Summary:Don't buzz the tower, Maverick Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongFaster - Within Temptation |
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Kori does love to fly. It's technically not something she's supposed to do a lot of— for one it outs her as an alien, and for second it complicates things for SHIELD and NORAD when a highly energetic humanoid blasts around the eastern seaboard at supersonic speeds.
She tries to keep her flying contained to being well offshore. Kori's polite that way. But without sensors, communicators, or contact with the ground, it's easy to get lost. She ends up blowing past the tip of Long Island and shuddering windows at five thousand feet, a green and red streak in the late evening sky as she soaks up the last solar energy of the sun setting in the west.
Which, of course, tags Starfire on the Avenger's radar. In this case, Captain Marvel is one of the few (save maybe Thor or Iron Man) that could catch up with her, so that's exactly what she does. Taking off from the mansion, she soars up on an interception course, tracking Kori's energy signature instinctively as she winds up flying parallel to the alien girl. With that, she waves over to get Kori's attention, hoping to flag here down without being too ostentatious.
To Carol's senses the alien girl is a beacon of energy. A fair amount of it, too, enough to keep her flying on gravimetric currents with the internally stored power she has. Enough she might not ever need to touch the ground if she doesn't want to.
Kori spots the blonde aviatrix hailing her and waves back, beaming an enthusiastic smile. She adjusts her trim and slows to a parallel course with Carol, slowing her pace enough she can orient to the vertical instead of flying parallel to the ground. "Hello! It is a lovely day for a flight, is it the not?" she cries, enthusiatically. She's wearing strange garb— midriff baring top, brief shorts, and thigh-high boots with a modest wedge heel. All in purple with silver metal trim, and distinctly not of any Earth design. "Are you enjoying the wonderful solar radiation as well?"
Carol grins back, "Yeah, it's nice, but you're kinda flying a bit over a populated area, Kori." The woman fairly glows with energy all her own, wearing her standard red and blue outfit with gold trim, though the helmet isn't up for the moment. She gestures, "Was hoping to run into you, but we should probably get back over the ocean a bit."
"Oh no!" Kori looks thoroughly dismayed at this news, the aura around her literally dimming instantly. "I am so apologetic! I will do this immediately," she promises, and like a housefly darts eastwards out over the seaboard again. They get a mile away in a few seconds and Kori comes up to a hover, staying in the red sunlight limning her outline.
"You know my name," she observes. Hands rest on her thighs and she does a little flying bow. "I am indeed Kori Anderson," she tells Carol, and starts digging around in her crop top with her brow furrowed. She whips out a government ID card and hands it to Carol dutifully. "So you must be an agent of the government. I am required to provide this identification to any officer who detains me," she recites, and hands the card to Carol with both hands and another little bow. "Am I in the troubles?" she asks, with a worried hesitation. It's a standard SHIELD alien refugee ID, identifying her as Kori Anderson and a refugee from a minor planet in the Vega star sector. The picture is of Kori with the sort of beaming grin that probably drove the photographer to the point of insanity.
Carol grins, "Nah, no trouble… well, the outfit is more suited to Miami Beach than Long Island, but you wear it well." She smiles, "Vega sector? Flew by there a few times, but never really stopped to visit." She hands the card back, "Surprised you don't remember me, ice skating a few weeks ago? I'm Carol Danvers."
"Oh my the gosh!" Kori's eyes fly open with alarm and she presses her palms to her cheekbones, looking mortified. "Yes! I remember you now! You were not wearing the outfit of the tightness then, and you were not glowing, and I do not believe you were flying," she reminds Carol, in her defense. "But I am so the sorry for being the rudeness! Your outfit is, also the, uh…" she tries to remember the term, and her fingers curl in the air. "It is the 'the hotness'," she tells Carol. The croptop's pulled open again and she jams her ID back into the pocket of her cleavage. "It is a pleasure to meet you formally then, Agent of the Government Carol Danvers," she greets her more politely, and smiles with a sincere pleasure.
Carol laughs, "Carol is fine. So flying anywhere in particular tonight?" She keeps her tone friendly, and not really stern or strict like most government agents probably do. Her eyes glance around, "Honestly, I'm glad to have the opportunity to kick back and fly a bit myself, and there's not many people that can keep up with me here."
"Oh, I do not mean to interfere in your martial practice," Kori says, and floats backwards six feet. "Please, kick as much as you require."
"I am merely enjoying the clear skies and excess solar radiation at this altitude," she explains. "I was supposed to start a new job this evening selling magazine subscriptions. They call it the 'door to door' though somtimes it is also from 'the aprtment to apartment'." She looks crestfallen. "But I was meeting a friend to go to the clubbing last night and I did not realize that there are different clothes for different events such as interviewings for the jobs, and I was told I was not 'appropriately dressed' for such work." She sighs, then brightens. "I am not very good at the jobs I have undertaken, but I am learning! I am sure I will not get a 'the fired' from my *next* one," she promises Carol.
Carol grins, "Yeah, it can be rough. Especially when you're from out of town." In Kori's case, way out of town. Then Carol continues, "But, I spent a lot of time on other planets, so I get what you're going through right now." She tilts her head, considering something, then smiles a bit wider, "Have anything for dinner yet? And is there anything you can't eat?"
"I have not had the dinner," Kori tells Carol, shaking her head negatively. "I have two packages of the noodles of rice and one half of an apple in my larder." She taps her finger on her chin, thinking and looking skywards. Skywards-er. "I believe I can consume any organic material with little trouble. My metabolism works very efficiently. I may try to find food at the Park of Central tomorrow. My internet research has told me the tails of cats are delicious and I have seen them growing in the pond there."
She frowns. "My neighbor yelled at me when I asked if I could harvest her cat's tail. I do not understand why these things are named the same. They are not even of the same biological order!"
Carol blinks, then laughs, "Yeah, English as a language tends to beat up other languages in dark alleys and rifle through their pockets." She grins, "Come on, I know a place where they do an amazing clam chowder." And her Boston accent is showing, as she definitely says CHOWDAH, before flying off northwards… thankfully not going all the way to Boston, as that's a bit far, even for their flight speed.
Kori falls into pace with Carol, the windshear robbing them of casual conversation for a bit. Her clothing is admittedly on the brief side, but it seems like it's built to withstand the extreme stress of flight. It's something that's fairly hard on Earth clothing, after all. Kori closes with Carol and touches her shoulder to get her attention as they reach the port. "Friend Carol, please pardon me if I am being the rudeness," she says, hesitating. "Would it be acceptable to land somewhere discreet and walk to the place of the chowder of the clams? I am very trying much the hard of being the 'profile of low' and flying would indicate my non-terrestrial origins."
Carol glances over and nods, "Good idea. We can land in the alley nearby." She shifts course, coming in for a soft landing there, out of view. Once down, she seems to instantly change from her regular outfit to just a T-shirt, jacket, and jeans, looking much more casual than she did in flight.
Kori looks at Carol's celeritous clothing change, then down at her extraterrestrial attire. It's not immodest by any means, but it's definitely something— as Carol said— appropriate for South Beach. "Am I going to be in the trouble for wearing my flying clothes?" she asks, hesitatingly. "It is much the revealing as my clubbing clothes, and I cannot fly in my Earthling clothing without destroying it. All your things are so flimsy," she frets. "And I was yelled at for flying without clothing when I was processing into the refugee program, and I do not wish to get *you* in the trouble."
Carol shakes her head, "Nah, the owner knows me, you're fine that way. Though maybe we can see about getting you some more durable clothes." She grins, leading the way, "And this dinner is my treat, I have this."
With that, she goes into the small diner, waving to the woman behind the counter, "Hey Myrtle, can me and my friend get two bowls of your best clam chowder?" She grins and makes her way to a booth, sitting down and gesturing over towards the spot opposite her for Kori.
Kori walks in Carol's wake with a deferential sort of stride, but beams a smile at everyone who looks at her. She's certainly friendly enough. "I do not wish to impose on your generosity, friend Carol," Kori tells her. She looks at Myrna. "I would be content with your worst clam chowder," she assures Myrna with a studious sort of sincerity. "Because my friend Carol is doing of me 'the treat' and I do not require the luxury of the finest of foods!" she explains.
The leggy redhead settles into a chair with a primly upright posture, hooking one ankle behind the other and sitting with her hands in her lap. "How is it you have come to be friends with the proprietor of this establishment, Friend Carol?" she asks politely.
Carol gives Myrtle a wink, then glances over at Kori, "Knew her back in the day. Flew with her sister when I was still in the Air Force flying jets, so I would come along on get togethers. Especially when I found out she made amazing clam chowder." She shrugs, slouching comfortably at the table as she doesn't look particularly prim or upright, "I'm sure you have your own friends by now, right Kori?"
"Yes! I have several friends!" Kori tells Carol, enthusiastically. "I go to school with Peter Parker and he introduced me to his friends Mary Jane and Flash Thompson. And I went clubbing with my friend Eve, who is the celebrity YouTuber called Morning Glory."
She considers. "I believe I am friendly with Captain America Steve Rogers but I am not sure if that is him being polite to me or not," she says, ruefully. "He does not seem as if he needs friends, he is so very popular!"
Carol grins, "Yeah, I saw that video of you and Cap… um, kissing. I mean, I'd be lying if I didn't think about it either, but a bit surprised by it." She gives Kori a curious look, then chuckles, "Gives me something to tease him about besides the inferiority of his sports teams."
"My people absorb languages through physical contact," Starfire explains with a bright smile. "I heard the Captain America mumbling something in a language I did not yet know. He explained it was Gaelic, which is— I understand now— a language not spoken any more." She says something in Gaelic, which is mostly incomprehensible. "I asked him if I could have permission to learn his language, and he consented."
She furrows her brow. "But people have been teasing me at school for several weeks. I am still learning about your customs," she explains, with a humble note of apology. "I am worried I have done him an embarassment."
Carol grins, "Nothing too bad. It's just… well, kissing here is a sign of… well, intimacy, to a degree. It isn't really a big deal, Kori. Honest." She chuckles, "But yeah, I guess people would tease you a bit about that. Frankly, they're probably just jealous you got to kiss Steve."
"Yes, I understand that now," Kori says with a sigh. "But as much as people say it is not 'a deal of bigness', I am still being teased. If they are jealous, then they should do of the kissing with Captain Rogers!" she huffs. Her grammar gets a little odd with the flare of her temper. "He was most polite! All I did was ask him to teach me Gaelic and he said 'yes'. I am sure he would teach of the language to the other girls. Or kiss them! He was very friendly."
She looks skywards thoughtfully. "He is not a bad kisser, either," she allows, as an aside.
Carol arches a brow, then grins, "Really now… that's something I'll have to keep in mind." She mutters something under her breath in Kree, then sips from her water when it arrives. Just something to do until the chowder arrives.
"I am not the lucky!" Kori tells Carol, exasperated. "That is the point I am making! I am not fortunate or conniving or…" She sniffles suddenly, eyes welling up unexpectedly.
"I am trying very hard to 'blend' as Peter says. I do not understand all the rules or customs. Everyone is acting as if I have done something thoroughly shameful and unforgiveable, but no one will tell me it was 'wrong'. Many of them have said they would do the same thing! And yet, the girls at school are particularly cruel to me. I am trying to be on my behaviour of the best but it is making me full of the angry when they imply that I kissed Captain America because I was attempting to gain social status points!"
Carol blinks, then puts her hands out, reaching for Kori's hands to grasp them, "Hey hey hey… it's really okay. And that's not what I meant. And you did nothing wrong either. Don't let anyone tell you that you did. And there's nothing to be ashamed of." She tilts her head, looking at Kori, "Seriously, they're cruel because… well, they're jealous. I mean, you're tall, athletic, gorgeous, and you actually did kiss Captain America. So that makes them feel small, and that's nothing you did. That is on them, not you.
Kori's skin is warm to the touch, near-feverish. But the grip to her fingers is answered in kind, and she blinks owlishly at Carol's words. By the time the leggy blonde's done, Kori nods thoughtfully and her distemper seems to have evaporated.
"They are … the jealous?" she asks, looking surprised. "That had not occurred to me," she admits. "I am larger than the median human norm, though," she says. "That is a product of evolution, not social constructs," she adds, hastily. "They are literally smaller than me." She holds Carol's fingers happily, making no effort to release them unless Carol pulls back. "I did not realize that physical stature translated into social statrue."
Carol nods, "Yeah, honestly, they're… well, intimidated by you. So they're lashing out." She makes a face, "I forget sometimes just how nasty high schoolers can be. Ugh." She doesn't pull back her hands, sensing that Kori needs the contact right now.
"I am trying very much the hard not to be intimidating," Kori tells Carol. "I am friendly to everyone and ask questions and try to learn. I am not very good at reading, but I don't ask so many questions in class because Peter says it's giving everyone 'the bummers'," she explains.
Kori sighs, looking defeated. "I very much need to finish the high schooling, though. No one will hire me for a job unless I have a diploma. The work I have found pays very little and I keep getting fired because I make mistakes or because I wear the wrong clothes. I worn jean shorts to one job and was told I was dressed inappropriately. And then my next job, my boss fired me because I would not take my pants off! This is very confusing," she grumbles.
Carol hmmms, "Well, let me see if I can do a bit of asking around. Maybe I can think of something you can do that might suit your talents?" She grins and shrugs, "But you should definitely stay in school, though. At least until you get a little better situated. I know it's rough, trying to fit in with a strange culture."
"If you know of any work for which I would be the suited, I would be very grateful, friend Carol," Kori assures the blonde. "I do not wish to be a 'the burden'. I am accustomed to working and earning my keep. I know the stipend from SHIELD is not unlimited or indefinite. And I would like to buy clothes from the Nordstrom's because the thrifty shops have a very limited selection, and Google says I should buy the 'hot new clothes' instead of old used things," she frets.
Carol snorts, "Look, you could wear a potato sack and still look great. Though I wouldn't recommend it. Tell you what, we'll go shopping together, and get you some good clothes that will work for you. And fit in your budget. Just… don't listen to what the media tells you is fashionable. You're good enough, you can make anything fashionable."
"Are potato sacks a common accessory?" Kori asks, looking baffled. "You are the third person to tell me I should wear one. I looked at it on Googles and it was formless and unflattering. It seems like the opposite of what someone should wear while being fashionable," she explains.
"But I cannot do the shopping until I get a the employment. I have only enough money for rent this month," she says, crestfallen. "And clothing is expensive for how fragile it is. I would be able to do the shopping if I got a job— can you think of something I would be suited to do?"
Carol laughs softly, "I'll see what I can do, okay. And the reason people say potato sacks is because you look so good that even wearing something that bad you'd look good." She grins, "It's going to be okay, I promise." And just like that, the chowder arrives. Two heaping bowls of the best clam chowder you can get outside of Boston.
"My thanks!" Kori tells the waitress, and reaches for the bowl with both hands. She holds it up to her mouth and starts drinking. And drinking. And drinking. And drinking. Her throat works as she gulps it all down and the bowl's completely empty of the creamy broth in about fifteen seconds flat, heedless of temperature or consistency.
She sets the bowl down and smacks her lips, tongue gathering the remainder from the corner of her mouth. "That was the delicious!" she proclaims. "I have never had the chowder of clam before. I didn't know clams *had* a chowder. Is that a muscular organ or part of their bivalve shell?"
Carol Danvers whistles a bit, looking impressed at Kori, "Ah… no, the chowder is actually the method of preparation, not a part. Like a beef stew, really." She grins.
"Oh! I see," Kori says, filing that information away for future reference. "I am the grateful, friend Carol, for the 'treating' of the meal, and the advise. I am sorry if I was flying illegally— if you must ticket me for my actions, I understand," she says, glumly.
Carol chuckles and shakes her head, "It's okay, Kori, just be careful where you're flying, okay?" She smiles, "And I'm glad I'll have a chance to help you out here." She does, however, eat her clam chowder a bit more sedately.