About an hour before sunset, Darkshift made her way out to Central Park.  It wasn't one of her usual haunts but, as she awoke from her her slumbers that evening the thought had occurred to her that, perhaps, it would be a good place to train.  Not, of course, to train in combat but rather to train in stealth and, perhaps, once everyone began to clear from the park as the night grew deeper, to train in other things as well.

Taking a cab to the park, she was dropped off nearby and began heading inside, following one of the smaller paths.  Taking a leasurally pace, she reflected upon the recent changes in her life.  For the first time, she had direction and a cause.  She could admit to herself, when Aura had suggested she start working for her in helping mutants, it hadn't initially been about the cause it had been about the money.  As the weeks went on, however, she was warming up to it in ways she could never have expected.  She could use her power to do some good for her people.

Spotting a large, beautiful tree just off the path, she peered up and considered the merit of climbing it and hiding among its branches.  Deciding that it would suit her needs perfectly, small black claws grew from her hands.  She was starting to be more comfortable using her powers in person.  She stood there, waiting until a couple passed before preparing to scale the tree.

It was rare that Xavia got a chance to take a walk... The tired plant mutant needed some fresh air, not to mention a trip down memory lane. Central Park was still just Central Park... The sights hadn't changed in the years since her last visit. The stone bridge was still... the stone bridge... The brook was still the brook. This place, which used to be such a sanctuary for her when she had no home and no place to go, was now just a bad memory to her.

She shrugged the latter thought away and strolled along the pavement, face tilted up toward the sky and drinking in the atmosphere despite the soured thoughts. It was a mild night, which she was happy for because the cold hurt profusely. She passed the same couple by and the same tree, paying no heed to the young woman who stood by at the ready to climb said tree.

It was a peculiar thing that the other might notice... The scent of roses, and not synthetic perfume or highly concentrated oils, but actual roses... The scent would not even be dispelled by the wind for very long, and would only dissipate as she walked further away. And if that wasn't curious enough, the greenery within a a certain radius would brighten up, bloom, perk, whatever.