[nyc] supermassive black hole. [tag; ashley]

The rain was torrential, dowsing the entire city with sheets of continuous water. The sky was an odd shade, somewhere between the purple of a bruise and the blackness of the night. The wind was whipping up, strong and unrelenting as it battered the sprawling city. For summer in New York, it was unusually cold. Gone was the suffocating heavy air, the traffic fumes and the humidity and in its place was now a gale that was splashing up water from the broken roads.

Farley sprinted down the street, the rubber soles of her boots splattering the water that had filled up in the cracks of the pavement as she leaped across a steam grate. She wasn't a native New Yorker by any means. It was a hundred miles away from the dinky little beach town she'd always called home but since relocating to London, she was hoping she could handle it. Sort of. Farley needed a break. She was making mistakes at work, she ran into her boyfriend's new girlfriend, she was making a moron out of herself when she was around Harlan and she'd had enough. Of everything in that stupid dirty town.

Around her, people's umbrellas were turning inside out as the wind dragged them down the street. Car horns blared as people began to get stressed by the downright apocalyptic nature of today's weather. The sky was turning steadily darker as the petite girl made her way down the street, the collar of her leather jacket turned up against the cold as she discarded her now soggy newspaper that she'd been covering her hair with into a nearby bin with a dull clang!

"Jesus," Farley gasped with wide eyes as she gave the heavy door to a record store a shove and stumbled through it. She panted as she stared out of the window, her pale fingers attempting to wring out the water from her hair as she turned and squelched her way down the rows of music. Inside was warm and quiet, the only sound she could hear was the soft strains of an unfamiliar song playing through the speaker system.

Out of sight of the owner, Farley gingerly peeled off her soaking wet leather jacket as her pretty face contorted in distaste. Once sure she was alone, she hastily cast a drying charm on her jacket and herself as goosebumps rose on her skin at the change in temperatures. The storm wasn't forecast and it was gathering strength in a frightening way.

The secretary idly thumbed through the rows of music, flicking back and forth over familiar and unfamiliar covers. She'd come all this way to find her father a birthday gift but she'd been unsuccessful. What did you get a man who had everything anyway? Something caught her eye swiftly and she stepped over, plucking out a record and she found herself smiling. Bob Dylan. Not her favourite but her dad was a big fan. Like most dads, he enjoyed tinkering around with things and he'd managed to put together some sort of record player.

On she walked. Her big blue eyes cast a dubious glance at the lights over head as they flickered worryingly. Out of habit, Farley's fingers curled around the vinyl as she hugged it to her chest in the same way a child would with a teddy bear. She was being stupid. She was twenty three now and twenty three was too old to be scared of a thunderstorm. Around her, she could hear a clock ticking at a steady pace as her fingers twitched, trying to force herself to relax. Just relax. It wasn't that bad. It was just a bit of wind and a bit of rain and --

Crack!

The store descended into darkness and Farley let out a squeak of horror. The music stopped as a rumble of thunder sounded like it was ripping the sky apart at the seams. There was muffled shouting around her but she stayed frozen to the spot, her heart hammering in her ears. The door was slammed shut, the electric mechanism short-circuiting as the streetlamps outside went off all at once. Everything was gloomy suddenly. Farley took short little breaths too quickly, her chest rising and falling as she felt the panic spreading across her body like a rash. A blackout, her brain realised, too late. Farley swallowed as she squinted, trying her hardest to adjust to the change in light as the slow realisation dawned on her that she was effectively trapped.  "…oh shit."


@Ashley Morigan

Home. Well, not really. Ashley had never called New York home, but it felt great to be back in America, if even for a short period of time. He’d been in England for too long. It felt like years. He was happy there, really, spending time with Cheyenne and Silas and showing them the world. He’d been busy with a few hunting trips that went well, and one which went disastrously poorly. He had needed to check in with the ministry, as he had been doing, but rather than the usual owl, this time they wanted him to come in person. Technically speaking, he was supposed to come in person every time, but he’d grown used to just sending an owl with his report. They were talking about transferring him to the British Ministry, if he didn’t come in, and he really didn’t want that. Despite living in England, he thought the American Ministry had better benefits, and he really did consider America to be his home. He hoped to move back after a little bit of time abroad, hopefully with a wife or girlfriend or something. Hopefully.

The weather was quite a bit like what he’d grown used to in London: cold, dreary, wet, and rainy. He had on a warm coat and an umbrella, but the winds were so strong he was having trouble with it, so he had dunked into a nearby store just to have some respite from the rain. It ended up being a record store. Ashley loved music but didn’t know much about vinyl, and had no record player at home, but he was enjoying looking around at what was in there while he dried off a bit and waited out the storm. He saw a pretty girl come in, but didn’t pay much attention to her until he saw her stealthily pull out a wand and dry her coat in the back of the shop. A witch then, in muggle New York? How interesting. Suddenly, he heard a loud crash of lightning and suddenly the store went black. Really? How great. Ashley would usually light up his wand, but he was surrounded by muggles. He moved closer to the girl, glad for some wizarding company. He didn’t recognize her at first, which was a shame because the two had been involved when he was in school and they both worked for MACUSA. Still, she seemed like she changed her hair or something, so he didn’t notice much other than that she was pretty and a witch.

“Tough luck in here, right?” He asked, coming up beside her. “If only this wasn’t a no-maj shop, amiright?” He said, dropping the cue for her to recognize him as a fellow wizard. It wasn’t the subtlest of clues, either, but no one else would understand what he was talking about, anyway. “You think we’re locked in?” There weren’t many others in the shop to begin with.

Farley stood stock-still as she blinked. It felt like a dream, like reality had somehow been altered. Had she been smarter, she'd realise that the weather had probably caused this. Maybe a generator had been affected but in the moment, the panic was rising. Could she apparate out of here? It was dark and everyone was preoccupied. It was stupid but she suddenly wished she was carrying a flashlight like her grandmother told her to.

Then she jumped.

"Oh!" She gasped as a figure shrouded in darkness approached her. Farley stopped for second. Since relocating to the English capital, it was shocking how quickly she'd become accustomed to not speaking, smiling or making eye contact with anyone around her. "Right," she finally replied, shakily, as her brain kicked into gear. Tough luck, indeed.

Farley's head snapped upwards as she looked at him sharply. Her big blue eyes squinted at him curiously. She thought she'd done a pretty good job of blending in and in New York, there wasn't really any style rules. Then she backtracked; he must have seen her dry off. She parted her full lips to reply before she realised that she was standing face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend. Who…didn't recognise her.

Swiftly, her face flushed and she thanked her lucky stars that the lights were still off. She forced herself to swallow as her mouth became dry. Goodness, it had been what -- seven? Eight years since she'd seen him last? Farley chewed on her lower lip before making the decision. She wasn't going to embarrass him so she decided she wouldn't mention anything. "How did you --?" she began, pointing at herself as she non-verbally asked how he knew she was magical. Her finely groomed eyelashes knitted together in confusion but at least Ashley's reappearance had distracted her somewhat.

Locked in? Farley gave a nervous laugh. "I hope not," she added. "I'm not very good with --" a flash of lightning illuminated the store briefly and she flinched, placing her hand on her chest and recoiling on the spot. " -- that," she concluded glumly. She turned to look at him again. He still looked the same, tall, spare and handsome, like this was an every day occurrence for him. Maybe "boyfriend" was the wrong term to use. They were more a clandestine-clinch-in-the-Quodpod-supply-closet kinda thing.

A rumble of thunder seemed to shake the store to its very foundations as Farley ducked her head and peeked out of the window at the chaos outside. In her frightened state, she realised belatedly that she'd been gripping the record so tightly, it had cracked in two. "Crap," she muttered darkly as she looked down, the splintered plastic peeking out of the crumpled album cover. Stepping away, she just slotted into one of the spaces in a nearby shelf but now that her hands were free, they trembled slightly.

Chantal would be absolutely screaming at her if she could see her now. Her sophisticated French friend would totally be at her to step closer and into Ashley's orbit a little bit more but there was still the sting of shame at not being greeted that settled uneasily around her shoulders. She wasn't the same girl she'd been at Ilvermorny but that didn't really mean much.

"I think so," she went on, referring to his earlier question. "I hope you didn't have somewhere you needed to be," Farley joked with a soft smile. He seemed like the type of man who definitely needed to be somewhere else. She glanced at him again quickly. "Sorry," she added as she felt the need to apologise for her general being because naturally, everything was her fault. Normally, she'd introduce herself at this point but something was holding her back. She'd had rather enough of people thinking she was invisible and she didn't need to add another to the list. "Comic book fan?" She inquired casually, nodding to the level above that was stuffed to the rafters with books and graphic novels.

Ashley hadn’t meant to startle the girl, so he flushed a little when she jumped. “Ah, sorry.” He apologized. She looked mighty familiar, didn’t she? He couldn’t quite place it. It had been a long time since he’d been at school, and even longer since he’d really been involved with her. When it came to important relationships in his past, he thought primarily of Nadia, now Emily. He had never really been the commitment type before that, having dated girls off and on and hooked up with several more. He would have been embarrassed had he recognized her now, but at the moment ignorance was bliss.
 
“How did you…?” He grinned, feeling clever. “I saw you dry off. You were pretty subtle about it, but I could definitely tell. Besides, you’d just think I’m a nutter if you weren’t… you know.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I hope we’re not stuck here too long. I don’t really have anywhere to be, but you look like the busy type.” It was a compliment, really. She was too pretty to be standing around chit-chatting with him for any long period of time.  He looked down as she snapped the record, and felt bad.
 
“Nervous about storms?” He asked. “That’s natural.” He assured. He wished she wasn’t quite so tense, though. He didn’t know what about his presence had made her so  uncomfortable, but he felt guilty and rather like he ought to walk away. “Anyway I—“ He began, but stopped when she sked about the comics. This was a topic that Ashley knew all about.
 
“Oh yeah.” He agreed. “I love comic books and superheroes.” He admitted. He was a little nerdy about it. “I used to have quite the collection. What about you? Are you a fan? I suppose it’s kind of quirky to be into no-maj stuff, but I was raised around a bunch of ‘em so it never bothered me much.”
 
He cleared his throat. “I’m Ashley, by the way. Ashley Morigan.” It was around this time that he realized she was probably around his age, which meant she probably went to Ilver around the same time he did. He must have seen her before. That’s why he looked so familiar. Of course—wait, no way. “Well bless my eyes, Farley?” He asked. “I’m so sorry, I barely recognized you. It’s been so long.” Oh wow, did he feel bad. She probably thought he was an idiot. “Did you change your hair or something?” He asked, face red in a flush. He laughed. “Heh…”

His apology just earned him a watery smile. It wasn't just fault, she was just naturally jittery. She was about to apologise in return before Farley bit her lip. No. She made a promise to herself when she moved to the UK; stop being sorry for being yourself. Enough was enough.

"Oh," the petite brunette said, echoing her previous words as she laughed and turned pink. "Not subtle enough," she added lightly. Back home, her friends called her Worst Case Scenario Hoskins. It was a nickname she still hadn't been able to shake off since childhood.  If he'd seen her, who else had? Would she get into trouble, with either Ministry?

The more she wished not to blush, the deeper crimson she turned. That was a nice thing to be called. Busy. It made her seem like she had a social life and wasn't so boring and loser-ish. Her big dark eyes slid to the storm that didn't seem to be stopping. "Suddenly, being in here doesn't seem so bad." It could be considered flirtatious, had she been aware of what she'd just said. He didn't recognise her so now would be the ideal time to lay it on thick. She wanted to say that yeah, sure, she was busy. She had lunch reservations to get to, what a drag. She had plans for that evening, that she had some stuff to do, errands to run. A very small part of her wanted him to realise that she was fine, that she had her shit together, that she was effortlessly cool. She wanted to lie.

"Oh no, I'm fi--" with a gasp, she tensed up and covered her eyes with her hands. "Fine," she managed to say, her voice sounding squeaky and high pitched. With her nerves still jangling, Farley offered Ashley a shake of her head when asked if she liked comics. "I don't know much about them." Quirky? "I used to collect Beanie Babies," she blurted out without thinking. "I kept the tags and everything," she mused with a frown. "I don't really know what to do with them now."

Farley kept her smile firmly in place as Ashley finally realised who she was. "I know," she said lightly when he introduced himself, her smile faltering just a little. It hurt and it had no reason to, not really. She just had one of those faces and those personalities; bland. They'd never been "dating" back in school but it was still a bit sucky to be completely discounted. If the shoe was on the other foot, she wondered if Ashley would like it.

"Oh, yeah. It's a little straighter and shorter," she blabbed, feeling tense as the shame crept into her bones. Small talk was not her thing. She'd never really been skilled at putting people at ease.

Farley shook her head, her glossy bob swinging as she side-stepped a little away from him in the guise of flicking through the records. She wasn't reading the titles or the bands, she just wanted something to do with her hands. She really didn't want his pity or his embarrassment. In an odd sense, she wanted to know what Ashley had been up to since they'd parted. Like picking off a scab, she wanted to keep poking and poking.

"You look good," the brunette offered, her voice sounding steady as she cleared her throat. Had she been the woman she wanted to be, now would be a great time to ask him out for dinner, oh-so-casually. She also sort of wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.