Summary:Through daring-do and the fastball special, Tigra and Steve save a stranded horseback rider from certain doom. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Winter has set into New York City in earnest. The snow drifts found away from the constant flurry of traffic on the streets are surprisingly deep. Luckily enough, there's been no instance of rain to crust overtop with ice. It's left Central Park a wonderland in white. The main paths are clear for anyone brazen enough to go jogging or walking, but not the routes laid in bark or gravel.
Someone thought it was a good idea to take their horse out for a jaunt in the backwoods of the Park. It was all fun and games until the horse mis-stepped. Needless to say, things got 'upsot' — thank you, Jingle Bells.
The horse returns to the stables sans rider and wet up to its shoulders. It's an obvious sight as it canters across the white expanse of the Park field. Guess who's out jogging?
Dressed warmly in execise gear that at least leaves nothing to the imagination betweeh hips and sneakers, Steve immediately diverts from the bare if wet cement path. He reaches the scene of the incident, which appears to have left the rider stranded on a boulder in the middle of a pond. She's shivering and clinging to the rock.
"H-H-H-Help!" Her voice is already weak; hypothermia's setting in quickly. Steve curses to himself under his breath in Gaelic. The ice is too thin for someone of his weight!
Tigers are tropical animals, but also are found in colder climes, and in colder seasons. Tigra's fur keeps the edge of the winter off, but she's wearing knee high boots and thigh-high stockings to help keep her fur clean and dry as she wanders through the park, enjoying the smell of the snow and the sounds that travel through the chill air. Sounds like a cry for help. Ahh yes, that's a sound of the season, right there. Great Northern Spotted Victim, a bird which should have migrated south already, but for some reason this one hasn't. Okay, not exactly that.
Hearing the weakness in the birdc—cry for help, Tigra hurries to the scene, spotting Steve wearing practically nothing in the same places she's practically wearing anything. "Where's a flyer when you need one?" she says as she approaches quickly.
Turning on the spot, Steve spares the approaching tigress an attempt at a smile. "There's always the good ol' fastball special, but 'm not looking to knock her into the water again. Rock's too small for her to get all the way up on." He looks back towards the soaked rider, visibly shivering even at this distance.
"Hold on, m'am! Keep holding on!" he calls out towards her. Her nod is jerky.
Turning his attention back to Tigra, the Captain begins fishing through his pockets hurriedly, most likely in an attempt to MacGuyver the situation. "Think you can pussyfoot across the ice? 'm not gonna pretend 'm quick enough to run across it without breaking it."
Yes, there's the barest twinkle of amusement at his unintentional — no, who are we kidding, intentional wording there — call it humor with a float of adrenaline.
Tigra looks out at the rock, having been thinking similarly to the Captain when it comes to a fastball special. "I can try it," she says, crouching down and lightly tapping the ice. "I'm a little heavier than I look, but maybe I can move fast enough." SHe moves from a crouch to sitting down, starting to pull off her boots in order to facilitate a gentler step on the ice. Leggings will follow, in the interest of better footing. "I think maybe I can get away with running to her, and then tossing her back to you." She grins wryly. "Don't tell her that part."
Being a gentleman, the Captain turns his attention back to the pond-stranded rider as the tigress shucks outer clothing. Sure, there's fur, but surely it's the premise that counts! The tips of his ears still redden deeper from not only cold-burn.
"I have faith in you, Tigra. I'll be able to catch her if you toss her, yes, just…as gently as you can." He glances over and gives her a tight smile with a hint of apology; it's an unnecessary concern and he knows Tigra won't hurt a flea if she can manage it. He then claps his hands together twice and rubs them. "Ready whenever you are."
"P-P-P-Please, hurr-r-r-r-rry!!!" the poor rider calls to them, already sounding exponentially weaker than just a minute ago. Her grip on the rock slips and for a terrifying moment, she scrabbles to clamber up further onto it, whisping shrieks of terror. She manages it and Steve wonders if he has a new grey hair anywhere.
A lashing of her tail at the soundof the woman's shrieks, and for a moment, Tigra tenses to go ahead and try to leap straight to her. The woman recovers, buying them a few more seconds of preparation. She takes a steadying breath, and then smiles, despite the danger and despite the peril of the woman, reflecting that the water holds no terror for her. She tenses briefly, and then dashes off across the ice, moving on all fours to better distribute her weight, the ice crackling ominously in her wake.
His knees creak in result of tension as Steve readies himself on the bank of the pond, his hands almost hovering quick-draw alongside his thighs.
The ice is thick enough to continue holding up against Tigra's wise choice; even so, spiderwebs of threat at breakage spread behind her as she approaches the rock. The rider blinks at the tigress and appears to be startled wordless by her appearance, both arrival and physique alike — or maybe it's hypothermia's sapping malaise. Either way, the rider makes no move to dislodge her grip on the icy stone.
Behind Steve, someone raises their voice. He turns to see two of the Park police running over with a third person in tow, what appears to be a paramedic with first aid kit in-hand. "We've got it under control 'nd ready to hand her off to you," the Captain assures the trio once they realize who he is.
Claws dig in to help stop a skid, and while they get her under control they provide more starting poitns for the spreading cracks. "Crapcrapcrap," she says softly to herself as she almost goes past the rock. She lashes out, catches it with her claws and whips around on the ice to curl up around it, the quickly scrambles up while she can. "Heya Calvin," she says, briskly rubbing the woman's arms to try to get some circulation going again. "Your mom says we can play when you finish your homework." She'll try to gently pry the woman loose from the rock, now.
"K-K-Katie," the young woman chatters at Tigra. Her cheeks are red and her blue eyes are glossy now with discomfort. "I'm K-Katie." It won't take much effort on Tigra's part to get the rider to release her hold; it was getting weak as is. Thankfully, Katie's about 5'2" at best and maybe 110lbs of feather-weight to lift — that, and her scrambling at the rock itself has knocked off a good amount of the snow and ice. It'll be moderately easy for someone to balance if they stand on it.
"'m ready, Tigra!" calls the Captain across the twenty-five feet of distance. He's got his arms outspread and his features show intense concentration now.
Tigra holds the woman against her for a moment, hoping the fur will help warm her a little bit as the feline kicks at snow and ice for a moment, getting better footing. "Katie, this is going to be very scary," she says gently in her husky voice, "but I want you to try to stay calm, and try to relax. That's Captain America over there." Toe claws flex and relax repeatly as she keeps searching for the perfect positioning. "I'm going to toss you to him and he's going to catch you." Hopefully that's how it play sout at least. Tigra waits only a half second or so, enough for the woman to, perhaps, realize what was said, but not long enough, hopefully to give her time to protest. "INCOMING!" she shouts as she heaves Katie upwards in a lazy, somewhat graceless arc.
Katie watches Tigra's lips in the manner of the half-conscious; her eyes flutter shut once, but she scrunches her face up in concentration and manages a nod. Her head lolls to one side to look towards Steve at the revelation of 'Captain America' and one hand limply waves towards him. Steve, on shore, doesn't know what to make of it and merely frowns more deeply.
"T-T-Toss me? W — " It was going to be a frightened 'wait?!' but now it's something more like a shriek as she tumbles through the air.
The Captain's sneakers punch through the ice in the shallows as he takes one step forwards to compensate for Katie's flailing effects on her travel and then he's caught her as best he can. Thank god her head bounces off his chest rather than lands overtop an arm. One booted heel knocks off his ribs and he grimaces even as she begins scrabbling at him, sobbing in pure panic.
"Got'er, Tigra!" Well, duh, Steve, but confirmation seems necessary. "Here, take her," he says to the paramedics and police. The men and woman are quick to get Katie settled on the ground atop a spread winter coat. With their attention on the rider, Steve turns back towards the pond and the tigress in the middle of it.
He then claps his hands twice and opens his arms. "Know you can make this jump!" he calls, relief and elation making him dimple to one side.
Yeah, graceful it ain't. Effective…well, if it had been someone other than Captain America (f-yeah) catching, it might not have ended as well as it did. Tigra shifts again. Not enough room on the rock to get a running start, alas. She crouches down again, tenses…and yes, there's the subtle butt wiggle as she tests her footing before she -leaps- into the air with a grace that would drive an Olympic athlete to tears in admiration. She lands with a heavy thump and rolls forward before twisting up to a standing position. "Whew!" she says, relieved.
"'nd the American judges give it a 10," quips Steve as he walks over to the tigress. She gets a perfectly chaste once-over to settle the Captain's concerns and then he's sighing deeply, his hands rested on his hips. A quick glance over his shoulder proves Katie to be in good hands; she's already bundled up many times over and the paramedic's brusque if kind manners have her answering questions as coherently as she can manage.
"She would've been in trouble without you." Steve looks back at Tigra, brows still knitted. "Seen hypothermia like that too many times to count. Lost a soldier or two from it to boot. Another few minutes 'nd they would've found her too late."
Perhaps making the chasteness a bit difficult is how Tigra gives herself a quicky shake and shimmy to settle fur that got ruffled up during her maneuvers. "I grew up in Chicago, so I know the cold's nothing to ignore." She's quiet a moment when thinking about soldiers. "I've read stories," she says. "About what it's like fighting in the cold. Don't envy anyone who has to."
"Not being equipped to fight in the cold is no cuppa tea," the man agrees quietly. He does glower down at his feet, where the cold water has now thoroughly soaked into his athletic socks. "Least there's no risk of trench foot anymore." Toes wiggle inside the shoes testingly — yep, still feeling. Steve tucks his hands into his armpits and shakes his head.
"'nyways, all's well that ends well. Think everything's under control. Lemme check with the first responders before we move on. Figure a cuppa coffee'll do us both good — or tea, whatever suits you." Crunching back over to the small coterie around shivering Katie, the man does make sure that things are under control. He's very certain to make sure to point out that Tigra was the brave (read as: ballsy as hell) one to dare the ice and reach the stranded rider. It's Officer Hernandez that comes over to offer a sincere handshake.
"Thank you, Miss Tigra. You're a hero today," he says, smiling in a way that crinkles about his dark eyes.
Tigra goes to pick up her boots and leggings, draping the latter about her neck, holding the former from one hand. She takes the offered hand with a friendly, and furry, grip, and a quick grin. "Just did what needed to be done. If the Captain hadn't been there to catch her, not sure could've been done quite so easily," she says, with due modesty.