pause. It's like the deep breath someone has to pause and take before they make a running leap across a canyon.]

Yeah, I used to be employed by those people. So I didn't have to run any. [Maybe if he does elaborate Kevin will assume that Dixon's employment was terminated by 'captured onto world-saving quest' and not 'fired with seriously justified cause'.]

...Thanks, G.

[ There's some irony in "if anyone gives you shit for being nonviolent, let me beat them up for you", but Kevin understands the attempted kindness. It's fine. It's kind of like that time Tommy offered to kill Kevin's sire for him. Trying to correct the shitty parts is probably beyond his ability. ]

It's cool.

[ Kevin's not the most observant or analytical, so he assumes that Dixon just means he was a cop before coming here and not fired. ]

You don't give me shit for skating, I won't give you shit for cop stuff.

Deal.

[He gives Kevin a genuine smile.]

Just don't tell anyone. You're the only one that knows. [It's mostly just that Dixon doesn't want to talk about it with anyone. There's a whole can of worms in there, going sour and rotten and soupy the way worms are wont to do in the hot and damp.] And I won't tell anyone you break the law popping wheelies.

So. [Because Dixon has no social skills.] What's it like being a vampire?

[ Kevin nods again. He won't say anything. It's not like it matters out here. What's Dixon gonna do, arrest a hobbit for smoking some pipeweed or something?

Shit, they could totally run into one of those if they're out here doing this Lord of the Rings thing.

That would be cool as hell. ]

Being a vampire sucks.

[ The wordplay is completely accidental. It's the same answer he gave Hiccup before. It sucks. ]

Like okay, you think living forever is cool? But no, it really is super not.

[He super would if it meant getting some pipeweed out of it. Hell is being addicted to nicotine in the middle of a save-the-world quest through the Rennefaire.

Which, well, withdrawal calls. He can only resist the siren song of a smoke for so long, so he succumbs and pulls one from the pack in his pocket, counting his store down to seventeen.]

No, it seems fucking awful. [Dixon's never held any great value on his own life. The lives of others, certainly; he's selfish enough that he absolutely would wish eternal life on his momma, his dad, his Chief. Would have, at least. But not for himself.] Sorry it's as bad as it sounds.

[He lights up, holding the burning cigarette out to Kevin in case he wants a drag before Dixon goes in on it.]

Being a cop sucks too, for the record.

I'm good. Wouldn't feel it anyway.

[ Kevin declines. If he's honest, he also just doesn't like being that close to what amounts to even a very tiny fire. He knows some people in his clan that still go through the motions of smoking even in death, though. Old habits. ]

In New York, the vampires own 'em.

[ Because that's the first thing that comes to mind for Kevin. ]

It ain't good.

[Dixon shrugs.]

No, probably not. Sounds like vampires got a lot to get arrested for. What with the sucking blood and all. [He takes a drag, eyes rolling back a little in relief. Christ, he doesn't know how he's going to get through this quest. It was made for people who weren't him, people who are heroic and strong and don't live on a diet of Fritos and nicotine and stout and bourbon.]

That RAP sheet's gotta be something. [He cracks himself up. Any time they had to pull a RAP on someone with more than five years of crimes it was the kind of nightmare only a trained professional could interpret. Immortal decades? They might as well write the whole thing in Mandarin.]

Probs.

[ Kevin doesn't even disagree. ]

It's kinda hard to do, though, cause vampires do magic? Some of 'em have mind control junk that makes it real easy, I'm real fast, I got a buddy who can just like... disappear...

[ He shrugs. ]

Mostly when somebody who knows what they're doing gets in trouble and it sticks, it's other vampires they pissed off. You don't get real old unless you're either real good at not getting attention or real good at having so much nobody's brave enough to fuck with you.

[Dixon listens to Kevin spill out all the information, knowing full well that he's not going to be able to do anything useful with all these facts about vampire culture. A detective would - any information about someone is something that should be stored up, a piece of metal or plastic to build the microscope to look at the world through. For a long time (way too long) Dixon harbored dreams of being a detective, solving cases, figuring things out that no one else had been able to.

But that's not going to happen and he knows that now.]

That sounds pretty fucking exhausting. [He takes a long drag and whistles.] Hiding all the time or having to be a big-shot. In the real world there's room for people in the middle.

['The real world', like Kevin's from fiction.]

[ Kevin just casually drops pieces of fact that way. For as long as he's here with people that can't threaten the status quo back home (as far as he knows), he's free. He can just... talk about vampire stuff.

He's never really gotten to talk about vampire stuff with people who aren't vampires, and most of them kinda don't enjoy the experience.

Maybe it's even sort of selfish to pour it out there for other people and make them hear it. Kevin doesn't know, doesn't analyze it. He just takes the opportunity as it's given. ]

It's... yeah man, "fucking exhausting" sure is a way that can be put.

[ He's been doing this for ten years. He might be doing it forever, if the world doesn't all end the way it seems like it's going to.

Neither of these options is very appealing. ]

I'm used to keeping my head down, really. But that's not something I can do here, I guess?

[ Kevin makes a broad motion with one arm to indicate the whole of the Green, or at least try to. ]

We don't got a lotta heads.

[He gives Kevin a beady look and inhales from his cigarette again. He doesn't mind hearing it. The kid even seems like he needs to blow off steam a little, or at least let some seep out.]

Eh. [Dixon makes a waggling motion with his hand.] Depends on what's a lot. I been keeping a list and it's getting kind of long.

[He rummages around in the ladies' backpack he scavenged from the clothing store and pulls out a comic book - the inside page, where the promo for other franchises and letters to the editor sections meet, are covered in names or crude descriptions. The handwriting is quite clear and neat, but it's pretty obvious Dixon's spelling and intuition for syllables is five shades of atrocious and that he doesn't have a ton of respect stockpiled for half the people here - a few of the people without names are things like "fat space guy" (Loken) and "person of color" (Anita, with those three words underlined and 'the black girl' crossed out underneath it). There are little check marks next to each name.]

I was checking people off every night, but now I just do it if they stay here the week. Seems like whatever's jerking our chain is still trying to sort out who belongs here and who don't.

[ Kevin comes up the rest of the broad fountain tiers to peer at Dixon's list, his gaze uncritical. It's colorful, at least. He can figure out who some of them are, but others are a mystery. ]

Yeah I been back and forth between both places like... a couple times now.

I guess the best we can do is try and know who everybody is just in case. It's a good thing we got these mirrors to keep track. It could be worse?

[ He shakes his head. ]

Man this is gonna be one doozy of a hike we're gonna do anyway even if we got magic walkie talkies to keep track of everybody.

Could be, I guess. I figure I should probably stay away from the mirrors for a while. [Which, for someone who has basically no filter or ability to keep a lid on it, is not going to be easy. He gives a rueful smile that looks more like an anxious grimace.

He takes a last drag on his cigarette and winces as it burns down low enough to bring the ember to his fingers, not from the heat but from knowing he can't just absently light up another one. He'll have to hold off or he'll regret it later.]

You weren't here for the first half. It was torture. I think I lost half a foot to blisters and permanently fucked my back.

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[Open] Mind the Gap

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