There's No Place Like New York...

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

Wicked and Ice were having their very rare argument. Wicked was insisting on sending her gracious mind and body host—on a wild goose chase, and potentially dangerous. Pushing that with her flying monkey guards, Dorothy could be found easier. Of course this included stealing various monkeys from the zoo (monkeys just don’t happen out of nowhere!), and driving all the way out to Queens to find exactly what she needed. Naturally—Ice refused, and told her they’d find a different way.

Of course this didn’t help Wicked’s temper, and anger, and an inner battle (quite literally) began inside of the girl. Luckily, this was under a private little tree down in Central Park. Otherwise it would look like the blonde, lace covered girl was having a seizure. She was on her back on the ground, her arms spasming and twitching, and clenching. Her pale blue eyes, flashing an eerie blue that seemed to glow with a sinister light, rolled back into her head. Her glossed lips were open and closing, like a suffocating fish’s. Finally—the horrendous thrashing stopped. She lay still for a moment before suddenly jumping to her feet, grabbing her parasol. She folded it shut as quickly as possible, then took off running through the grass.

All the while, in the back of Wicked’s mind. Ice was struggling to regain control over her own body. It was always like that—one could take over. Should it be a willing take-over, it could last for quite some time. But should Wicked forcefully take control over Ice, it didn’t last for too long. Wicked was stronger, power wise—but it was, after all, Iceland’s body.

Of course, she has to wear all of this junk. Wicked complained mentally. Running was just that much harder with a giant rose decorated purse, peep-toe heels, and having to lug a parasol around. And of course, not having expected to take over today, Wicked didn’t think to ask Ice to put the mini-broom into her bag. So instead, as revenge, Wicked continued to run. Taking as many twists and turns as possible, trying to lose herself in the maze of New York. She ran for nearly a good, solid hour, before she was gripping her side, and panting. In a moment of weakness, Iceland’s mind slammed forward and took control again.

Ice gasped, and straightened up. ”What the hell did you do to me? Where are we?” Iceland hissed out of the corner of her mouth. She was exhausted, and on top of that, she had no idea where Wicked had taken her. It looked to be the harbors—everyone talked about this place. Of course, Iceland had never been down here. It was full of fish, and awfully large men. Large, dirty gross men. It was late afternoon, night would be upon the city soon, and that meant all the sleeze balls would be coming around in flocks.

Iceland straightened herself out, running her hands through her platinum hair, smoothing out the strange. She snapped her rose colored parasol open, and rested it on her shoulder, shielding herself from most of the harsh, orange sunlight. She looked around slowly, the hair on the back of her neck rising to attention. A few men were leering at her, like she was indeed a pretty little doll that she liked to portray. However, they seemed to have something else in mind for the soft looking blonde, instead of just looking at her. One man even straightened up from the wall, like he was going to approach her.

She didn’t panic—at least outwardly. She suddenly went on high alert, worst case scenario, she could fly far enough on the parasol to get away. Maybe several yards, if she absolutely needed it. Parasols were the worst for flight. Instead, Iceland straightened her spine, angled her shoulders back, and lifted her head, turning her nose up at the men. All the while, her translucent blue eyes scanned the area, for the least intimidating look. And there she found him, hovering around the fight club.

Her heels crunched on the old, dirty ground as she approached the stranger. He was handsome, with brown eyes, brown hair, strong brows. He looked Hispanic, “Perdon, habla Ingles?” She questioned. Her Spanish wasn’t as flawless as her English and French, but it was enough to at least get her by. Her eyes narrowed momentarily, “You’re going to pretend that you know me, to keep those other apes away from me. You are also going to escort me back to the main city, so I can get away from this…” She looked around slowly, “Offensive pig sty of a place.” She continued, then looked at him, and tilted her head, widening her blue eyes at him.

Notes:Guillermo/Mugs! Iceland/Olley
Outfit:Daww, how pretty and impractical!
Hair and Makeup:Ooh. c:
Song:I put a spell on you.

[GUILLERMO SALAS-ORTIZ]

Guillermo took a drag of his cigarette. He was thoroughly bored with his day. Taking a break from bitchy girls would be nice, considering both of his top evening choices were pissed as hell at him.He had ventured down to the harbor, hoping to pick a fight. Fighting relaxed him somehow. Like cigarettes and tequila.Speaking of tequila, he entertained the notion of going to find some now.
He turned and saw a girl approaching him. He choked on the smoke he was inhaling.
"Santo infierno."
She looked like a real life manga character. Her hair was bright blonde and her skin was white. Her clothes were light pink, adding to this strange illusion of a giant walking porcelain doll.
“Perdon, habla Ingles?”
"Sí. Who wants to kn-" she cut him off, rushing to get her words out.
“You’re going to pretend that you know me, to keep those other apes away from me. You are also going to escort me back to the main city, so I can get away from this… Offensive pig sty of a place.” She glared around at the lusty-eyed, drunk men and back at him again, her big eyes widening, if that was possible.
Her eyes made him uneasy, being such a contrast from her overall self.
"Sorry, chica blanca. But I'm pretty sure you don't own me. So I don't owe you any favors."

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

White girl, eh? Well of course she was white—it almost looked like her skin was void of pigment. But coming from someone, definitely not of her backgrounds, she took it as an insult. Her large eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Normally, when it came to men, she’d just shed a tear here, or flip her hair there—and they’d drop to their knees and beg for her attention. But this one…this one needed a harsher hand. She swung the parasol off her shoulder, closing it in a fluid motion. She let it come to rest, tip down against the ground, both gloved hands gently grasping the handle.

Her eyes opened wide again, and that dangerous, illuminated blue shone from her face. Inhuman, alien, and to someone who wrapped their superstitions around them, even possessed. Which wasn’t too far off the mark. “I find that you’ll do as I ask. I have absolutely no problem ramming this,” She tapped her parasol on the ground, “Through your body.” The tip came to a dull point, it looked harmless, but the sudden tone in her voice, suggested she may be crazy enough to do it. Her usual, princess, childish voice dropped into an octave more suiting to her age, void of emotion, and as dead as her expression. “And I can promise you, that no one here…will speak against me.” She then smiled, and as sweet as it looked, one could imagine fangs spreading from her small, straight teeth.

“So. Be a gentleman would you, and escort me to the city. And perhaps I will reward you.” Her head slowly tilted to the side, staring at Guillermo unblinkingly, the smile still on her face. Chica loca.

[GUILLERMO SALAS-ORTIZ]

You know, they say that you can tell if someone is crazy by their eyes. If you can see the white of their eyes above and below their irises is crazy. And the people who have extremely small pupils.
The only thing wrong with this girl's eyes was the color. The intense blue appeared to glow briefly, making him flashback to some horror movie he had watched when he was little.
“I find that you’ll do as I ask. I have absolutely no problem ramming this,” She indicated her lacy umbrella thing, “Through your body.”
She was bluffing. She had to be.
Her expression told him otherwise.
Guillermo's chocolate eyes widened a little.
“And I can promise you, that no one here…will speak against me. So. Be a gentleman would you, and escort me to the city. And perhaps I will reward you.”
Reward him? With what, his freedom? Her voice was lower than before and her eyes glowed and glittered dangerously. Whoever -or whatever- this girl was, he had the feeling that she was not often disobeyed. He wasn't planning on getting stabbed by an umbrella lady tonight.
His shoulder sagged in defeat.
"Fine. I guess I have nothing else to do anyway."

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

Her hands raised up, and she clapped politely, still holding her parasol. Iceland stepped to Guillermo’s side, and held her arm out, waiting for him to offer his. Lady like, even underneath all the crazy she had going on. “That’s a dear.” She smiled up at him, her voice returning back to the charming, childish sound, her eyes softening to that clear, bright blue.

Moron. All men are just stupid. She thought to herself, though her expression never betrayed her thoughts. “So, tell me Gentleman-In-Training, what’s your name?” She didn’t open her parasol, no use to poke his eyes out by mistake. And instead held it in her left hand, gently resting the tip on the ground while she waited for her arm. “And what are you doing in such an offensive place?”

Iceland leaned back a moment, and looked up at his face. Though his attitude didn’t please her, his face did. Handsome boy. “With perhaps a haircut, and a…change of wardrobe, you’d be more suited to an elegant spot. Perhaps The Wandering Goose Café?” A compliment with the side of ouch.

“Ah, yes. I think that’ll be your reward, Gentleman-In-Training. Safely deliver me to the Wandering Goose, and I’ll give you a decent gift card to the Wandering Goose. Maybe you can find an appropriate lady, and take her along. Now, let’s head along before it gets too dark. It’d do no good to have your face scuffed, should a mugger decide you have more than you're worth, yes?”

[GUILLERMO SALAS-ORTIZ]

“That’s a dear.”
She smiled and held out an arm. He took it begrudgingly, throwing the guys in the alley sour glares. She could have picked one of them.
“So, tell me Gentleman-In-Training, what’s your name? And what are you doing in such an offensive place?”
Gentleman indeed.
He scoffed, not enjoying the smug tone in her voice.
"I'm Guillermo. And I happen to fit in really well in such a place. Would it be worth my time to know your name?"
“With perhaps a haircut, and a…change of wardrobe, you’d be more suited to an elegant spot. Perhaps The Wandering Goose Café? Ah, yes. I think that’ll be your reward, Gentleman-In-Training. Safely deliver me to the Wandering Goose, and I’ll give you a decent gift card to the Wandering Goose. Maybe you can find an appropriate lady, and take her along. Now, let’s head along before it gets too dark. It’d do no good to have your face scuffed, should a mugger decide you have more than you're worth, yes?”
He sneered at her.
"Oh, how did you know? That is my life's dream!" he said in a false high, sarcastic voice, then he dropped to his normal tone.
"Don't think you can just walk up and tell me how to be, mujer. And I'd appreciate if you wouldn't act as if I'm inferior to you. I could beat off any mugger."
She angered him, yet at the same time he was frightened and intrigued by her. It took some balls guts to walk up to someone you didn't know and start demanding stuff of them.

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

“Guillermo.” She rolled the name on her tongue curiously. It took a little too much effort to say his name. Gully. She decided, would be his new name. Gully, that was patronizing enough—plus she could pass it off as an endearing nickname. “Actually…most of the other guys there looked about twice your size, and if I approached you, it means I think you’re less of a threat, which means you don’t fit in…then again. If you’re there, you must not fit in anywhere else, do you, Gully?” She asked sweetly, looking up at him, curling her arm around his. Oh this was far too much fun.

“I’d do very well not to get a smart tone with me, niño. I’ll spear your foot, and use it like a marionette.” She threatened, her parasol tapping menacingly every few steps. Effortlessly, she swung it up to rest on her shoulder while they walked. “I can tell you exactly how to be, however, if you think you have to be as I say, when I’m not around of course, then I’m quite disappointed in your intellect."

Iceland gazed around with the expression of boredom, leaving the fight club behind them. “As for inferiority, you are quite inferior to me. I was raised in a gated mansion, with paid help, and I never had to want for anything. Now unless you’re from the same background as I am, you are inferior. Just as I’m inferior to you.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She was taunting him, in a sick way. Baiting him, almost as though she were saying she was better than him. But in her tone, and way she spoke—it was simply as though she were saying they were different, but equal.

“I highly doubt that you could beat off any mugger. Could you say…take on a three hundred pound man, skilled in martial arts, armed with a machine gun?” She riddled curiously, her eyes looked up towards the sky, making idle conversation. She was getting what she wanted, along with stretching her mind.

[GUILLERMO SALAS-ORTIZ]

“Guillermo. Actually…most of the other guys there looked about twice your size, and if I approached you, it means I think you’re less of a threat, which means you don’t fit in…then again. If you’re there, you must not fit in anywhere else, do you, Gully?”
His gaze was like a frozen dagger.
"Just because I appear to be a lesser threat doesn't mean I am. And don't call me that. Call me Will, if you can't say Guillermo."
“I’d do very well not to get a smart tone with me, niño. I’ll spear your foot, and use it like a marionette. I can tell you exactly how to be, however, if you think you have to be as I say, when I’m not around of course, then I’m quite disappointed in your intellect."
He looked towards the darkening hue of the scarlet sky and sighed loudly. Why were women so fucking confusing. Of all the girls he'd met, this girl seemed to take the cake on confusing the hell out of him.
She was insane.
“As for inferiority, you are quite inferior to me. I was raised in a gated mansion, with paid help, and I never had to want for anything. Now unless you’re from the same background as I am, you are inferior. Just as I’m inferior to you.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
"You are inferior to me. Through my own eyes. Through the world's eyes, you are superior. I find a sense of pride in working for what I want. And that's really all I require."
He kinda wanted to push this girl INTO the harbor.
“I highly doubt that you could beat off any mugger. Could you say…take on a three hundred pound man, skilled in martial arts, armed with a machine gun?”
"It was sort of a figure of speech. And I doubt that there are many fat Asians wielding machine guns hanging around New York City, just waiting for a Mexican kid to come around the corner. Now, look, do you want me to bring you, or don't you? I'm fine with just walking away right now if you want to continue insulting me."
And he would, too. He had walked away from a lot of people. His family. The majority of his friends. What did he care if this strange girl was added to the list of disappointed people?

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

“Will? But that doesn’t seem to fit your name too well. Gully at least shares all the letters in your name.” She smiled peacefully, “Ah, well. The world’s eyes, perhaps. But I’m not looking through the world’s eyes, and neither are you. Nor do I care about it. I can get whatever I want, through money or work. I’m hardly affected by what most of these street urchins think of me.” Iceland rested her head momentarily on Guillermo’s shoulder, sighing contently. Her hair smelled sweet. Everything about her didn’t seem to match her at all, but at the same time—it suited her just fine. Something was wrong with this one, and it was a pain to pinpoint what it was.

“If you haven’t seen all of New York, you don’t know what could happen, also.” Her voice dropped once more to a whisper, leaning into his ear, whispering just for him to hear, “If you so much as turn your back on me, consider it your final action. Because you will be left bleeding in the street.” She rested her forehead against the side of his head momentarily, before straightening her spine again, and looking forward, the clueless, innocent smile plastered back onto her pale face.

“Gully…I’d be very smart, when dealing with me. I like to remain quite lady-like. I don’t like getting my shoes or hands dirty. I don’t like frowning, because it may give me wrinkles. And I don’t like to get angry, because sometimes I do some un-ladylike things.” She looked back up at him with raised brows, her eyes flashing that dangerous blue, for just a split second. “So stop threatening to leave me abandoned in this city. You’re not finished until I’m done with you. But…” She patted his arm gently, “I keep my promises. So get me safely to the city, and I promise I’ll let you go, completely unharmed.”

[GUILLERMO SALAS-ORTIZ]

“Will? But that doesn’t seem to fit your name too well. Gully at least shares all the letters in your name. Ah, well. The world’s eyes, perhaps. But I’m not looking through the world’s eyes, and neither are you. Nor do I care about it. I can get whatever I want, through money or work. I’m hardly affected by what most of these street urchins think of me.” She put her head on his shoulder and he smelled her sickly sweet scent that matched her slightly sinister personality.
“If you haven’t seen all of New York, you don’t know what could happen, also. If you so much as turn your back on me, consider it your final action. Because you will be left bleeding in the street.”
He shuddered against her breath in his ear. He wasn't fearful for his life, really. Just fearful that this girl would burst out of her skin to reveal a demonic presence and drag him to hell.
"Trust me, I've been left bleeding in the street before. There are worse things."
His eyes rolled of their own accord as she spoke again.
“Gully…I’d be very smart, when dealing with me. I like to remain quite lady-like. I don’t like getting my shoes or hands dirty. I don’t like frowning, because it may give me wrinkles. And I don’t like to get angry, because sometimes I do some un-ladylike things. So stop threatening to leave me abandoned in this city. You’re not finished until I’m done with you. But…” She patted his arm, “I keep my promises. So get me safely to the city, and I promise I’ll let you go, completely unharmed.”
He retracted his arm from hers, shaking his head.
"No. No way in HELL. Estás perra loca. You'll have to find your own way back if you want, but I'm not gonna let you manipulate me." He began to back away from her, his dark eyes wary.

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

“Bitch? Now that is absolutely, no way for a gentleman to talk to a lady.” Her voice dropped again, and she felt her mind rush like waves. Wicked waking back up. Even though it was amusing watching Iceland toy with this boy, no one insulted her host. Ice took a calming breath, though her jaw was clenched and her eyes took that glowing blue. Power surged through her body, but she was doing her absolute best in keeping it under control. Iceland didn’t exactly try to hide her abilities; what was the point in hiding something so powerful? So awesome? But she didn’t like to advertise it. But Gully was making her very, very angry. And they were at least half way back to the city, they had to be.

She held her small hand out towards him, palm up. “Mr. Guillermo, not very wise, I suggest you complete the task I ask you.” She scooted forward a bit, but strangely enough, her legs didn’t move, but there was the sound of her shoes on the sidewalk, like they were dragging across the cement. She continued to smile, though it looked sinister, her eyes glowing from her thick lashes. “And if I leave you bleeding in the street, boy. You will not live to speak of it afterwards. Fifteen minutes of your time, is worth the rest of your life. Turn me down one more time, and the next time I see you, I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?” She moved forward again, her head tilting down, doing her best not to scowl at him. So unladylike.

[GUILLERMO SALAS-ORTIZ]

“Bitch? Now that is absolutely, no way for a gentleman to talk to a lady.”
He scoffed.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm NOT a gentleman. Never have been."
“Mr. Guillermo, not very wise, I suggest you complete the task I ask you. And if I leave you bleeding in the street, boy. You will not live to speak of it afterwards. Fifteen minutes of your time, is worth the rest of your life. Turn me down one more time, and the next time I see you, I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”
He glared at her.
"Try me. I don't care what you do to me. I don't have a ton of value for my own life."
He came up close to her face, trying to slow his heart rate as he stared into the softly demonic blue eyes.
"Fuck off, bitch. Go to hell."
He walked away from her, a little on edge. He had always learned to expect a fight and he was ready. Turning your back on your opponent was not a very good move.
But it was better than being slave to the glowing eyes and insults.

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

“Every man should be a gentleman.” Her fingers tightened on her parasol. She did not get disobeyed, no one walked away from her charm. And somehow, with the way he was walking away, she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d fall for tears. She wouldn’t put it past him to just leave her there, crying. Instead, she came up with another idea.

Iceland wanted to kick him to the ground, and drove her parasol through his back, for calling her such a disgusting, offensive name.

Instead, she took a deep breath. Calm. Stay very, very calm. Her heels crunched on the cement, following Guillermo. She snapped her parasol open, and rested it on her shoulder, twirling it on her shoulder. She smiled peacefully, her eyes still glowing, while she followed Guillermo.

If he wouldn’t lead her home, he better be ready to let her stay somewhere. “I’ll just follow you until you lead me to the city, or until I find someone with a little more brain than yourself.” She glanced over her shoulders, “Though, take it as a compliment—I don’t think there’s many intelligent people in this city. So. Take me back to the city, or I’m just going to follow you.”