Private Airspace

Summary:
November 27 2014: A chance encounter high in the sky leads to a philisophical conversation

Airspace

New York Airspace, high above northern New York.


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
[* None]


Rowan is flying… as a dragon. Which might be notable but he's over a part of New York that isn't really that populated. State parks don't tend to be. The land below him is… small, peaceful. Rather pretty. Up ahead though is something that has him curious. It's a collection of clouds that he could have sworn weren't there ten minutes ago. The dragon isn't in a huge hurry after all so he's not moving that fast. Still… might be worth looking into

The clouds hadn't been there ten minutes ago. They are there now because Ororo called them to her. Hidden in amongst the thick mist, Storm lets the winds gently hold her up. Being up here is peaceful, allowing a person to reflect in a way that even a quiet room down on terra firma cannot. The slight change in the wind currents lets Ororo know that something is approaching her hideaway. Something big. Very big. As Rowan approaches, the clouds start to dissapate to let her see what is coming. Her eyes flare white.

-

Rowan, or rather a large red dragon with six feathered wings pulls up short, into a hover, and cants his horned head. He's familiar with the fact that surfacers fly and… wait a minute. He knows this particular one. Met her once on the beach… in the rain. "Storm?" As a dragon Rowan's voice is deeper and more resonant and has lizardlike undertones to it, but it's still recognizably his.

-

Storm sees the dragon as it approaches, eyeing it warily. She wants to believe it is a friend, but one can never be too careful. It then uses her name, or at least her heroic name, and that voice sounds familiar. "Yes, I am Storm," she replies. "We have met?" It is not so much a question as a statement. Her hair billows about her head with the breeze that swirls about her.

-

"We have… I'm called Rowan." He's fairly sure he introduced himself when they met. He's still floating in the air, hovering, not daring to get any closer. A woman who can control weather like this is probably not to be trifled with. At alls.

-

When he states his name, there is a hint of a smile on her face. "Ah, the one who juggles lightning. It is a pleasure to meet you again. You look significantly different." She looks him over with an eye for more detail, nodding slowly in what seems to be approval. Clouds start to form again, this time around them both. "I hope you do not have too much trouble when flying in your current form. I know there are many, like myself, that would investigate a dragon flying about."

-

"Being a four winged man doesn't exactly afford immunity to that either…" Rowan chuckles looking about with his delicately pointed face as the clouds form around them again. "What brings you up here?" He pauses. "Hiding perhaps? Is someone causing you trouble?"

-

Once again there is that hint of a smile, Ororo's blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Luckily for you, there are plenty of mutants and aliens that are capable of flight, so that isn't too unusual a sight." She shakes her head when asked if she is having trouble. "No, no one has caused me any sort of difficulties. I came up here to think. Sometimes, it is nice to so float on the wind and let ones mind wander. It is very much like meditation."

-

It's a bit more work for Rowan since he has to flap wings. But then, he has six of them, so perhaps it's not too bad. "And what kinds of things does one come up so high to think about?" If you want to be alone there's few better places to do it. Perhaps… Antarctica might also work, but it's a lot further away. And colder.

-

Not that the cold actually bothers Storm, however she isn't able to fly so fast as to make it convenient. "About the future, both of my own and of mutantkind. About whether or not where I am now is in the best interest of said mutantkind or if I should perhaps turn to a different direction. What about yourself, Rowan? What brings you to the skies?"

-

"I've missed flying. As this." It's odd to see a dragon shrug. "Also it gives me a chance to think. Much like swimming. But in the air." He chuckles, having heard that Queen Mera described flying like that once. "I have noticed that the differences between humanity at large and mutantkind seem to be stark. It is unusual to me. There were no mutants on my world. Or very few at any rate."

-

"Swimming, but in the air. Perhaps for yourself. For me it is more allowing the wind to carry me where I wish to go. Propelling me, as it were." She looks down to the world below, hazy through the cloud cover. "There are more and more all the time. Mutants, that is. I wish there was some way to make people see that we really are no different from everyone else. Not where it matters."

-

"It has been my observation." Says the dragon unironically. "That people fear what seems to be different. Your mutants gather in communities and school themselves in secret. It is as if it is not enough that they possess abilities stranger or more far reaching than the rest of the world, but then also take pains to separate themselves from the mass of surface dwellers at large. It is not great surprise then, that fear is the response and with fear comes hatred."

Yes, Rowan did just say the plight of mutants is largely their own fault.

-

The look on Ororo's face can only be described as delight. She smiles and sighs with relief. "Exactly! Thank you. I have been trying to make that point for years. Things like the Burning Human festival really do nothing *for* mutants as a community. All successful attempts at inclusion into 'normal' society through history, were through showing how the one group was really no different then the other."

-

"It is difficult for your… mutants, as it would be for me, to say that you are no different, though, when you demonstrably are." The Dragon tilts his head back and brings and arm up under his muzzle, thinking. "Hrm. By which I mean to say, here you are, floating in the clouds. Do this and say that you are no different and your appeals will fall on deaf ears. You are different and surfacers have made an art out of knowing and defining differences. What you must show is that your similarities are greater and this is not easy. At least in the history of the world I came from." He shrugs. "But it has been done. To show that you mean no harm, that you are willing to suffer pain and privation and sorrow along with them, these things will matter."

-

"Ah, you are correct. Allow me to correct myself. We are different, yes, but our similiarities are far more numerous and substantial. We love, we laugh, we cry. We want to be loved in return. We have hopes and dreams. The average person is not able to run a five minute mile, but that is no reason to hate an Olympic athelete that can."

-

"Jealousy is an ugly thing." Rowan says, quietly. "But I do hope you find an answer…" He looks down again at the world drifting below them. "But I fear it will not be easy, either for you or the people you wish to convince." Still, nothing worthwhile ever is easy. Sadly.

-

"Like true love, the path to anything worth having is never an easy one," says Storm, as if reading Rowan's mind. There is a silence shared amongst the pair for a brief moment, enjoying the quiet of being up here where only the birds visit, when there is a beeping on one of her metal gauntlets. With a sigh, Storm fingers a button to stop the beeping. "Alas, my quiet time seems to be over. It was good to see you again, Rowan. We should juggle lightning together sometime." The clouds start to disipate and she flies off, down towards the ground.


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