Skating in the Rain
Roleplaying Log: Skating in the Rain
IC Details

At a skate park, Drake Riley meets someone interesting. Welcome to the world, Drake!

Other Characters Referenced: Junes
IC Date: May 02, 2019
IC Location: New York City
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 03 May 2019 02:18
Rating & Warnings: PG13
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits: Secret
Associated Plots


Not really, it's still spring, but you couldn't tell from the heatwave that's going on in New York City. There's even a few places that have busted out the sprinklers! One of them is a local skateboard park, which sounds like an AWFUL idea!

Water sprinkling down from a few carefully-tossed sprinklers, boarders are avoiding the hoses adroitly and laughing. Most of them are wearing a bit less than they really should, though nobody's actually topless yet. All in all, a fun place to be on a hot Thursday afternoon after dinner.

There are some kids watching from the sidelines, looking jealous, though even they occasionally get splashed. Not everyone is rich enough to have a board though. Or maybe it's something else; everyone's story is different. And here? Here they're all equal. If you have a board, you can play.

If not? Well, you can still play.


Some things had to be left behind. Locations. People. Activities. Drake's favorite thing to do was hit the beach. But beaches around New York City weren't exactly choice, were they? He hasn't quite come to terms with it. But upon finding a skate park, he's opted to indulge a bit. He had enough money to spring for a board. Nothing fancy. Hell, he might even suck at it now! But rolling through sprinklers sounds like a nice enough way to forget about how weird life's turned.

And so, here he is - spry youth more toned and trim than anyone his age normally should be, but with all the pep and zeal one might expect of an upbeat teen. Wearing white slacks, a conforming black tanktop, and breezy white button-up worn open with rolled sleeves, he and his basic black board looks like it may have rolled straight out of the 90s. But when you've found your style, you rock it. That's the West Coast way. And for what it's worth, he doesn't suck as bad as he thought he might! He bobs, weaves, and spins the board on its tail to avoid a waterjet before rolling onwards. And then he has to abruptly divert direction in order to avoid a collision, and all the style points he may have been getting are entirely lost. He stumbles off his board, and the plank rolls unerringly towards the group of wallflowers.

"Heads-up!," he calls with a sheepish smile, trotting after it.


The kids scatter, mostly used to the hazards of playing on the edge here. Two of them run right across the zone, right through a sprinkler, while another catches the board for Drake. No hard feelings, it seems.

"Nice moves. Not bad, I mean," says a guy who's hanging around by the edge, holding a beat-up board of his own. Battle damage, it's seen some use. No shirt, he's just leaning there waiting for inspiration. Or watching the girls, but he'd never admit it.

As the kid runs Drake's board over to him. Kid looks about ten, female, missing a tooth.

There's a small commotion over by the wall mount, but nobody's getting hurt. Bit of laughter.


Drake Riley would offer exactly zero judgment for checking out the local talent. It's not like it's gone unnoticed by him, either. But that wasn't his focus here! He just wanted to cut loose, to relax; escapism. So the dude-bro gets a perky upnod from Drake as he chases his board.

Halting abruptly as an approximate ten-year-old female offers his board to him, Drake gives the girl a lopsided grin. "Thanks," he offers easily before taking it back.

As he turns to prepare to re-enter the fray, the commotion catches his attention. If no one is getting wrecked, however, it doesn't warrant intrusions. Right? He drops the board and steps up onto it, starting at a lazy glide. And yet, his focus remains on the commotion, effectively rubbernecking.


The guy being mostly ignored isn't an issue; low-stress is kind of their jam, and Drake is fitting right in. There are some odd comments he picks up, but it's probably nothing, as he coasts through a jet right past some of the girls in question.

"The ghost is here!" he picks up clearly. Likely some famous boarder, someone with a rep. Sounds like a street name. The girls giggle as he passes, but they also seem to return their gaze to the mounting wall, where you go for the high jumps.

Then it hits him, as he looks that direction. There's someone on top, a smallish person in brown, who HE CAN SEE THROUGH! Not a joke, there's ..a ghost. At the skate park, and the kids seem amused, not scared.

Female, looks about their age, laying on her stomach with her chin propped on her hands. Staying out of the way, but quite visible. And smiling.


Vivid emerald eyes track from person to person, following the trajectory of their focused attention from group to individual, and finally up the wall. There's a girl up there, smiling. Awh. She's kind'a cute! But what's going on with her? Is she wearing really oily sunscreen or something?

He squints against the failing light of the late afternoon.

No, a bird flew behind her. But he could still kind of see it. Motion behind her. Through her? Can he see through her?

He blinks. Holy crap, did they mean a literal /ghost/?!



The skateboard came to an abrupt end with it collided with the broad side of a ramp, launching the thoroughly distracted Drake forward. He manages to let out a startled yelp before he lands against the ramp's decline, and awkwardly rolls down the slope until he ends in an embarrassed heap.


The expected laughter comes, though a girl runs up to help Drake out. "You okay?" she asks. She's grinning; in fact, nearly everyone is watching HIM now, knowing smirks on their faces. "I take it you saw her. We watch the newbies, it's hilarious when they spot her the first time."

Blonde, short, wearing a 'I hate cars' tank top. As, up on the wall, a guy on his board goes right through the ghost without missing a beat. Literally passes through her brown head. Brown skin, brown eyes. Sad eyes, though she's smiling.

What is going on?

"You alright?"


Drake Riley props himself up on his elbows, cheeks rouged in self-conscious embarrassment. He was immediately aware that every eye /had/ to be on him now. And while he's typically fine being the center of attention, he usually prefers it be on his terms. Still, it seemed to net him a thoughtful female intervention. At least that's something. "Uh, yeah." The girl gets a helpless, boyish smile. "Is it too late to say 'zoinks'?" Scooby-Doo jokes feel appropriate here.

The teen picks himself up and dusts off his outer-wear with a few swats. "That girl's not, like, /literally/ a ghost, right?," he finally asks. He points up at her, "And if so? Why isn't anyone else freaked out by this?"

Right now, he suspects she's a girl with an unusual mutation. Ghosts aren't a thing, you bunch of sillies.


Girl with no name says, "Dunno. Seems to be, she started showing up about a week ago." No lessening of the grin, she takes Drake's hand if he wants it and helps him up. "Go up and ask her, she doesn't talk. Not much, I mean. You'll see."

She pushes her board down and hops on it, then calls back, "I'm Junes bee tee dubb!" Then she's holding it and doing the jumps, handstand time!

Upstairs, the ghost is apparently amusing someone by putting her hand through the concrete. With no visible damage to hand or concrete. It gets smiles; suppose if you're a ghost, you get cred points on auto.


While the ghost plays the popularity game on easy mode, Drake is helped to his feet by 'Junes'. He lifts a hand in acknowledgment/farewell to her, though he's absolutely distracted by the prospect of chatting up an odd mutant girl. It's to the latter he now turns, peering up at her.

When Drake ascends to the wall, he finally gets a solid look at the 'ghost' girl. And for a while, he just stares. Openly. Unabashedly. Those bright emerald eyes scarcely even blink. But finally, he lifts a hand to her, fingers vaguely spreading.



And there, Drake gets the answer to one of his questions from earlier. Why isn't anyone freaking out? It's the eyes.

The girl is brown, from head to toe. Brown hair, brown skin, brown clothes, looks like a skintight bodysuit in brown with a cool racey-cut trenchcoat. But those eyes…they go on forever. It's like looking into happiness, warmth and a smile; it's literally impossible for the owner of those eyes to be bad. Kids know it instantly. Adults might take longer, but it's almost a wave of peace. It's a power, blatant and obvious.

Good thing she seems to actually be nice, from the looks she's giving everyone.

Then her voice comes out, and it gets weird again. Because she only says one word. "Secret.



Apropos of nothing, Drake says that. His eyes are transfixed on hers; studying her. Processing. Is it a mental power? Is she projecting an illusion? Have the X-Men ever encountered something like this before? He can't be sure. But it's hard to resist the sense of… well, 'pleasantness' from her. She seems kind. And if he's being fair, despite her odd tint, /is/ kind'a cute. Neither here nor there.


Wait, what?

"I- ah- wha? I don't- I mean- you just- wha-?" She isn't asking him for secrets right off the bat, is she!? And the only secret he really has is his affiliation to the X-Men and his status as a mutant!


A light frown touches her cheeks. Seems like she's made some kind of error, but Drake only heard the one word. There's something odd though, almost as if there's something deeper, if he had time to listen. But listening, that brings something else to mind.

The sound of boards, rolling wheels. Action, activity. Incoming wheels, and the ghost turns to look behind her. And, as obvious as on any human, the look of panic on her face is sudden and awful. She stands up like a shot, reaching to grab as a boarder comes OVER the wall, coming for where Drake is at! And she calls out, "SECRET!" in her wispy voice, trying for all her might to catch him.

Guy goes right through, spotting Drake and bailing off the board. This is gonna hurt; he wasn't ready for someone to be standing down there!


Drake Riley has gone and made her frown. He doesn't like that. But at the same time, what did she expect? Can't just ask a guy to give up all his secrets! That's part of what makes a man! Mulan said so.

But then she goes and repeats the word - more panicked this time? Without having any time to process further, there's a guy suddenly vaulting into view! He abandons his board, but seems ready to drop. Without giving it a second thought, he dives forward to reach out for his wrists, dangling over the wall to attempt catching him and preventing a hard impact.


Time almost slows. Adrenalin will do that, and Drake reaches in bullet time. Snags the wrist, likely popping it out of joint. Minor loss, but the weight of the guy's inertia is enough to drag him. It's iffy for a moment, but it's only a moment indeed.

They the guy's hanging against the wall, being lowered down by his friends who're gathering around. It's the laid back guy from earlier, likely was just out for a jump through the spray. "Oww!" Well no kidding…

It's over as fast as it started, and he's already up and bitching about things. Holding his wrist, where Drake saved him, possibly saved his life. Thankfully you'll never know.


Indeed, this is a good outcome. There's regret over what he could feel was a jacked-up wrist, but it's better than the alternative. Drake releases him to his friends and leans back from the edge with a frown. Was that on him? Did he cause that? "Maybe I shouldn't be up here," he reflects.

Standing again, he looks back to the 'ghost' girl. "I'm gonna, uh.. head back down. Didn't mean to treat you like a sideshow or anything. Just wanted to see," he pauses, brow knit. "..which just makes it sound like I was doing that exact thing. Sorry, uh, whoever you are."


But she's not there. Drake is talking to the air, until he spots her again, the soft "Secret" spoken to give her away. Her head, poking out of the wall, downstairs, as if she had the same thought. She waves, though just kind of sadly, half-imbedded in a concrete wall.

Then, out of nowhere, a thought. Not his own, more of a half-thought springing into his mind unbidden. ~Would have died,~ it thinks, as her eyes meet his. Then, ~I know.~

Sad eyes, hiding secrets.


Drake Riley was talking to nothing. Oops. Well, that's embarrassing. And when he realizes it, his head whips one way, then the next, searching for her. It isn't until he prepares to simply head back down and abandon things that he sees her half-poking through the wall. She still looks sad. Why does she always look so sad?

Thoughts intrude on his own, and thankfully, he's become somewhat accustomed to telepaths by now. But what that telepathic message conveys gets a curious tilt of his head. He isn't even sure what to ask to try to get clarity.

Instead, he climbs down to even his height more with her.

"Are you okay?," he asks, perhaps dumbly. He knows it's a little ironic to ask of a 'ghost', but the persistent sadness is eating away at him more than anything.


Not telepathy. Drake is experienced enough to know, so it would become clear. This has a different flavour, an accent somehow. Magic, not psionics. Not projected, but simply appearing, and not even in a language, but understood regardless.

What can she say though? "Secret," she says aloud. Why the girl Junes said that the ghost 'doesn't talk much' likely. She only has one word. Talk about a quiet date! But why the sadness? She looks at the kids, walking away, starting to play again, and retreats further into the wall.

Unable to touch, watching from the outside. Darkness. Any fame she may have in this small skate park, she'd give it all up to ride a skateboard. Just once.

Then only her right hand is coming out of the wall, offering to touch Drake's. But it seems she's going. Enough sadness for today.


Drake Riley is still struggling to make heads or tails of this, and hearing the word again only intensifies his confusion. "She like a Pokemon or something..?," he murmurs to himself. He's not trying to be insulting. He just struggles with holding back on jokes, however potentially inappropriate.

She sinks further into the wall. His eyes widen. "Ah-!" Her hand is offered out, and he scrambles forward on impulse. Carefully balancing against the uneven ground, he reaches out to try to grab her hand. He hasn't thought it through. He didn't have time to. The only thing he could think to do is take her hand and pull her back out of the wall and to safety.


Nothing. Mist, a feeling of coolness on the skin. Like grabbing an illusion, Drake's hand passes through and touches the wall, which somehow is hot underneath his fingers. As the sprinkler sends a wave of raindrops down over them, the hand slips back. Through his, into the wall, and she's gone.

And the world goes on around them, the boy getting his wrist bound so he can do another try at the 180 he was aiming for. Junes walking over, board under her left arm, to see if Drake's alright. Chatter, life.

Nothing. But at least he tried.

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