like children to the playground /Open/

[Sinclair]

Cymir did not like being cooped up. He'd been told to stay at the Corporation, or at least close, but he hadn't. And he wouldn't. The best part was that they couldn't make him. Then again, they had warned him that he wouldn't get far. In fact, though he didn't know it then, the bracelet that was on his wrist had a tracker that enabled them to track him whenever they wanted. It was really the only option considering the fact that he was a seven year old time traveler who had a tendency to disappear at random.

Cymir had gone off to explore, and where did he end up? The park. At first he was sure this was going to be as boring as the building. Then he'd gotten lucky and he'd found the jungle gym. Cymir's attitude shifted and he immediately began climbing up the stairs. The stuffed dog he carried, a husky named Slush, got in the way so he set the dog at the top of the stairs, telling him that he could watch right there. Satisfied that the dog understood, he turned around and began walking across the bridge of the jungle gym.

Cymir had aspirations to be a super hero. He wanted super hero clothes and a super hero name, just like the cartoons. And with the ability to travel through time, he didn't think it was much to ask. So of course that's exactly what his imaginary game was focused on- he became a super hero. He dodged and attacked enemies in a system of fighting that bordered on spastic. One minute he was jabbing calmly, the next he was 'running' while attacking invisible enemies, mumbling all the while. If anyone bothered to listen to his mumbling, given they were close enough, they'd hear that he was telling the story in his head.

Cymir probably wouldn't have done what he was if it weren't for the fact that he was playing all by himself. School was in session, though it had dismissed it's students almost twenty minutes ago, and yet no one had made their way to the park yet. Maybe they had homework, or maybe they just didn't want to. Cymir didn't know or care, he just wished he'd been there. The legal side of his presence in Bayville wasn't straightened out, therefore he couldn't be registered in school. And perhaps he would have been happier had he been able to have that social encounter in his day. . .

"Oww!"Cymir whimpered as he accidentally hit the metal of the railing on the jungle gym. He'd thrown his hand back and, of all the luck, he now felt the pain in the back of his hand. He shook it which did nothing to make it feel better, then glared at the railing."That was meann,"he mumbled hotly, as if thinking the railing would care what he thought.

[bacardi]

Scrap was on his own as well, perhaps lucily enough without a tracker such as the 7 year old he would soon meet. The day had started early for the 10 year old as he made his way to the market. It had been full of people buying and selling whatever they might have. Scrap hadn't really noticed for his focus was on the valuables the pedestrians and merchants held in their pockets and purses. As he made his way through, helping himself to any easy cash, he almost felt as if he were back in Brooklyn. These folks were just as clueless...Well except one.

Scrap had been getting overconfident as each pull went so smoothly, so by the time he reached a tall dark haired fellow in shades he did not hesitate to grab his wallet, but instead of carrying on if nothing happened, the man turned quickly to see Scrap running off with what he had.

Knowing he would have to dodge the creep, the young mutant zigzagged through the oncoming walkers and then took the nearest bus to the park. He hadn't seen his target before he left, so he hoped the guy didn't know where he was. Thinking he was safe he let out a big sigh as he looked through the guys wallet. What he found surprisingly seemed like two drivers licenses; The first was just like any other he had seen, but the second, which was hidden under the first, appeared more like a military ID with The Corps on the top. Not sure what to make of it, he shrugged and put the cards back into the wallet as the buss hissed to a stop. Paying the tab to the driver, he jumped out into cool fresher air and the sound of birds chirping.

Feeling more at ease, Scrap strolled along the marked pathway until he came upon the playground. That's when his blue eyes spotted the spastic boy, who was definitely younger than him on the jungle gym. An amused grin appeared on his face as he continued to watch the kid destroy his invisible enemies. Just because he was 10 didn't mean he lost his imagination so wanting to join in the fun he took one of his hidden blades and slung it at the metal contraption, causing an inevitable 'klang.' That's what you get for hurting my friend. Metal Monster! was what he had wanted to say, as he picked up his knife and put it back in his shoe, but now being mute and unaware of his telepathic ability, he only though that exclamation as he smiled at the kid.

{{Cy can hear his thoughts if you want. He's probably unknowingly projecting them.))

[Sinclair]

As the sun continued to shine and the world went on, despite Cymir, he seemed content to just stare at his hand woefully. It didn't hurt nearly as badly as he was making it out to seem like. But with little to distract him at that moment, he had nothing better to do, really. It wasn't even close to the worse wound he'd had- in fact, at one point he'd traveled back in time and got himself shot in his arm. Fortunately, when he reappeared in the present time, there was a kind girl who had the ability to heal him. In fact there was no mark left from the incident. It was like a distant memory while the current pain, though dimming at this point, was vivid and one of the few things on his mind.

Cymir jumped, startled by the sound of the clang of metal on metal. He'd been so absorbed in the sensation in his hand that he hadn't noticed that anyone had appeared, but now he was acutely aware of the world again. His eyes were locked on Scrap, or namely Scrap's hand and the knife he held. Cymir knew one thing- he didn't want to upset the boy in front of him if he could help it. Fortunately, the sudden voice in his head made him smile. He'd never heard a voice in his head like that, but he didn't discount it because it didn't sound like his voice. And he felt much better thinking that the stranger was just defending him against the object that had brought on his pain. But it did bring up another question; how did the boy's voice get in his head if he didn't move his lips? Cymir wanted to touch him, namely his lips, as if that could somehow give him some explanation. The knife that Scrap tucked away in that moment kept him from chancing it. He would ask Scrap about it at some point, he wasn't sure when yet.

"Thanks,"Cymir offered. "It hurt. . ."he looked at the railing as he stated this, but he didn't keep his gaze there long before he was grinning at Scrap again. Cymir loved to meet new people and this boy looked like he was the youngest person he'd seen- even younger than the girl, Peyton. That was very reassuring. But as he examined what was visible of Scrap's wrists only to notice that there was no bracelet on his wrist. His expression notably shifted, but not for long.

"I'm Cymir."Cymir stated, his voice cheerful once more. That was all he wanted to say about himself initially, and the idea of formalities such as shaking hands was lost on the seven year old, so he merely waited for the person in front of him to make the next move.