Summary:Scndal and Voodoo run into one another shopping for NYU gear at the campus store. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Priscilla Kitaen loves purple. It's just a thing with her. Some might say it's because her eyes are purple. Others might say it is solidarity with her new adopted sister. But Pris has loved purple all her life - at least all that she can recall. It's part of her signature, her identity. And there just happens to be a University in this big, beautiful apple of a city for whom their colors are purple and white! Some might assume - and maybe rightly so - that Pris normally would only find herself on a college campus because she'd been hired privately to dance for a party at some sorority or fraternity party.
Few would ever imagine she would be on campus for an actual educational purpose. And today they would be right! But she's not here to dance. She's here to shop! Pris has come to NYU's campus in order to find their campus store, and she is looking through their 'gear' selections for clothing and other items with her favorite color. She already has two hoodies, a big blanket, a set of towels and a sticker for her bike's license plate. But now she's looking through jersey-styled oversized shirts, pondering some additions to her sleepwear. Or rather, what she throws on when she crawls out of bed-wear. But anyway.
Displays of faux-tribal affiliation are the sort of thing that Scandal studies - with no small degree of disdain - rather than tends to find herself signing up for… but after months of inner conflict, she has finally conceded (to herself) the point that a few visible indicators of 'belonging' might help to persuade her shadow government minders that she is putting suitable effort into reforming her character. Thus, she forces herself to cross the threshold of the campus store, a carefully-applied mask of unconcern shielding her inner difficulties from view.
To an empath, however, she's likely to be instantly noticable: a locus of deep-rooted rage wrapped in tight control… with a mixture of resignation, determination, and wry amusement over the top.
Currently wearing no purple at all, she's clad almost entirely in black - leather jacket, tight breeches, knee-high boots - but with a richly blue silken bandana around her throat, its tone matching the streak in her hair.
Wrapped up in her buying spree Priscilla might not notice Scandal save for two things: first, the woman is coming in her direction, that being the womens' clothes section; and secondly, that level of tightly-leashed rage is not at all normal for this environment. At first Pris is only slightly aware of it, but her mind and instincts focus upon it as the hearing might angry shouts in the distance or grumbles closeby. Spotting the other woman approaching, Pris does not initially encroach upon her, but her observations tick upwards, noting the 'biker chic' style as well as the layers of feeling. She does not intrude telepathically, but she stays tuned in and aware, should something clear or distinct be 'shouted' in telegraphing intent.
Instead, Pris just murmurs 'sorry' and moves her pile ostensibly out of Scandal's way of approach, offering a smile. The woman does not seem to be angry at her, so Pris is taking this one step at a time. Of course, Priscilla quite noticeably doesn't fit in around here, either: she might, maybe, be the right age for a college campus, but at six foot tall in bare feet - and when is she ever in bare feet?!?! - a mixed-race young woman of incredulous curves and profound sensual grace, startling beauty makes her stand out. And her personal style is a bit closer to 'trailer park chic' than 'uptown New York'.
Emma is working on improving Pris' sense of style, but she's not forcing the issue, hard as that may be for her. So Pris tends to default back to her 'old norm' unless she is with Emma or has reason to dress up.
Though of somewhat indeterminate age, Scandal does visibly wear at least a quarter of her lived years - looking to be rather more likely a grad student than a run-of-the-mill first degree type. And her own style is certainly not de rigeur for uptown New York, however understatedly expensive the tailored jacket and boots might be.
The hyper-alert warrior can't help but notice the exotic and towering beauty… and the unearned apology merits the arch of an eyebrow, then a wry smile. "Not a problem, honestly. Thank you." The reply is given in fluently crisp English, the accent the sort of hard-to-place one that is indeterminately international.
"You're welcome." the towering mulatto dancer - she moves with the kind of grace that is undeniable, and the description of the profession fits too well to be ignored - offers in return, her own voice a rich one with a solid stamp of the deep south, yet tinged with a lot of various 'international' sorts of touches, the sort that come from being actively multilingual from an earliest age.
Pris looks over Scandal casually while holding up one of the jersey-styled tops in front of herself for the mirror. "That is an exquisite jacket. A tad monochromatic for me. But really nice." she offers. She doesn't say 'and you wear it so well' or anything suggestive like that. And yet somehow the suggestion is still there.
The shorter woman permits herself a brief ripple of laughter, before flashing a smile. "I admit that I tend not to shop… here. But I felt that it was, ahh, time for me to pick up at least one or two items declaring my affiliation. Just in case I should ever need them." She nods fractionally towards the stack in Pris's hands. "Though it looks as if you are trying to keep the shop in business on your own, there."
Priscilla seems to ease into the interaction better with that laughter, as if taking that as assurance that Scandal doesn't mind their interaction. She offers her own warm, rich laughter, if briefly, at Scandal's joke at her expense. "Well, their gear is in my favorite color. So, I decided since I've ended up staying in New York far longer than expected, I would grab some of this and enjoy it." Pris definitely hasn't been shy on the shopping front. "Affiliations are good to show. Better to feel, I would say. Less lonely that way." No criticism there, just an observation. "Kinda new for me, lately."
Scandal blinks, then laughs again. "Purple, hmm? I've met one or two people in the city who have a particular liking for it. But you're not even affiliated to the university, and you're buying their gear? An interesting choice. But affiliations can be… tricky, I find. Too often taken for granted, or treated too lightly. Or exploited by others. But they can be of immense value, yes… but I am detouring into one of my fields of study, and I apologise."
Priscilla honestly hadn't expected that kind of … ordered, regimented, educationally-informed response. She smiles and offers a one-shoulder shrug with predictable effects. "My adopted sister is going to Columbia. She's brilliant. But their colors … are not mine." Not really Catseye's either, but Pris doesn't bring that up. "You're right, though. Affiliations are tricky. But done right, they are incredible." There's a wisdom there in her tone, however lightly spoken: Pris is not unaware of how painful it can be to have affiliations taken away, stolen, or mistreated. "No apologies needed."
Considering only briefly, then, Pris drapes the jersey over her left arm and turns, offering her right hand to the shorter woman. "I'm Pris. I take it you're studying here, at least part time?" She definitely has not corrected the impression she doesn't go here. Newp.
"Part-time grad student, yes." The offered hand is accepted and shaken - the grip firm enough to suggest that heavier things than a pen might often be wielded. "And I'm Scandal." Her lips quirk into another wry smile. "Yes, really. One of my father's more imaginative gifts to me, though it was some time before I realised that it was more than just an exotic-sounding name. Being in an English-speaking country rather changes introductions…"
Priscilla's hand shows strength, of course, but only gently so, nothing that would clearly demonstrate her own use of items far heavier than any pen. She makes a point of passing subtly, not wanting others to clue in too easily to her secrets with something as simple as callouses. "A fellow multilingual." Pris smiles and chuckles softly. "English was one of my first. I am surprised no one at the foster care agencies decided to saddle me with 'Scandal'." she admits easily enough. "I'll admit, it is an interesting choice. But I am sure you've learned to live up to it, and with it both." The tall mixed-race woman's eyes are indeed a deep shade of purple. Interesting, that.
It is indeed something piquing Scandal's curiosity, her gaze lingering a little longer than might be polite upon that unusual tone - perhaps trying to spot signs of contact lenses. "I fear that I do," she admits with a low laugh. "Though I am attempting to be at least marginally respectable, these days. And… yes. I speak a few languages, though I tend to stick to English here."
"Easier to do here, than elsewhere." Priscilla admits honestly, smiling. Nope, no sign at all of contact lenses at play here. "I confess, I've always found the social mores of 'respectable' to be quite a stretch. I aim instead for 'responsible,' since I can't control what anyone else will choose to respect or not."
Laughing softly as she shakes her head, Scandal cracks another grin. "Trying to be responsible for oneself is certainly a good start… and more than many ever seem to manage. Respectability can be remarkably elusive, however. And often of dubious use. But it is currently… helpful for me to at least *try* to maintain a degree of it. Hence, in part, being here. I can at least give myself the *option* of being seen to 'fit in'."
Pris nods at Scandal's point and her grin turns truly wry with a twist. "Oh, definitely elusive. Though somehow my adoptive mother manages it in spite of a host of things I would have imagined would prevent it." And she's not complaining. Just amazed. "Still, I respect your efforts to make the attempt, however valiant they may be. Given my lines of work, it's largely a futile thing for me." Yes. She said lines. Plural. But she isn't - yet - explaining what those might be. "I wish you a lot of luck with your studies, Scandal." There's a real tone of honor, there, a depth of feeling that seems to surpass the words for some reason that hasn't been explained.
Arching a brow, Scandal cocks her head as she smiles at her companion. "Thank you," she says warmly. "I appreciate the good wishes. It is rather strange to go from my own past endeavours to things like set reading lists and essay deadlines. But as often as I find it frustrating, I find myself relishing the different nature of the challenge. Which has certainly been welcome to confirm, however successful or not I might be in my attempts to seem marginally respectable."
The purple-eyed dancer smiles widely at that. "I admit, I never imagined I would like reading, let alone ever be any good at it. That changed, and it's pretty bewildering." Not that she feels a need to explain why, but she gets it. "I don't know that I'll ever do the organized schooling thing again, given my experiences. But I support and applaud those that do. Like my sister." Or now Scandal.
Scandal chuckles, lips quirking into another wry little smile. "Thank you. And… I have tended to enjoy learning. Doing so *on command* has often posed problems. I have a tendency to resent it, even when the topic itself is of interest. I hope that I can avoid succumbing to such inclinations in this case. Studying part-time allows for more variety in my life, of course… but it does carry the risk of dragging things out beyond the limits of my patience. It should be interesting finding out how well I cope with being obedient."
Priscilla chuckles darkly at that. "Obedient? Yeah, I've never been good at that. I guess you could say I never had anyone around I thought was worthy of that kind of respect, and they usually proved me more right than wrong?" She shrugs. If Emma asked her to be obedient, she very well might do it. But Emma likely never will. She doesn't need to, it seems. "I wish you a lot of luck with it, Scandal."
"Thank you," Scandal says again - as warmly and wryly amused as the last time. "I hope that I don't need too much luck… but I fear that I might. Good wishes are appreciated. Should I ask what lines of work you are involved in? Or just wish you well with them without further detail?"
Priscilla chuckles. "Well, you could do either, I guess. Depends whether you actually want to know." Polite and friendly, Pris follows her own rules for such things, not any 'manners' books or official guides.
A surprised little laugh precedes Scandal cracking a swift grin. "Now I am most assuredly curious. Though I feel a little unfair in asking: my own work has tended to be bound up in confidentiality agreements. The joys of being a consultant for hire."
Pris laughs at that quite brightly. "No consultant gigs for me." She shrugs. "Honestly, most people take one look at me and my fashion sense and guess right on the money. Emma would call me an 'exotic dancer'. I don't tend to put on airs, though. I'm just a stripper. A really good, really talented stripper." And one apparently not blessed with an overabundance of shyness, or humility.
Laughing happily, Scandal's grin returns - and more broadly so than before. "Now I understand your quest for respectability," she risks teasing. "But I should probably refrain from asking *where* you dance. I doubt that the campus shop is supposed to be used as a recruiting ground for other businesses. Even by someone so modest and retiring as yourself."
Pris laughs brightly at that, and glances around visibly, just to check. "Well, we've already settled that I don't tend to follow the rules very well." She winks at Scandal. "You can look for the Obsidian Club, on the Lower East Side." Should she not do that? Too bad! "Modest and retiring, that's me."
"Absolutely, yes," Scandal agrees dryly. "No one could possibly venture to suggest otherwise." She winks, then chuckles and shakes her head. "Well… I should probably find something to buy, before you finish stacking up the contents of the shop. Have you found anything you would particularly recommend?"
Priscilla eyes Scandal critically for a few long moments, and then eyes her pile of gear. "It would be a shame to replace that jacket. So … let's go with one of these, as a lounging nightshirt, and one of these as a semi-casual top." The first of those being the purple and white oversized loose-fitting button-front 'jersey'-style top Pris was looking at, though one in Scandal's sizes (Pris seems to be preternaturally good at getting that right) and the second is an all-purple women's NYU polo shirt. "What do you think?"
Scandal chuckles, before flashing another broad grin. "And a *nightshirt* would help me to fit in, would it?", she asks. "Ha. It has a definite ironic appeal, to be sure. Very well." She accepts the offered items, formally inclining her head. "I am in your debt."
Pris chuckles and shakes her head. "No debt, Scandal. Just enjoy it, OK?" She winks and then gathers up her pile of intended purchases, turning to head towards the checkout counters. "The nightshirt is to wear at home, to help yourself start to feel the colors." And perhaps to show to whomever it is Scandal thinks is judging her that her choice is not just for out in public as a show? Damn insightful empaths!
Scandal follows Pris towards the counter, chuckling again - and perhaps fortunately quite unaware of any extra-sensory monitoring of her state of mind. That tightly-controlled ball of rage is still there, though it's currently firmly masked by much warmer sentiments of surprised amusement… and gratitude. "I shall endeavour to do so. Thank you."
Priscilla arrives at the counter and lays out her intended purchases, and then pulls out a check card; apparently she can actually foot this entire bill, which rather implies she is making a heck of a lot more money than one would usually expect of a stripper, if she can foot this bill so casually. Whether or not Scandal catches the rest of the name on the card - 'Priscilla K Frost' - or not. "You're welcome." she offers Scandal.
Scandal has some notion of how well-paid featured performers can be, thanks to the kinds of venues she frequents for her own recreational habits, and thus takes it as implicit confirmation of Pris's earlier 'modesty' rather than a surprise in its own right. "And you have made this a rather less daunting and more entertaining venture than I had anticipated," she informs the dancer. "I hope to bump into you again."
"I hope so, too, Scandal." Priscilla responds, as she turns to give the woman another handshake and a little wink. Then she gathers up her bags and makes for the exit. "Have fun! It's the only thing that's worth all the effort."