maskormenacelogs | Summertime

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Summertime

WHO: ANYONE who wants to stop by!
WHERE: the Maurtia Falls Endeavor Center
WHEN: July
WHAT: middle-school theatre! gardening! sports! other activities! shenanigans!
WARNINGS: none anticipated

Welcome to the Maurtia Falls Endeavor Center! Whether you're here to volunteer or to take advantage of the resources available, there's plenty to do.

People have been taking advantage of the summer weather to spruce the place up - repainting, clearing weeds off the grounds, cleaning windows and glass doors. Feel free to pick up a paintbrush or some windex! Or check out the mural of quotes from inspirational leaders on an abstract background a group of high school kids are painting in one of the hallways, and maybe catch whoever it is that keeps drawing, uh, suggestive images over it.

The theatre program director, Ms. Kretzmer, has gotten her hands on coveted copies of the junior libretto for Burr! A United States Musical. It's made the middle-school theatre summer camp more popular than ever, with kids battling for coveted roles, training their rap and dance skills, making vaguely historically accurate costumes, and having scenery-creation mishaps. Maybe you can audition! Maybe you're an adult who can use a power drill responsibly! It's all for the four performances scheduled for the last weekend of July, two for each cast.

Summer means it's prime time for the community garden. Tomatoes are ripening, zucchini blossoms are giving way to zucchini, basil is taking over herb plots. All of this needs weeding and watering, and all the produce needs using in the community kitchen. Pick up a trowel, take a cooking class, or lead a cooking class! Or see how many cherry tomatoes you can sneak into your pockets.

It's also baseball season! Or softball season, if you'd prefer. There's always a need for coaches, or for someone who can actually pitch. Please remember to wear a helmet.

And you can get involved a host of other ways. Get involved in arts and crafts, check out the music rooms or library, join the big sibling/little sibling program, learn or teach self-defense. It's a community center - it's here for you!

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1.

Wolfwood is usually out in the gardens, keeping up the maintenance and, occasionally, surreptitiously using one of his powers to heal plants that get sick. He'll say hi to anyone who joins in, and maybe offer a pointer. He's getting the hang of this by now.

There's also the ever-present threat of the squirrels that keep raiding the tomato plants. "Get out!"

2.

One day, you can find him, exasperated, accompanying a very bruised middle-school boy to the small infirmary. "You know you could have practiced break-dancing in the gym instead of out on the sidewalk?"

Ohhh, squirrels. Squirrels. Meeth is not at all inclined to tolerate their presence either. She's over at the other end of the garden, near the her planters, when she hears Wolfwood.

"Damn--if they're not herie, they're therie!" She rolls over on her urn, shaking her fist. "GET OUT OF HERIE, YOU BUSHY LITTLE THIEVIES! THESE ARE FOR THE KIDDIES!"

He had missed Meeth's presence, far away as she was and with enough plants to hide her small figure. So seeing someone rolling on an urn, also yelling at the offending rodents, is a surprise that stops him in his tracks for a moment.

The squirrels, however, realize they'd better run, and quickly begin climbing up the fence.

Wolfwood rests the rake he had been about to wield on the path. "...Thanks."

"No need to thank me. Those PESTS! bug me as wellie," said Meeth, turning her head briefly to scream that one word at one squirrel that was a little slower on the uptake, making it nearly fall from its perch.

She looked Wolfwood up and down. Meeth hadn't bothered to seek him out when she'd shown up, preferring to just start working at whatever needed doing, but she reconized him from his announcement on the network. "You're Wolfwood, rightie? I'm Meeth. I was glad to see someone taking an interest in the welfare of the kiddies that get sucked into this worldie."

Wolfwood watches as that final squirrel rights itself and flees over the fence. That volume is certainly effective.

The menace having retreated, he turns back to look at Meeth more fully. She does still look like she's a kid herself, but she doesn't hold herself like one.

(It's not like he doesn't understand people's aging having...quirks.)

"That's me. Good to meet you." Well, in person, he supposes. "It's for all the kids around here, not just imPorts."

"Oh? That's goodie." Meeth nodded her approval. Especially in this city, things could get pretty rough. "All the more reason to help outtie!"

She looked at the vegetable garden that the squirrel had recently been trying to help itself from. Tomatoes, squash, runner beans... she did still miss her striped apples and gourd potatoes, but the vegetables on Earth did well enough. "We'll have to figure out some kind of way to defend the veggies," she said thoughtfully. "I know there are spraysies, but I don't know how much I trust alchemical companies on Earthie."

Jaime couldn't contribute much more than some cash - he's got enough on his plate already, honestly - but he did want to swing by and see what was going on where Wolfwood worked. He's a city boy at heart, unused to seeing and picking fresh fruits and vegetables. He sees one strawberry, hanging tantalizingly off the vine, so heavy that it's nearly hitting the dirt. It's as red as anything Jaime's ever seen before, and it looks even better considering he's hot and parched in the mid-July sun.

He's only just plucked it when he hears a familiar voice behind him and jumps up, stiff as a board. He yelps, "It was only one, I swear!"

Oh, he knew he wasn't supposed to pick these.

"Huh?" Wolfwood lets the trowel he had been waving threateningly drop to his side.

And would, at this point, have pointed out that Jaime is free to pick a single strawberry, if the fleeing squirrel wasn't diving into the blackberry bush next to the strawberries. "There you are!"

"That's who you're problem is with? Oh, well..."

Jaime looks at the squirrel in his little squirrely eyes - honestly, he's pretty cute for a pest, isn't he? - and ducks down a little lower, peering at him. The squirrel peers back, evidently feeling perfectly safe in his little hidey hole.

But Jaime doesn't need to actively move to catch the squirrel. Instead, his black and blue carapace crawls out from underneath his skin and his arms extend, darting out and catching the squirrel in what looks like a facsimile of a claw machine.

"What were you gonna do after you caught him? He's just gonna keep coming back, and it's not like you wanna separate him from his little squirrel family. If he has a squirrel family." He looks at the squirrel, chittering angrily in his grasp. "If he didn't, that'd be even sadder."

It is, honestly, unnerving to see Jaime use that power so casually. Wolfwood's far more used to this kind of thing now than he was a year ago, but there's still a part of him that thinks inhuman abilities should be reserved for emergencies, no matter how useful they are.

It is useful though. That squirrel isn't going anywhere until Jaime lets it.

"He can come back after we've harvested the tomatoes."

Just a few days without squirrels eating half of a ripe tomato and leaving the rest, mockingly, in the middle of the path. Please.

"After you harvest the tomatoes," Jaime echoes, looking over at the plants. In Wolfwood's defense, Jaime's power is a disgusting, unnerving thing; others had been sick outright when they'd first seen it. It's only Jaime's own numbness to the situation in addition to others' breezy acceptances that he's decided that it's appropriate to transform his hands and let his suit goop up with nary a warning word.

Of course, Wolfwood's seen it a couple of times by now, so there is that. He watches the squirrel wiggle. "What, do you want me to just hold it the whole time? I don't think either of us will like it. Maybe there's a cage somewhere around here..."

Oh, that way lays danger.

"Not that we're gonna keep it. Two dogs and a snake is too much as it is."

Anathema had heard about the center via Sal — it helps sometimes, having this connection into other Porter cities — and had wound up swept along in the other woman's wake for once, happy to check it out and support a good cause.

She's half-decided to come back another day to help out with the arts and crafts, but today, the witch is currently curled up on a wooden bench, enjoying the sunshine and taking a break from weeding in the gardens (the knees of her skirt grass-stained, a smear of raspberry on her sleeve). She's skimming through the printout an enthusiastic kid had handed her earlier, the casting call for—

"Burr???"

There's a ripple of surprised and delighted laughter from behind the bush, right when Wolfwood passes it.

It's not a bad sound, certainly, but it was unexpected. So Wolfwood, watering can in hand, stops to peer around the bush.

That's a new face. He smiles. "Hey."

Anathema unfolds herself from the bench at the sudden appearance of someone else, reflexively smiling back at the man as a hello. "Oh, hi! Sorry. I'm just. Having a lot of fun with this." She waves the printout in the air, then neatly folds it closed again into her lap, clearly intending on keeping it and not just tossing it right out. Is she going to that community theater performance later? Absolutely yes.

"I probably broke whatever idyllic gardening you were up to. Do you work here?"

"Oh--"

Cecelia stops abruptly as the boy and his sour-faced chaperone rounded the corner she was about to turn down. She shuffles backward, hugging her notebook tightly to herself as she presses against the wall, blinking owlishly and staring past them in her flustered state.

"Beg pardon--" Though she's quite certain they ought to be apologizing to her. "Go on, then, I'll just--"

Wait.

Hey. That's Wolfwood.

"Just...wait for you to pass...hi. Hello."

He knows that indignation. He knows it well enough to be surprised both that he's hearing it here again, and that it fizzles out.

"Red? Dropping off more books?"

"Huh?"

She needs a second to recover enough to be articulate...and gulp her heart back down her throat. Gods, it's not like she's here doing anything unseemly -- the book thing is even a great excuse! Relax!

"Yeah, no...no, uh, not that, actually. I mean--book related! But no. This stays with me." She glances down at her notebook very briefly before her eyes dart back up...and then over to the preteen giving her the preteen stink-eye.

"...C-carry on...then..." Her mouth twitches.

Book-related? Taking inventory, or something like that? Well, he's not going to stop her.

Unfortunately for Cecelia, however, the preteen stinkeye morphs into suspicion. "Hey, aren't you the imPrort who got kidnapped by weirdos?"

Cecelia's face gets redder somehow, and her gaze pointedly moves elsewhere, looking at neither of them.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replies quickly. "So sorry." To Wolfwood, she nods slightly, walking around both of them, speaking loud enough for her voice to carry behind her.

"I'll speak to you after your business is concluded, I suppose! Or not--I can't say I'll wait so long to find out."

Sal's learning quite a bit from her friends here, such as ways to contribute that aren't just fighting monsters or blowing something up. She learns to trust Nicholas' ideas, and when he first mentions this place it's enough to spark her curiosity. Because even if something like this ever existed in her own world, she was never before in a position to contribute like this.

Nobody turns to a vagrant to help out at a community center, unless they need the place burned the fuck down.

After looking around for a while, she gets put toward tasks in the garden. It's more than enough mind-numbing labor to keep her sometimes troubled mind empty of intrusive thoughts and memories; a blessing in itself, really, to forget about any of her past demons and dig around the dirt. Weeding out the various plots and hauling water and tools back and forth, she lets herself be lost in the task at hand. Shit, it's almost like she's growing to like gardening, of all damn things in the world. (And if she sneaks a few flowers aside for a small bouquet, well, that's fine too.)

It's tiring work, and afterward she takes her lunch up on the roof. As one does, of course, when they can fly on up there without any trouble. Dangling her legs over the edge and eating a sandwich, the stray baseballs from practice get lobbed back down to the ground from time to time; nothing to see here, everyone, just a volunteer mage hanging out on the rooftop.

It's the most quiet she is during the day, anyway, because Sal gets wind of the self-defense classes eventually. And for all that can be said for the theater practice down the hall somewhere, what happens in the self-defense class for a short time rivals it with dramatics. Some of the kids are very eager to learn from this mysterious woman with scar and tattoos; they pile up the wooden swords from the theater kids ("borrowing" them for a good cause), and soon enough a clatter of sound can be heard down the hall. There's cheering and yelling and it turns into a big spectacle of kids smashing wooden blades together, taking on Sal two to one.

She's good about living up to her namesake sometimes, but at least here it's in a way that almost...helps to improve the lives of other people. At least that's what Sal hopes, anyway.

Somewhere in the middle of that, Kon wanders in, having come by to donate some things to the center. And, seeing Sal, being unable to resist being drawn in to watch. And if, on occasion, kids who might be about to slip and fall badly find themselves righted again or landing gently, well, what's a guy to do when he's watching?

There is a simple joy to be had in watching his friend do this part-work-and-part-play thing, and Kon does not hide his enjoyment as he watches from a distance. When it does end, he wanders over to Sal with a bottle of cold water, which is, as ever, tossed at his friend.

"Nice moves, teach."

Even with all of this practice fighting, Sal's instincts are still sharp (at least for someone without a Kryptonian heritage). She recognizes his familiar footfall and turns quickly enough to catch the bottle in the air. Superboy's attitude is as contagious as it always is and she quickly offers him a smile.

For as comfortable as she is with a sword in her hand, there's a strange feeling of...safety, maybe, that his presence seems to offer. Almost as if she doesn't need to be as guarded in the presence of her friend. Well, whatever it is, Sal doesn't bother to over-examine this kind of thing, so she just allows herself to be amused.

"Somebody has to teach these damn kids something practical, don't you think? And if they can't learn any magic in this world, well, I guess this kind of shit will have to do." She tosses the wooden practice sword in with the rest of the pile nearby. Opening the water bottle, she pauses before taking a drink. "You know, I can't even be fucking surprised to see you at a place like this. Of all the imPorts who'd want to help the community, the person at the top of my list would be you."

She says it in a casual way, but it is undoubtedly meant as a compliment.

Kon's cheeks color, and he ducks his head. "You know me too well. I could say the same for you."

He nods at Sal, his friend, and one of four people in as many worlds that he truly trusts.

"Its good to see someone taking care of showing these kids some skills." He nods again, rather impressed at Sal being here and doing this. Not surprised, but impressed.

"Not really many other ways I can contribute around here," Sal admits, fastening the cap back onto the water bottle. "My expertise is frankly kind of limited." She makes a shrugging gesture over to the pile of fake swords. Instead of feeling tired, the frenetic workout of practice-dueling has her feeling energized. Honestly, it's giving her a level of peace that she wouldn't have thought possible, once upon a time.

It's enough to keep her working toward these goals, at least.

"But what about you?" She asks out of genuine curiosity; it's good to know what he's keeping himself busy with, but also he's always served as something of a moral compass for her. Sal always struggles with her own views of right and wrong, but she knows Superboy's instincts are sharper and more reliable. "You ever try teaching these kids a thing or two yourself?"

"I'm sure there are ways. You're a brilliant, strong, and canny person, and I bet you have skills you don't even know you have."

Kon nods, eyes on hers, really meaning every word. He admires this woman, this friend, more than he can say. He considers her to be one of his inspirations, one of the things that keeps him going, even during the wildest of times.

"Me? No. With the exception of my growing knowledge in science, I honestly am not sure I know anything practical. I know how many pounds per square inch of force to use to lift a collapsing building to as to not make it fall apart in my hands, and I can tell you exactly how much pressure to let myself use to knock someone out based on their height and apparent weight, without hurting them badly, but practical things? Not really."

He spreads his hands. It's one of the reasons that he contributes the money and things he does. He really has no idea how else to help.

"I know where my expertise is, and where it is not. And public speaking, also, is not one of my good spots."

"Guess you'll have to stick with fighting off criminals and burning buildings, huh?" She taps him on the shoulder good-naturedly. Sal understands, in her own way at least. There's been plenty of times where she's felt more useful when taking action; nobody will ever accuse her of trying to be a professor or a diplomat.

"You want to take a walk?" She nods toward the door. Things have settled down here and most of the curious kids have left for other pursuits. Feeling as if she's done all the work she can here, Sal doesn't mind peeling herself away for a while.

The water bottle is cold enough to entice her into another drink, and it's when she's finished that Sal is reminded of something else she's been meaning to ask about. "Speaking of all that hero shit, how've you been holding up? Crime seems to have picked up again recently, even outside Maurtia Falls."

She can't help but ask, of course. Sal is very familiar with Superboy's work ethic when it comes to his heroics; he'll drive himself to exhaustion if he's not careful, and Sal would rather not see him hurt again.

"Absolutely. Let's go." He gets a little stir crazy, standing in one place unless he is working on something. So he is glad she offered, though, for her, he would have stayed still. She had earned that.

"I've been doing pretty good. I had a few rocky times, but I managed. I remembered that look on your face and I didn't want to make you make it again." He nodded, firing a small grin at her.

"And I have been pretty evenly balanced lately. Working, classes, helping people, playing in downtime, and generally taking care of myself." He nods. As well as he ever does, anyway. Yes.

"How've you been? What have you been up to outside of this?" He waggled a hand at the place she had been volunteering at.

Sal is forced to take his assurances at face value. Knowing his nature, she can't really do much else but to trust in his honesty, whether or not the concern she has for him continues to needle at her. She flips the bottle in her hands as he speaks, looking nonchalant about it.

(As much as she hates thinking too far back, it's not the first time she's felt protective like this. All of those who she once considered friends used to pride themselves that Red Cloud was literally watching over them, safeguarding them from up high.)

"World hasn't erupted in a while, so I guess that means I'm fine," Sal says with a shrug. She's learned not to over-inspect herself, probably too much so, and breezily sliding around that question is like second nature. If she's not bleeding out in a desert somewhere, after all, things must at least be decent.

"Been noticing some of the younger imPorts getting into trouble around the city," she shakes her head. "Kind of like all this here. I guess maybe that's what lead me to try this out."

Even now, she spots a few kids running down the hall, more concerned with school and sports than whatever weird event usually pops up around here. Sal whips the empty bottle into a recycle bin (that's right, she finally understand what those weird symbols mean), looking over her shoulder at Superboy as she does. "You ever think it'll feel like you've done enough? Or if it'll always be..."

Sal sighs. It's hard to get her thoughts around it.

"I've been seeing that, too, yes. And trying to help where I could. And trying to find what is causing it, but it's almost like a whole segment of the population went a little wild, without warning."

But he listens more and thinks about all he has done and the need, the ever-pressing need, to help, to save, to make things better and he really thinks about her question and he looks ahead, trying to find such a thing, but slowly, he shakes his head.

"No. But... I also think someday, someday there will be a reason to sit down and let someone else pick up the weight of things. Someone else be responsible. Whether age, or responsibility for something new, or... something else. But for now? No. I do not think I will find such a thing any time soon."

Wolfwood occasionally finds his way to the roof as well, though in his case through the mundane means of entering a storage closet, climbing a ladder, and squeezing through a small door.

He would be surprised to see someone else up here, if he didn't immediately recognize who it is.

"Hey. Like the view?"

Normally being interrupted during a peaceful moment would be unwelcome and irritating, and Sal almost scowls over her shoulder—instead her expression lightens into amusement instead. Digging around in the paper bag next to her, she playfully lobs over a bright red apple in his direction.

"Always did like the view from up high," she admits. There were a lot of years in the past where she missed it desperately, in fact. Indulging in it now whenever she can seems almost natural. Necessary, even.

She pats the empty space next to her, inviting him over to sit. "You up for taking a break?"

He catches the apple neatly, smiling in return as he walks over to join her. "It's a good place for it."

To be honest, it's one of the few spots here where he can get away with a smoke break. For now, though, the apple's probably a better idea.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Summertime

Nicholas D. Wolfwood | OTA

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Sal the Cacophony | OTA

Kon and Sal

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