nysalogs | happy birthday to the GROUND

happy birthday to the GROUND

Who: Peter Parker (

webdesigned) & Clary Fray (

obstinance)
What: sad birthday thread
When: August 23rd!
Where: a park in the theatre district?
Warning(s): mmm no, besides trigger warning for nerd.

( birthdays had never been a really big deal for him. his aunt always made him pancakes, he and Gwen usually went out for Korean food and a movie. his aunt was usually working the night of but she'd always leave a cupcake for him in the fridge, with a card that played birthday song and things that made him misty scribbled on a card intended for someone at least ten years younger (it'd been Mickey Mouse last time). it wasn't much, but it'd been enough for him. a reminder that there were people in his life that loved him, loved him enough that they would remember the day he got older, even if Peter himself sometimes forgot.

he remembered this time, though, not because he was excited for it. sort of the opposite, actually. it was his first birthday without Gwen, which was hard enough. it forced up memories of guilt and loss and remorse that he usually blocked out. he'd visited his Aunt on the station but she was still asleep and unresponsive as ever. it didn't really matter, honestly, what was it? just a day. the fact he was more alone than usual shouldn't matter, he'd been alone the day before too. why did it bother him more today than it had yesterday?

the only concession to turning 19 that he had was buying himself a cupcake. or, trying to. Olympia didn't exactly have those. a pie seemed to be as close as he was going to get. they didn't have those tiny cartoonishly pastel candles, either, so he just looked like a weirdo sitting alone with a pie in the mostly empty park.

he's not even hungry, he realizes miserably as he stares it down. maybe he can bring it back and share it with Cheryl and Lila... though if they ask him what it is for, he probably won't explain. ) Happy birthday to me, ( he mutters with a half sigh, closing the box again and leaving the pie untouched. )

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[ her nineteenth birthday had, in some ways, promised to be better than her eighteenth.

it's not a high expectation to set, all things considered. that night of violently realizing and confronting who she was, where she came from, and who she was meant to me isn't one she holds in high regard — but neither is this day. simon and isabelle have been disappeared back into stasis, two best friends and reminders of home silenced and shut away where they're unable to hear her; her own universe has, allegedly, been destroyed. the only reprieve she's had is in knowing she's safe in this world, regardless of the threat the storm presents, but even that's a small comfort when even walking down the street is evidence of how out of place she truly is.

trying to distract herself is superior to moping in her (empty) house, admittedly, but it doesn't do much to keep her mind occupied. the music and cheers in the streets as musicians perform and acting troupes take to the streets is still a nice boost to her mood, for as pensive as she is, skirting through crowds as her feet lead her. she doesn't mean to step into the park, as reminiscent as the environment is of central park if it were outdated, less modern, cleaner, but she does — and walks until her feet are sore, until she stumbles across a bench that's already occupied.

... maybe it's a little rude to approach a stranger when they're just trying to eat their pie and muttering about their own birthday woes, but she at least makes herself known with the crunch of leaves beneath her boots, as she rounds the side of it and drops down. the space between them is respectable, leaning forward to plant her elbows on her knees instead of getting herself too comfortable in the case that he shoos her away. ]

You know, I'm not a pie expert or anything, but most people eat their pies instead of talking to them.

[ it's not a funny joke at all, but she still tries for a tentative smile. ]

( he hears her coming, though it's not in attempts to be creepy. he just... can't... not hear, is the problem. just hearing doesn't mean he understands, though, because she's far from the first set of footsteps to pass him by. if anything reminds him of the city, it's that — people coming and going and looking but not seeing. the anonymity in New York had been great, when he was trying to hide a superhero vigilante identity. sometimes it made him feel alone, too.

turns out, that's how it's making him feel now.

so it's safe to say he's not expecting someone to talk to him. that registers in his senses more than the footsteps or the fact Clary made herself comfortable — so he turns to look at her before the first word even passes, and his eyes get a little uncomfortably wide at the sight of her.

because this place is proving not to be as vast and easily anonymous as New York was, considering he was suddenly face to face with someone he'd interacted with previously, only the last time it'd been under a mask, or under a pseudonym. Peter looks passingly alarmed, which is a hilarious reaction to have because a girl spoke to him, though hopefully Clary can just assume he's bad with girls. that's probably not even necessarily wrong!

there's an awkward silence, and Peter clears his throat and looks away, back toward the boxed pastry. ) Around here? You don't know, this could be a talking pie. ( does he sound similar to Spider-Man? similar enough that she'll peg him as someone she's met before? god, what if his dumb jokes via text give him away? can dumb jokes give him away? Peter wants to look at Clary to see if she's suspicious, but he also wonders if looking would be suspicious.

this is going great. )

[ her first observation within the short span of this conversation: whoever this guy is, he's incredibly jumpy.

there are doubtlessly other traits of note, but the bewildered deer-in-headlights look stands out among them all. he's hardly the first refuge she's encountered with nervous tendencies, but he's the first to look this frazzled by her sudden appearance. clary almost considers apologizing out of principle alone, but by the time she does cast a sheepish glance in his direction, he's already begun to speak and fill that void of awkward silence.

unfortunately for peter, his voice is vaguely familiar. fortunately for peter, it's the brand of familiar that inspires only a small sense of deja vu that she doesn't consider for more than a small moment; it's been too long since the descent for her to do anything but shrug it aside. what's more concerning is his stunted ability to communicate with her, to say nothing of that avoidance of eye contact.

... well, okay. her intrusion is either unwanted and unwelcomed, or he's not quite a people person. as he hasn't told her to leave, she's guessing it's a lack of social skill, but clary has a proclivity for babbling that should make up for his pauses and strange looks. ]

I don't think it works like that. Does it even have a mouth? [ because that's the most troubling part of his suggestion, obviously. she scrunches her nose, shaking her head like she's trying to repel that thought in order to step into her next one. ] I can leave if you want, you know. Sorry to interrupt your... pie bonding time.

[ it's a genuine offer — not because she's put off, not really, but because of the generally uneasy atmosphere. for the moment, she isn't moving until he gives her any indication he wants her to. ]

( HE'S NOT JUMPY WHO'S JUMPY YOU'RE JUMPY

or no okay he's kind of jumpy. he's jumpy at the best and the worst of times, and this is somewhere in the not-so-great spectrum. which sucks, because a part of him regrets the fact he can't talk to her like he wants to. funny how it works, that he likes talking to Clary, likes actually being honest with someone — or, as honest as he can get, from behind a fake username and no real indication of his name or face. he feels like he knows her and that makes pretending he doesn't even more awkward, now that he's presented with the necessity of it.

(necessary, only to Peter. even in an entirely new world, he can't convince himself it's okay to let people know what he can really do.)

he laughs a nervous laugh, scrubbing both hands over his face, before he forces himself to look at her properly. ) No. It's okay. I mean, I don't know why you stopped for a chat with a weirdo talking to his food. But I don't mind. ( though... a part of him does hope she missed the first part of his conversation with his birthday pie, because the whole reason he's talking to a pastry in the first place is because Peter doesn't really want anyone to know it's his birthday.

he'd rather spend it alone and miserable, and people knowing about it might change that on principle. )

[ don't try to turn this around on her!!

he has a point, though she doesn't reveal that he isn't the supposedly first stranger she's decided to approach. it's impulsive curiosity at its finest, truthfully, but she hasn't come to regret taking an interest in any of the people she's encountered. yet is likely the keyword there, but for all of his confusion as to why she's honed in on him in a crowded park, nothing about him genuinely radiates 'weirdo'. ]

You don't look like stranger danger to me. [ just a fyi, peter. even if he was, she wouldn't have an issue flipping him onto the street — at least that's the assumption to make by taking one look at him. regardless, there are a multitude of reasons as to why she's chosen to speak with anyone that isn't an acquaintance, but it feels less pathetic to admit that there's one thing they share in common when the alternative is confessing that she's bored and unsettled, isolated and more lonely than she'd like to be, longing for home and more nostalgic on this day than she's felt on any other since arriving. ]

It's my birthday, too. [ so yes, she's heard him, but clary has the hope he'll feel less unnerved by that bit of information if he isn't the only one avoiding telling the world that. ]

( if Clary thinks nothing about him radiates weirdo then she's not looking hard enough

he's not the sort of creep mothers warn their children about before they go outside to play, at least. if he is, he hides it well behind glasses that read a little more studious than his personality would match, and the rather sheepish way he seems to avoid looking her in the eye. it's easily translated to him being nervous — and he is, just not in the way you'd think.

Peter is trying to think of a clever response to not being a creeper, when she surprises him with information he hoped she had missed... and the fact she relates to it a little too well. ) Seriously? ( it is quite a coincidence, even more so knowing that this isn't the first time they've met... though that has to remain a mystery to Clary. it has to.

still, Peter couldn't hope to forget, and what he knows of her makes him feel badly. she's a smart, funny, nice person. it's sad thinking she's stuck in the same boat he is, though maybe that's an assumption. maybe she has someone, somewhere, to spend it with, but if she did, why would she be wandering the park alone, talking to someone who is supposed to be a total stranger? )

Happy birthday, ( he says, a pace late, but genuine. he's been avoiding those words like a passion, but, saying them to someone else is easier. his face reads like he might know it's not as happy as it should be. how could it? Peter pauses, before pulling the box from where he's abandoned it next to him. ) You want some pie? I promise I won't sing. Trust me, that's best for both of us if I don't.

Seriously. "Happy nineteenth, your birthday present is your entire world exploding, sorry".

[ she can still manage to add some levity to the situation, but the truth of the matter makes it no less painful. she isn't entirely alone, though it somehow feels it now that she's aware isabelle and simon have returned to their pods, but alec isn't much of an upgrade from a stranger in the park. maybe because alec wouldn't understand, uncomfortable with that overshare of emotion and uncertain how to approach it if it doesn't involve sparring as an outlet. maybe because she and alec, for all that she considers him to be family, still aren't exactly close.

or maybe it's because a stranger who happens to share her birthday can comprehend the nuances where others can't, and misery just happens to love company. whatever the case, she doesn't have any desire to reflect on that line of thought, and tosses it aside with a smile that, while not insincere, is a little less cheery than it would be otherwise. ]

Thanks — for the happy birthday and the not singing thing. Making my eardrums bleed isn't that good of a gift.

[ but she still hesitates to infringe on his, even if it's been freely offered. she looks from him to the pie and back to him, obviously reluctant, before holding out her hands. who would she be to reject pie, really. ] Pie me, captain. I promise I don't having cooties, so you don't have to worry about sharing.

( is a reminder that their worlds have been destroyed really levity, Clary? not really. Peter grimaces, but only for a moment, before the surprise at the specifics breaks through any heartbreak inspired by thinking of home. he opens his mouth to breathe seri before he squashes the inquiry before he can finish it. okay, he knows more words than just that one. try again. )

You're joking. 19. When, today, or are you a celebrate a day early type? ( considering the circumstances, Peter can't fathom why anyone would want to celebrate a day early. still, how unbelievable is it, that they share a birthday, and are exactly the same age? on top of the fact they've met and talked extensively and are both from New York, it's just really really weird.

not that he can let on exactly how much.

Peter hesitates a moment as she waits for some of the pie, trying to battle through the best way to give her some — he doesn't have a plate or silverware, so, the best way is to eat it out of the tin, and that means not perching on a bench as far away from her as he can manage. he rises, and only once he's sure she won't deck him for getting closer, sits next to her instead. he opens the box and puts it between them. ) We're both nineteen, now. Surely we grew out of cooties at least a few years ago. ( he breaks off a piece of the pie just so Clary doesn't feel like she has to wait on him. ) I'm Peter. Peter Parker.

( it's really weird to tell her that, and yet maybe it's not as weird as it should be. )

[ in her defense, eloquence isn't her forte, though putting her foot in her mouth evidently is. she nearly apologizes when she recognizes the start of that grimace, but peter's bemusement spares her that embarrassment, even as it lingers at the back of her mind. first impressions, as it turns out, aren't her forte either. ]

People do that? [ she laughs, as soft as the sound is, before her brows knit. she can't find much reason to celebrate a day early when so few of her friends from home are around — and when she has little family to speak of. discounting valentine, who may share her blood but has been anything but family to her, luke is the closest thing she has, and he hasn't so much as blinked at her since she'd found him among the pods. she arguably isn't experiencing much revelry, regardless; whether it's on the actual day or otherwise, she isn't feeling particularly festive.

maybe the pie should make her feel a little lighter, a little more jovial. it isn't quite a birthday cake, though, and there aren't any songs to be sung. she's still smiling, though, and even more so when he manages to inch closer and pry into the mentioned pie before she can feel like she's intruding. ] Speak for yourself. I know cooties are still a thing. [ but she's still... trying to grab at a slice of pie. it's messy, a little crumbly, but none of it has splashed into her lap yet.

even if she has pie smeared all over her fingers. ] Very elegant. [ she can make a joke, even if it's at her own expense. ] Clary Fray. Nice to meet you Peter Peter Parker. [ yes, she's poking fun at the way he introduced himself. ] I would shake your hand, but. [ her fingers wiggle to prove a point, still just as slathered in pie. ]

Some people celebrate the whole week, unbelievable as that sounds. ( Gwen had been one of those, not that she was self centered or arrogant, no — it was more a matter that she had so many people in her life that wanted to celebrate with her. he'd been roped into at least a handful of those celebrations, seen family after family, awkwardly rubbed elbows with classmates that Didn't Get what she saw in him. it makes the pie taste a little like sawdust to think of Gwen's birthday on the first he's spent with her gone, and it may very well pass on his face as he chews, but not enough to really pinpoint what is causing it.

birthday blues don't have to have a specific root, do they?

still, Clary manages to shake him out of his thoughts by judging her own neatness. ) If I were going for elegance, I probably wouldn't be eating pie on a park bench. ( so, he really can't blame her there, he's the one that didn't bring plates. or silverware. hey, in his defense, he didn't think he had anyone to impress but himself, and Peter knows impressing himself is a lost cause by now. )

Yeah, I'm good, you can keep your cooties. ( two can make a joke at the others expense, Clary! )

Popular party people, probably. [ she's very proud of that alliteration, in case no one assumed so. popular party people isn't a category clary can fit neatly within, which may explain the lack of insight into whether anyone can stretch out festivities to that degree. she hadn't been friendless, not at all, but birthdays at home had always meant enjoying her small-knit family — her mother, luke, and the same best friend she'd had since age six — or sneaking into a club with simon, never an entire week with people vying to spend a moment with her.

if you ask her, it sounds almost too overwhelming to possibly be enjoyable, but maybe that's the line of thought someone with as few genuine friends as she does would have. ]

If you were going for elegance, you should have brought napkins. [ it isn't even chastisement, only stating a thought when she glances at her pie-stained hands. well... he didn't bring napkins, so there's only one solution to this dilemma, and it doesn't involve gracelessly licking the debris from her slice off of her hand. it helps that it earns her some sort of revenge for being told to keep her cooties to herself, at that — which is precisely why she reaches out with one hand and wipes pie filling across his cheek before going right back to eating like she hasn't just accosted him with baked goods.

the picture of innocence, of course. ]

Calm down, Dr. Seuss, you're going to pull something. ( he manages a laugh, though, he can't relate to week long birthdays any better than Clary. he liked his to be as much of a non-event as possible, even in the best of situations. he always felt the absences too keenly on a day meant to be shared. it seems dumb, now, to hold back. it'd have been better to seize all the time he had before it was gone.

he's chewing on the crust of his pie — because he has to be one of those weirdos that sort of likes the salty crispy edge better than the sweet part — when a sudden and unexpected swipe lands a smear of it across his cheek. he's half surprised because he didn't see it coming (literally) and half surprised she'd have the audacity to pie swipe a relative stranger. )

It's my birthday, ( he chastises, with a perfectly feigned aghast tone. it's only a ploy to distract her, before he lands the glob off his thumb on the tip of her nose. if one gets a birthday smudge, the other does too. though Peter isn't too shy about swiping the filling from his skin and sucking it from his thumb. so much for cooties... )

[ that dr. seuss comment was asking for retribution. in hindsight, peter only has himself to blame for provoking clary into her usual antics, okay.

it is a fairly decent imitation of someone truly affronted and bewildered by her audacity, but clary laughs all the same rather than jumping to apologize as she likely should. she might have, had he made any move off of the bench and chastised her for it, but he hasn't. that's the important factor in deciding whether or not to allow her amusement to show, though even that is a successful distraction before he decorates her nose in pie filling.

the nose in question scrunches by reflex, even as her peal of surprised laughter contrasts her apparent disdain for having whipped cream smeared across her face. thanks for sharing, peter. ]

It's my birthday. [ she has to make a genuine effort to sound anything remotely close to haughty, given how uncharacteristic that is of her. even as she says it, she's not making any move to remove that smear across the bridge of her nose. in fact, she's a little busy trying to somewhat gracefully lick some of the pie residue off of her fingers. ] Besides, [ it should be noted she at least has enough manners not to talk with her mouth full when she pops her index finger out of her mouth. ] I'm not the one that apparently enjoys cooties.

[ LOOKING AT YOU, PETER. ]

Eh, I'll be honest, it's probably too late for me.

( he's done cootied up now, Gwen already ruined him. there's no going back after that... in a lot of ways, actually, but especially on the cootie front. it is possibly a little too flirtatious and familiar to lick the swipe of blueberry she'd smeared on him off his finger, but Peter either does not realize or does not care. hard to say which it is.

as for it being her birthday, he manages a smile. not a big one, ear to ear — not one that has forgotten that he's still mourning a handful of people both up on Thesa and just gone, period — but one that realizes he's not alone and one that appreciates that more than he thought he would. if she feels the same, then maybe the birthday confession is worth it. )

Got any wishes? ( that's a birthday thing, right? making wishes? )

You know what they say about sharing birthday wishes.

[ that it's asking to jinx it, that they won't come true if it's revealed to anyone but themselves. that aside, they're distinctly lacking in the tradition of birthday cake and candles that need to be blown out, even if clary doesn't say as much. it feels too much like reminding them that their worlds are gone, that they've been thrust into another with unfamiliar customs, to make a mention of it. she rolls her shoulders in a shrug instead, recognizing the childish pettiness of upholding a superstition meant for children. ]

I could say a unicorn. Easy birthday wish to fulfill here, right?

[ every little girl's dream, and now they're in a place where unicorns are legitimately real. ]

( he's really not the superstitious type, though yes, he does know what people say about it. for his part, he'd rather know the wish, because how else is it going to come true? that may not be how it works for most people, but in Peter's world, waiting on a magical fix for an unspoken hope is never gonna happen.

so why not say it? that's a step closer to having it.

he picks at another piece of his crust, and at this rate he's going to have only filling left if he's not careful. he laughs at her suggestion, a half laugh, maybe, but a laugh all the same. ) You think so? It's kind of Dungeons and Dragons around here, but unicorns?

[ her eyebrow arches slowly but surely, but the gleam in her eye says she isn't genuinely unimpressed or insulted. ]

Would I lie to you?

[ he doesn't know her and can't answer that with any iota of certainty, clary realizes, but she's nothing if not terribly honest. prone to concealing information in order to protect others, yes, but by no means is she eager to invent stories or lead others astray.

maybe her question would have more of an impact if she hadn't just deviously wiped filling across his face prior to it... ]

More like World of Warcraft had a baby with Dungeons and Dragons. [ but, that aside: ] You can look in the stables if you don't believe me. There are actual unicorns.

( would she? that'd be a hell of an assumption, considering she'd been almost painfully honest with him. no, of the two of them, there's only one liar — and even Peter knows it isn't Clary.

he looks down, and picking at what remains of the crust on top of his pie slice is a good excuse for it, though maybe it'd been motivated by a quick pang of guilt. ) Seriously? ( sorry, it's not that he thinks she's a liar, it's just... seriously, this place has unicorns?

she doesn't have to answer. he puts down his handful of pie (more like filling on a bit of shortbread now) before saying with surprising earnest, ) Let's go see one, then.

( he can't wake up the people she's missing. he can't change that this is probably the worst birthday she's ever had. he can't even make her wish properly true and get her a unicorn. but he can go with her to see one. get it as close to true as possible. )

[ thankfully, she's too kind to point out that peter has a fascination with the word seriously. even kind enough to suppress her smile, in fact, although that becomes an easier task when she concerns herself with peter's neglected filling. so much for cooties perturbing either of them — never mind that clary is shameless in some regards, including this one. ]

Okay. Really? [ clary, you already agreed to this plan. she seems to realize that a moment after she's spoken, looking momentarily sheepish before it's overtaken by unadulterated excitement. olympia might be unfamiliar and a little lonely, but the mystical aspects of it make it more of an adventure than she'd care to admit —
worthy of inspiring awe, even in a woman that's brushed elbows with vampires and werewolves and impossible magic. ]

I'm going to say I told you so. Fair warning. [ but for the moment she's preoccupied with brushing crumbs off of her fingers and getting to her feet, barely waiting for peter when she darts off in the general direction of the stables. peter has longer legs... he'll manage to keep up. ]

( he seriously (haha) does. her taking over the part of his pie he is ignoring doesn't seem to bother him any. he's no Joey, he'll share food... on the rare occasions someone can get to it before he eats it all. she's caught him at a good moment where he's not eating everything in sight. birthday blues will do that to a guy. )

Yeah, really. ( he's not sure why she's so surprised, maybe it seems unmanly to want to meet up with a magical and mystical creature fond of virgins, but whatever it's too late. he's already said it, and she already said yes. they're stuck going on this magical adventure together, there's no turning back now.

he collects the pie box as Clary heads off without him, but it's true that he has long legs. he manages to catch up in a few steps, though his hurry makes him a little breathless when he laughs. ) Geez, now I dunno about all this. ( I told you so's are a pretty strong deterrent... but, somehow he doesn't turn and go off on his own.

he's got a birthday wish to grant, and somehow, it's not the only one being granted. maybe he didn't realize he was making a wish, and he certainly hadn't made any attempt to turn it into reality, yet as he was sitting on his lonely bench thinking of all the people that weren't there... even the kid that tried so hard to convince himself it was better if he was alone had wished he wasn't.

maybe it was true, what they said about wishes — his unspoken one had come true. he was determined that her spoken wish would get an answer too, though. it wasn't perfect, nobody would have argued that... but it was better than it could have been. maybe that would have to be enough. )

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happy birthday to the GROUND

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wrap here ?