[They wade through the ankle deep slush in the very opposite of lockstep, several thousand people in their patched winter woolens. Sypha wears a nondescript and utterly shapeless cap over her bright hair, all her Speaker blues traded for browns and grays today. She's here as both observer and participant, a pad and pencil tucked into the breast of her coat, a makeshift sign carried openly in her hands.
The crowd calls out for food, for clear roads, for a stop to the rising price of grains and eggs. They fear famine, but they also fear flood. There's not a dry sock among the throng, and even the cityfolk know the damage all this snow will do if it hits the rivers all at once. After floods come standing water, insects, and sickness.
Really, Sypha thinks the government is lucky the city's free thinkers and revolutionaries organized this protest. It gives the people a way to channel their freefloating anxiety into something potentially useful. This need not explode into violence - it could be a venting of metaphorical spleen, a way to buy some time and even focus the leadership's priorities.
It's opinions like that that get Sypha dismissed as an optimist. The notepad in her coat and the imposing man at her elbow stand as proof that she's a realistic one.]
Hm? Oh, yes, of course there are! [They're so obvious, the policemen, with their stiff necks and flickering eyes. Their nerves are so distinct from the swelling anger of the citizenry, she can practically pick them out as unique scents.] Isn't it cute how they think they're so sneaky?
[The river of humanity pours out into the broadest and most central of the town squares. The nominal organizers of the lot have made temporary stages out of empty carts, positioned just far enough apart that the speech from one can't quite be heard from the fringes of the next. It's a neat bit of forethought, one Sypha files away for later.]
babe he loves you but sometimes you can predict how a thing will end.
I was mostly telling you because you almost stepped on that one's foot, and I'd rather them not have an excuse to react.
[Alucard's gotten used to being out of place. He looks as he does and nothing is going to change that. He's dressed modestly for most of his life, and even in the city he's continued that trend. It doesn't help him from sticking out, but his presence in Sypha's company? That's what seems to make his person begrudingly allowed in these spaces.
He doesn't take it personally. He just keeps his eyes sharp, and often times, crouches down in front of Sypha so her pad can rest against something solid as she writes. He's a good and useful boyfriend - he can even beome a writing desk!]
How much closer do you need to get to take notes on what's being said from the stage?
[Alucard's not above trying to duck and weave through a sea of people for Sypha's note taking.]
I'd like to at least be in hearing range. [Right now, all she can make out is the yammering of the crowd and its angry, fearful undertones. The speakers are no doubt decent orators, but there's too much ambient noise to discern their words.
All she really needs to do is listen. Sypha's been trained since childhood to absorb and regurgitate oral recitation. Sit her down before a lecturer, and she can faithfully repeat them down to 'um's and intonation for days afterward. Where her memory falls short is the nonverbal - but no less important - pieces of an event. The layout of the area, the number of people, the signs they carried, the police officers in the crowd, the smell in the air. That's where her notebook comes in. That's where Adrian has been so invaluable, both as a writing surface and a second set of eyes. He has a sharp eye for trouble and an uncanny read on unfurling human emotions.] Wait, are you saying you can hear from here?
[Fascinating! Hardly the time to delve into the specifics of how a dhampir experiences the world, but worth noting for a future conversation. Sypha tugs him through the crowd, shooting for the gaps and eddies as they open and close around her. They had to be getting close by now, she could nearly make sense of one voice rising above the rest--
Glass shatters somewhere nearby, sending a ripple of alarm through the crowd. Someone dives towards the speaker Sypha'd been zeroing in on, though she can't tell whether he's under attack or being tackled to safety as a thin plume of smoke rises from the back of the wagon-slash-stage.]
I can, actually. My ears are-- [Never mind, Sypha's smart and can figure out the rest. His ears are good, that's the point, but Sypha needs that skill right now.
So he moves through the crowds with Sypha, his height a blessing most times when people part ways and a curse when Sypha ducks and weaves through spaces that only she can manage. It leaves Alucard smiling awkwardly and apologizing to those who try and resist - he points to his swiftly moving friend ahead, and only then do people part.
The shattering glass is sharper to Alucard's ears. It causes him to leap forward to Sypha, knowing that her instinct will be to stay.]
Someone's set a fire-- [His nose can already pick it up. Wait.] Two. We need to get out but fast.
Small>[No physical law governs which way a crowd will split in the first moments of violence. People scatter in all directions from a hundred different epicenters, knocking the people nearest them askew. Sypha's not immune; someone's shoulder checks hers sideways, while a stray ankle clips her knee. She trips in a corkscrew, and nearly tucks herself into a safe ball of knees and elbows before Adrian appears like a bulwark at her side. Her hands catch hold of his arm and grip tight.]
What? No! People set fires to drive protesters away! [Point proven as a woman with a scarf wrapped around her face bounces off Adrian's back.] We need to go where we're not wanted! Come on!
[A dhampir can't be moved by a human's piddly tugging, so Sypha doesn't even try. She lets go and shoves through the crowd, trusting that he'll follow.]
[Alucard's soon impossible to hear over the sudden shout of FIRE! from someone in the crowd. It's the same time as the flames reveal themselves as coming from the west. West, the way Sypha just tried moving.
The dhampir swears, for the great tide of humanity looking to escape does force him to move with them. Shit.
In vain, he lets his voice ring out once and loudly:]
[Yes! She knows! That's the idea! There's a capital-c-Cause ahead of her, a wrong in the midst of being committed, she can't turn away! It needs documented, if not actively stamped out--
With a mighty, muffled whumpf, a gout of flames bursts from the broken window of a nearby building. Sypha's half-turned away when it goes up, but the blast of heat still crackles across her cheek and neck, drawing the skin tight and tender. She throws up her arm and ducks away, but does not avert her eyes. People instinctively shy from the fire, pressing tighter in the street, buffeting her away, away, away, but Sypha still sees them. Two men, both wearing the shiny uniform shoes of constables under patched coats and shapeless hats, ducking down a side alley.] Wait! You!
[Sypha twists free of the crowd and catches herself on the curb, scrabbling back to her feet to dash after them. She hears her name, carrying over the shouts and shrieks, but one of the plainclothes cops glances over his shoulder and meets her eyes. There's no stopping now.
She makes it all of four steps towards the alley when someone snatches her elbow. Sypha whips around, expecting to snap at Adrian, only to meet the chill stare of another constable. This one's in full uniform, helmet pulled low on his brow, nightstick in hand.]
"Well well well," [his fingers dig into the tender inside of her arm.] "Caught myself a firebug."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
excuse u it is a PROTEST
The crowd calls out for food, for clear roads, for a stop to the rising price of grains and eggs. They fear famine, but they also fear flood. There's not a dry sock among the throng, and even the cityfolk know the damage all this snow will do if it hits the rivers all at once. After floods come standing water, insects, and sickness.
Really, Sypha thinks the government is lucky the city's free thinkers and revolutionaries organized this protest. It gives the people a way to channel their freefloating anxiety into something potentially useful. This need not explode into violence - it could be a venting of metaphorical spleen, a way to buy some time and even focus the leadership's priorities.
It's opinions like that that get Sypha dismissed as an optimist. The notepad in her coat and the imposing man at her elbow stand as proof that she's a realistic one.]
Hm? Oh, yes, of course there are! [They're so obvious, the policemen, with their stiff necks and flickering eyes. Their nerves are so distinct from the swelling anger of the citizenry, she can practically pick them out as unique scents.] Isn't it cute how they think they're so sneaky?
[The river of humanity pours out into the broadest and most central of the town squares. The nominal organizers of the lot have made temporary stages out of empty carts, positioned just far enough apart that the speech from one can't quite be heard from the fringes of the next. It's a neat bit of forethought, one Sypha files away for later.]
babe he loves you but sometimes you can predict how a thing will end.
[Alucard's gotten used to being out of place. He looks as he does and nothing is going to change that. He's dressed modestly for most of his life, and even in the city he's continued that trend. It doesn't help him from sticking out, but his presence in Sypha's company? That's what seems to make his person begrudingly allowed in these spaces.
He doesn't take it personally. He just keeps his eyes sharp, and often times, crouches down in front of Sypha so her pad can rest against something solid as she writes. He's a good and useful boyfriend - he can even beome a writing desk!]
How much closer do you need to get to take notes on what's being said from the stage?
[Alucard's not above trying to duck and weave through a sea of people for Sypha's note taking.]
Or should I shut up and become a desk?
extremely rude
All she really needs to do is listen. Sypha's been trained since childhood to absorb and regurgitate oral recitation. Sit her down before a lecturer, and she can faithfully repeat them down to 'um's and intonation for days afterward. Where her memory falls short is the nonverbal - but no less important - pieces of an event. The layout of the area, the number of people, the signs they carried, the police officers in the crowd, the smell in the air. That's where her notebook comes in. That's where Adrian has been so invaluable, both as a writing surface and a second set of eyes. He has a sharp eye for trouble and an uncanny read on unfurling human emotions.] Wait, are you saying you can hear from here?
[Fascinating! Hardly the time to delve into the specifics of how a dhampir experiences the world, but worth noting for a future conversation. Sypha tugs him through the crowd, shooting for the gaps and eddies as they open and close around her. They had to be getting close by now, she could nearly make sense of one voice rising above the rest--
Glass shatters somewhere nearby, sending a ripple of alarm through the crowd. Someone dives towards the speaker Sypha'd been zeroing in on, though she can't tell whether he's under attack or being tackled to safety as a thin plume of smoke rises from the back of the wagon-slash-stage.]
no subject
So he moves through the crowds with Sypha, his height a blessing most times when people part ways and a curse when Sypha ducks and weaves through spaces that only she can manage. It leaves Alucard smiling awkwardly and apologizing to those who try and resist - he points to his swiftly moving friend ahead, and only then do people part.
The shattering glass is sharper to Alucard's ears. It causes him to leap forward to Sypha, knowing that her instinct will be to stay.]
Someone's set a fire-- [His nose can already pick it up. Wait.] Two. We need to get out but fast.
no subject
What? No! People set fires to drive protesters away! [Point proven as a woman with a scarf wrapped around her face bounces off Adrian's back.] We need to go where we're not wanted! Come on!
[A dhampir can't be moved by a human's piddly tugging, so Sypha doesn't even try. She lets go and shoves through the crowd, trusting that he'll follow.]
no subject
[Alucard's soon impossible to hear over the sudden shout of FIRE! from someone in the crowd. It's the same time as the flames reveal themselves as coming from the west. West, the way Sypha just tried moving.
The dhampir swears, for the great tide of humanity looking to escape does force him to move with them. Shit.
In vain, he lets his voice ring out once and loudly:]
Sypha?!
no subject
With a mighty, muffled whumpf, a gout of flames bursts from the broken window of a nearby building. Sypha's half-turned away when it goes up, but the blast of heat still crackles across her cheek and neck, drawing the skin tight and tender. She throws up her arm and ducks away, but does not avert her eyes. People instinctively shy from the fire, pressing tighter in the street, buffeting her away, away, away, but Sypha still sees them. Two men, both wearing the shiny uniform shoes of constables under patched coats and shapeless hats, ducking down a side alley.] Wait! You!
[Sypha twists free of the crowd and catches herself on the curb, scrabbling back to her feet to dash after them. She hears her name, carrying over the shouts and shrieks, but one of the plainclothes cops glances over his shoulder and meets her eyes. There's no stopping now.
She makes it all of four steps towards the alley when someone snatches her elbow. Sypha whips around, expecting to snap at Adrian, only to meet the chill stare of another constable. This one's in full uniform, helmet pulled low on his brow, nightstick in hand.]
"Well well well," [his fingers dig into the tender inside of her arm.] "Caught myself a firebug."
no subject
There she is, opposite of an officer. Alucard's hearing being what it is means he catches everything, and oh he thinks not.
He musters up more speed. Runs at the man, still human but faster than many.
Did he just body slam a cop? Hell yeah.]
Run!