Sycamore
{{ | date=07/14/2018 | time=07:45 EST | summary=Alma runs in to this guy she met once in a Starbucks. She can't remember his name. | cast=
| place_name=Rouge Park in Old West Side. | log=Alma has finished her morning corvid observations. Today she's ended them in Rouge Park, one of her favorite spots. Maybe it's second to Old East Side but they swap places in her heart. Whatever. She is sprawled on her back looking up. The tools of her trade are near by. She's next to a tree and when she looks up and over a little, she can see the sky through the branches. and when she looks up and over a little there, she can see pure sky. The tall grass has been pat down around her. It fans out in to a soft nest. "I love you," she says.
It's morning, and the ludicrously tall man with the long white hair is out and about in the former park. He's got a satchel slung across his body, with the handle of what might be a small axe sticking out. He's going between the trees, whistling as he searches underneath them - and greeting most of them by name. "Hello, Sycamore." He seems to be heading towards Alma's tree, bit by meandering bit.
<<DICE>> Alma rolls perception + alertness, difficulty 6
<<DICE>> 1 success (2 2 4 5 9, Specialty: No, Willpower: No)
Alma is still staring up. Right now she is happy about the skyview and prickling of grass and small things against the edges of her arms and legs. And she is happy at the breeze along top that musses wisps of hair into her face and that flows along and tickles the tiny arm hairs. She sighs contentedly. "Hmmmmm." and then she hears "Hello, Sycamore." Almost a song? becuase of how different the voice is. "Sycamore?" She raises up part way, on her hands to peek up towards hte sound of the voice. She wonders who's there.
<<DICE>> Grayson rolls perception + alertness, difficulty 6
<<DICE>> 3 successes (3 8 9 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No)
Grayson looks towards the sound of the other voice. "Sycamore," he says, his so-very-English voice pitched to carry to Alma and no further. "I believe it's only polite to greet someone when you meet them. Good morning, Miss."
"You," Alma says, blearily. It's the morning and today she hasn't really talked to any people yet. It takes a while for her brain to catch up. "The rain and... Wales." She sits all the way up now. "Alma. remember?" She picks some grass out of her hair. ticklish there. "Do people round her not talk in..." She's jogging her memory. "Coffee shops, uh, you know. right? Starbucks?" Grayson is hard to forget, but his name is hard to remember. He's the person with the lovely white hair who told her about the rain in Wales. and the person who was wearing very sensible and sturdy pocketed pants. He stills is. She looks up from his tucked in boots and pants back on up to his face and beams at his acceptable attire.
Grayson blinks, then nods. "You do look familiar," he says, "But I've slept since last time I was in Starbuck's. Several times. Please to meet you again, Alma." He glances round at the trees again, then frowns. "Do you ever get the feeling that this is just too good to be true?"
She smiles with the face of someone who is coming to and meeting a
day with people in it. "I bet it's easier for me to recognize you than it is
for you to recognize me." She cocks her head and stairs off for a few moments
and then comes back to his face. "In fact, I can almost guarantee it because
of how recognition memory works."
In answer to his questsions, she looks up at him, puzzled. Then looks around at her nest, the tree, the sky, sits up more ramrod straight and looks around the horizon and the park. "Why? it's all here." She shakes her head no. "Really, the universe is there and... it's like it's out to help you. It's the opposite of everyone being out to get you." She smiles some more, and inhales the air that sometimes comes through the leaves and has just a tiny bit more coolness. There is a very quiet satisfied sigh.
Grayson shakes his head, then turns to look around. "Some bits of the universe are there to help," he says, "But some of it isn't, and most of it just doesn't care one way or the other. My instincts are telling me this is not the paradise it seems." He may be looking around, but Alma is always in at least his peripheral vision.
"I love being with it all, even the parts that don't care. I know
that this grass and those birds and many things don't feel the same way I do
but they have their own way. and I can empathize with that and, just..." she
searches for some word that fits and finds one she can sort of jam in to
place, "celebrate them."
But his words have piqued her curiosity and she looks around, sterner.
<<DICE>> Alma rolls perception + awareness, difficulty 6
<<DICE>> 4 successes (2 6 8 8 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No)
Grayson smiles. "Where everything is in balance and wholesome and right, I agree with you. But... I think I've made a mistake in coming here. My instincts are screaming at me to get out while the getting is good, and I try not to ignore them. You're welcome to walk with me, if you'd prefer."
Alma says, "Sure." and starts to gather her things. She puts her vest back on and slings her bag across her torso. She checks to make sure nothing has fallen out of her pockets. There's... a small twig on the ground that she picks up and examins. It goes in one of her pockets. She stands up. "I'll walk with you. Yeah, it's secluded out here and you have to watch yourself sometimes."
Grayson waits for Alma to gather her things, then turns to walk back out of the park with her. "I find it rather harder to blend in than most," he points out, with a hint of amusement. "If nothing else, the accent is a bit of a giveaway around here. So what were you actually /doing/ out here at this hour of the morning, anyway?"
Alma looks up at him and notices that he is tall. Sometimes that
detail gets lost in all the others. She laughts, and tries to mimic an
accent. "Right," and then laughs at how awkwardly she pulled that off. She
pulls a field notebook out of one of her pockets and lets it fall open to
today's notes. "See?" She walks up closer to him and shows him some notes
she's taken on crow families. There are sketches here and here in the margin
and sometimes taking up more space because drawings shouldn't always be
delegated to the margins.
With her other hand she pulls the binocs up as if to say, I look through these. Then starts walking a little more graceful as she stops staring at the notebook instead of her surroundings. "Remember when we met? I told you about New Caledonian crows? I think?" She quickly makes sure he understands that they aren't around here. "Here you get American crows. New Caledonian crows are in New Caledonia. That's on the other side of the world."
Grayson smiles faintly; apparently the reaction to his height is one he's encountered before. "I've never needed to worry about where New Caledonia is," he says, "Given that I knew where Old Caledonia is. But yes, I do remember you talking about crows. I've not had that much to do with corvids - I'm much more of a raptor man."
Alma is starting to wake up more now. Well, to be accurate, the part
of her that is social is starting to wak up more. That means there are more
words! "Is Old Caledonia an archipeligo too? Do you know about insular
biogeographies? Detroit is like... sort of like... isolation happens not just
from the ocean, I mean, like in New Zealand you get alpine forrests and of
course at different elevations," she interrupts herself.
"Raptors are so cool too!" Really, she likes all kinds of birds. "Do you like vultures? They are so bad-ass! They aren't the prettiest but, I mean, they are the best garbage collectors. Disease still around? Nope! No sir, Vulture kills disease vector dead. I hate that their habitats are are getting fucked up," She startles and looks at his face, embarassed, "uh, everywhere." She looks down and kicks the ground a little, to enjoy a small bit of gravel there, now that they are closer to where gravel might have strayed.
"Vultures do have a place in life," Grayson responds, either not noticing or not caring about the swearing, "But personally I'm not that keen on them. They just aren't as interesting as the corvids or the raptors." His long stride could carry him quite swiftly towards what he probably thinks is a safer part of town, but he's keeping pace with Alma.
Alma doesn't have all the words yet. "Yeah! Zooom! Swoops!" She is a little punchy and goofy from the words coming online, so to speak. Her narration is accomplanied by her hand going up and around, high up, with the 'Zoom!' And then she points two fingers at her eyes and then all over and Swoops down with her hand, grinning all the while. "And of course I've already told you about crows." Well of course they are cool. "I like how New Caledonian crows have a little fringe of feather just around the start of their beak. so cute." Her tone goes up a ltitle at the end there.
Grayson gives Alma something of an odd look at her narration, but then he smiles ever so faintly. "Absolutely," he agrees, then shakes his head. "I think you might have shown me a picture of the New Caledonian crows, but never having seen one other than that I wouldn't actually know. I've met a lot of Carrion Crows, though, and made friends with a raven or two."
"Ooooh," she says. "Ravens are how I ended up switching away from a focus on human cognition and choice blindness. I was visiting the choice blindness group in Lund University, but there's a group there with a corvid cognition station." She tells him a little bit about it, and how she feel in love with those people and the ravens there. "And then I knew that I really wanted to study intelligence in all things. Not just humans."
Grayson smiles. "And there are a great many things with intelligence," he agrees. He seems quite willing to hear all about cognition and choice blindness, and about how corvid cognition is just awesome. "Of course," he points out, "Even Einstein wasn't sure about the limits of human stupidity. Just because we can be bright, it doesn't mean we're always bright."
"Yes, even plants. though I found you get more skepticism than not
when you try to make a case for them. But really, look up mycorrhiza and
super organizm and all those trees." Her voice is filled with respect an awe
at that. "It's nothing I know all about," she admits.
"Then she goes to correct him, "well, intelligence is so much about being brilliant exactly? I mean, I don't say 'wow! isn't he smart' uh.. it's about capabilities. actually, intelligence is kind of a misleading word and I don't raelly like to use it but it's good short hand, well sort of, when I'm talking casually." And yes, she admits "people can be fucking stupid." she sighs. "It's so weird, it's like, I feel this great expansive love for everyone and everything, and then suddenly I realize... wow how hard it is. and dont' know if I like people much at all, like a riptide maybe. inside. Have you heard of restorative justice? Like, I get so intense and angry at things people do but then I have this feeling like I could just hug someone and it..." She isn't sure what it is. She hasn't found words for that. "It's kind of dumb." but she doesn't look convinced it is. She's got a sturbborn look on her face that by gosh she is going wrangle that in to submission and it /will/ work. She can do it. Whatever it is.
Grayson smiles. "You wouldn't believe the stuff I've talked to," he says. "Or then again, maybe you would." He laughs at the idea of restorative justice. "Personally, I'm more inclined to stay intense and angry at some of the things people do. Giving them a hug to make them be better people... well, I'd have to be really good friends with them, let's just leave it at that. I'm more of the vengeful sort, when I get angry."
She frowns at something he said. "No, I don't want to /make/ anyone be better. I want... it's more like loving them and then they can see, like. granted, I'm confused about that all.. but you know, there are those feelings to process and I'm okay with not understanding things. Do you know?" She looks at him to see if he gets that. "Like, anger is okay. It's... it can give people fuel to accomplish things. It's not all bad." then she admits, "man, I'd love to talk to those super ogarnisms but I imagine you'd have to slow way down to get on their level. maybe. moving molecules around. I don't knwo if they use electrical impulses like we do."
Grayson ahs. "Spontaneous enlightenment through love," he replies. "I see. Please, if that ever does work, do let me know?" He smiles, then. "Anger can be good, in the right place and at the right time. It can keep you alive and it can give you the strength to do what needs to be done. But anger needs to be tempered with wisdom, or it'll rage out of control and destroy you." And then his smile broadens. "You just have to find out how to speak their language," he says, offhandly.
She puzzles through that. "Oh. I hadn't thought of it that way. Yeah. I feel like that's happened before. Thought it's hard to tell if that kind of thing is just a thing in your brain from being sick or not." She frowns. "Though I'm not sure how much that matters. I mean, if it doesn't harm anyone." Then she gets to the language part. "Woa, I know I know, right? Like I talk to ravens and crows with behavior. not all words all the time. like maybe it's body language, or going with the flow. 'Hey you, yeah, I can respect that distance.' stuff like that. I got a smirk on it sometimes that they might not have with me. But I don't mind. It can be like a one sided crush." She grins. and is a bit dopey. But the morning is progressing and they are closer to mroe buildings and streets and there's a radio antenna. two. They criss cross and there were too birds and one just flew off. She stops, distracted.
Grayson chuckles, glancing up at the birds and then around. His shoulders aren't as hunched as they were, and his general mien is more relaxed. "We all talk to everything all the time," he says. "It's being understood that's the tricky bit. And on that note I think I'll bid you good morning - this spot doesn't seem to be nearly as bad, and I do have things I need to get on with."
"Oh!" she says. "I forgot your name?" She's looking off in the direction of that bird. and down at the sidewalk cracks and up at the clouds. Then she looks off in some summation of the vector all of those things and all of the feelings she has in this moment with this person and this place.
Grayson smiles ever so faintly. "James," he says. "He who listens when the world speaks."
"Nice name" She says. }}
