[Eastboro] Rainy Day

<u_Amy> [You put the call for participants everywhere you could find. Craigslist, the community bulletin board at the coffeehouse, that pinboard near the community college, /everywhere/.]
<u_Amy> [And yet nobody's here but you.]
<u_Amy> [You should've expected it, really. Not very many people will take time out of a rainy Wednesday morning for a counterprotest.]
<u_Amy> [And yet there's something like eight people in front of you in the protest proper, and it's all you can do not to just]
<u_Amy> [leave]
<u_Amy> [Your airhorn finally dies with a last, drawn-out dying-elephant squak, and you sigh and toss it in the general direction of the nearest trashcan.]
<u_Amy> [It bounces back out.]
<u_Amy> ["All right, cool, if we're doing it that way." You trudge over, boots squeaking, pick it up, and toss it back in.]
<u_Amy> ["Just so you know, that doesn't mean I'm leaving," you holler to the assorted church people standing in front of the shop they're protesting.]
<u_Amy> [You don't really pay attention to what they say back.]
<u_Amy> [It's not like paying attention to them will do anything, to be fair. You can't exactly argue theology eight-against-one.]
<u_Amy> [Really, the point of you being there at all is to let people know that the church isn't going to go unchallenged.]
<u_Amy> [There /was/ someone, earlier, that took a few pictures and interviewed you for the newspaper, but they spent longer with the church people and they're gone now.]
<u_Amy> [So your hopes aren't exactly up or anything like that.]
<u_Amy> [But you walk back and hold your sign high anyway.]
<u_Amy> [No point doing this by halves.]
<u_Cyma> [It is a miserable day. You're surprised that there are /any/ protesters out today - you wouldn't be, if you didn't need something from that shop. You're heckled, as you leave - told that your parents would be ashamed of you if they knew where you were, that your soul is in danger by entering such a godless store.]
<u_Cyma> [You know they're wrong. It's hard to keep your hackles from going up anyways.]
<u_Cyma> [The lone girl standing away from them, with a /different/ sign, though - she gets your attention.]
<u_Amy> [The sign, specifically, says something along the lines of "THIS IS WHAT YOU CALL LOVE AND TOLERANCE?"]
<u_Amy> [You look at the other girl grimacing as she leaves the shop. You catch her eye.]
<u_Amy> ["So, uh. What brings you?"]
<u_Cyma> [Go over to her. Shrug awkwardly. "Had to pick up something for some of my lessons." Not all alchemy supplies are sold at Sally's, much as you'd prefer to shop just there. This shop also sells rather nice baking supplies, including a range of allergy-friendly ingredients.]
<u_Cyma> ["Miserable day to be out. I'm surprised any of /them/ are here."]
<u_Cyma> [Unspoken is the question of why Amy is here.]
<u_Amy> [You assume Cyma's either an amateur chemist (which is what you assume the alchemy supplies are for) or learning baking. "Always nice to learn to do something new."]
<u_Amy> ["They're cowards, you know that? It doesn't exactly take balls to gang up and take potshots at how Catherine and Jason's poor deluded daughter is off straying from the path of the stardust-fucking Lord."]
<u_Amy> ["If that helps any."]
<u_Amy> [You lapse into silence.]
<u_Cyma> ["...it does, yeah. A bit." You consider something carefully.]
<u_Cyma> ["There's supposed to be a meeting, in a while. To talk about this," head-jerk towards the group of protesters, "maybe figure out how to deal with it. You wanna come?"]
<u_Cyma> [Consider the sad girl, in rain.]
<u_Cyma> ["There'll be free food, if that helps any."]
<u_Amy> ["...Sure. Is it a potluck I should bring anything to?"]
<u_Cyma> [Shake your head. "Nah. Food's provided by the diner that's hosting."]
<u_Cyma> ["You don't have to bring anything."]
<u_Amy> ["When is this meeting?"]
<u_Cyma> ["Couple hours from now. Should be some hot chocolate and tea, too. And they make a /really/ good soup."]
<u_Amy> ["I'm not working tonight, so sure."]
<u_Amy> [One of the few perks of being an underemployed twentysomething: you have a lot of free time for things like running around holding signs. Or standing around holding signs. And you /are/ tired of the third night of cabbage soup leftovers.]]
<u_Cyma> ["Cool. You know where the diner is?" Dig through the pockets of your red hoodie - now a darker red than usual, with the rain; you know you've got one of the flyers that was being handed around.]
<u_Amy> ["Diner?" You take the flyer, stick the sign under your armpit and hold the flyer under the sign so it doesn't get any damper than it already is, and read it quickly, then fold it in quarters and stuff it in your pocket.]
<u_Cyma> ["Yep." The flyer gives the time and address. There's some coded language encouraging cryptids to show up, but nothing that would be explicitly tagged as odd by a mundane who isn't in the know.]
<u_Amy> [You are, as it so happens, a mundane. A mundane who is rather proud to be a skeptic, in point of fact. So that obviously flies completely over your head.]
<u_Amy> [The whooshing noise it makes is just the storm, I promise.]
<u_Amy> ["You don't mind introducing me to this... Bay City Community Improvement Project, right? I don't know anyone there."]
<u_Cyma> [Nod. "I'll introduce you, yeah." Offer a smile. It's genuine, if damp. "I think folks'll be glad to meet you, mostly."]
<u_Amy> ["...mostly?"]
<u_Amy> [Okay, /that/ makes you nervous.]
<u_Cyma> ["Well, Icrono might grief you, but he's an asshole."]
<u_Cyma> ["Also, pretty sure Adam'll be happy to meet you, and he's one of the local leaders. So." Shrug.]
<u_Amy> ["Oh. Okay. I still think I'll show up," you say. "Just because I can protest by myself doesn't mean I /like/ doing it."]
<u_Cyma> [Nod. "Like I said - I think folks'll be glad to meet you. I didn't know that /anyone/ was protesting." Not anyone on the mundie side, anyways.]
<u_Amy> ["Well," you say, "someone had to be the first."]
<u_Amy> ["...Did I ever get your name?"]
<u_Cyma> ["Cyma Dalyce," you offer cheerfully enough. A local family, the Dalyces - but not one that mixes with the church. They move in a different circle, but they do homeschool - which leads to /some/ intermixing, between the other local families who homeschool.]
<u_Amy> [You vaguely recognize the name. "All right. I'll see you in a few hours, then, Cyma."]
<u_Amy> ["Amy Smithson," you offer, for your own name. The Smithsons are a church family, the kind that seeded the population of the private school the church opened up almost a generation ago. Amy Smithson is, however, very loudly /not/ a church daughter.]
<u_Amy> [She went to college and came back a flaming atheist.]
<u_Amy> [If this was a smaller town everyone would have heard of this. As it is, her name is well-known in the church and the newspapers and somewhat less so on the outside.]
<u_Cyma> [So naturally, you have no idea who she is.]
<u_Cyma> [Offer her your hand. "It's nice to meet you, Amy."]
<u_Amy> [Okay, sure, you'll shake hands.]
<u_Cyma> [Hands are shaken. If thunder rumbles, it is really and truly only because of the rain.]
<u_Cyma> ["I'll see you at the diner, then."]
<u_Amy> ["Mm-hm. I'll be there when I'm done with... whatever I'm doing here." You gesture vaguely towards the protesting church people. One of them calls you a demon-consorter, and you stick your tongue out at them in response.]
<u_Cyma> [Your equally-mature response is to half-turn and thumb your nose at them.]
<u_Amy> [This is going to be a beautiful friendship.]
<u_Amy> [Clearly.]
<u_Cyma> ["If you need bailing out 'cause you gave one of them the thumping upside the head they deserve, call," you rattle off your cell phone number. "I'll get Adam to come bail you out."]
<u_Amy> [You scribble down the number quickly in an address book - wait, who uses address books nowadays? - and nod. "I'm not really into the violence thing."]
<u_Cyma> [Someone who might lose their cellphone, is who. Clearly. "Okay. You've got more patience than me, I guess."]
<u_Amy> ["I don't know if running out and protesting the day after I hear that the protests exist is "more patience", but thank you for the compliment."]
<u_Cyma> ["Not hitting them when they're being jerks is, though," you note. Shift on your feet. "I gotta get going, sorry - I'm expected back home soon."]
<u_Amy> ["See you later, then."]
<u_Cyma> [Wave to her. "Later." You can't exactly get her scent right now - not without being /obvious/ about it - but you'll see her later, where it's dry. For now, you head off towards Cassie's house, humming to yourself.]
<u_Amy> [As the girl hurries away in the rain, you pull your hood closer and reflect that maybe, just maybe, next time you do this someone will be with you.]
<u_Amy> [[Scene.]]