asgardeventide | the saddest yard sale advertisement you will ever see [video]

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the saddest yard sale advertisement you will ever see [video]

[Roland sits amid wood, nails, and wire, scattered in a few small piles across the overgrown back yard. A little ways behind him, eagle-eyed viewers might notice a chicken in the process of laying an egg.]

Fiona Gallagher's... gone home. She, ah-- [He shakes his head, starts over, nodding at the house his camera's not at the right angle to show.] Anything in there's fair game. Odin 107, I mean. I won't be needing any of it. The door'll be open. Probably food and furniture, mostly - anything in the cupboards or refrigerator, anything not nailed down, bar the refrigerator and stove. I think the place came with those. [He shakes his head again, realizing he might be starting to ramble.] Doesn't matter. Corn, beans, squash plants in the back. Take them. Can probably see 'em behind me somewhere.

[Another chicken starts to peck at his sleeve and he lifts his arm, blinking at it.] Ah. Couple chickens, if you can catch them. Is that all? I think... I could probably use a couple extra hands to get all this wood and a couple of these plants over to Freyr district. And I... to be honest, I could probably use the company.

Bowls. I'll need a few of the bowls to transport these plants in. Other than that... Plates, silverware, clothes, bedding. Doesn't matter. I'll be leaving once it's empty. If I'm not here, don't take any of the magic plants. I'll find you. [The tone of that last is too absent for it to sound like a threat. It sounds, if anything, like an afterthought.]

The door's open. Have I said... [He has, probably. Roland shakes his head again, grimacing at himself, and cuts the feed.]

(ooc: If your character would drop by, this post doubles as a log post. Either prose or this format works, I'm comfortable with either.)

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[Turns out Roland isn't alone. One of his chickens has taken up the sworn duty of hassling a bird kid standing a ways back. (Guess who else got a letter.) (Yeah, that's right, this kid right here.) It might even be the chicken that was laying an egg, only now the egg is laid, the bird kid is perplexed, and it wants to peck his shoelaces.]

Hey, back off.

[He tries to nudge it away, but the goddamn chicken isn't having it. So Davesprite irritably squats down and gives it a deadpan stare from behind his shades. It clucks a couple times and pecks at his shoes some more, before he finally picks it up and carries it over to Roland. He holds it out to him, bobbing the bird up and down a couple times out of pure, deadpan amusement. It's head stays fixed in place, eyes beady and staring between both of them.]

Your chicken is a menace to society. [Sorry, Roland. He'll try to be more serious shortly.]

[At about the time Davesprite arrives, Roland's decided he's only got a couple more trips to Freyr before he finishes, so there's little else to do but sit and wait for sundown, when he'll leave. He's slinging his purse to the ground and following it down as Dave approaches the yard, and divides his time between digging through the purse for rolling papers and idly watching Dave. When the bird's held in front of him Roland looks at it a moment, then up to Dave.]

Society will have to adjust. Looks like that one likes you, though.

[Come on, you know you want to keep it.]

[Oh god, he already has rapping flowers and a cat fan club.]

Are you trying to suggest I should keep your chicken.

[He tilts the bird upward and they both stare at each other a moment.]

[He shrugs. Not suggesting so much as... stating a few facts.]

The eggs are good for protein, useful if these shortages get much worse. Long as you don't expect her to actually use any henhouses, you should get on well enough.

[Having found the papers and tobacco, Roland starts to roll himself a cigarette, nodding at the small henhouse in the corner of the yard. There's been no attempt to keep it in good condition, as it's not being used. He mostly kept it standing out of some vague optimism. Well. Too much effort to tear it down now.]

[The power of suggestion.

Davesprite's feathers lift and he looks back at Roland, expression unreadable. He considers and then shrugs, almost imperceptibly.]

Well, at least you didn't ask if eating eggs is cannibalism. [He eyes the chicken again, partially turning her around. She clucks at him.] What's her beef with hen houses.

[Roland's fingers pause on the cigarette and he frowns. The idea of cannibalism hadn't actually entered his mind, no, but it's there now. He finds himself wondering if it would be, for whatever manner of creature the boy in front of him is. He shakes his head, dismissing the thought.]

Damned if I know. Neither she nor her sister ever took to it. Never did find out what I was doing wrong.

[He pauses to start looking in his purse for flint and steel and then continues, voice casual.]

Might get worse if you take her on her lonesome.

Whoa, hey, back up there, dude. I never said nothing about adopting any chickens, singular or plural.

[And yet here he is, still holding the chicken and watching Roland roll himself a smoke. He tries to imagine this guy smoking weed.]

This is practically coercion.

[He glances up, then back down at the important business of lighting his cigarette.]

Are you not? Too bad. No one else's shown much interest in 'em today.

[Poor things. Look at them. Look at those lonely little faces.]

And now a guilt trip? Low blow.

[He drops the chicken on Roland's lap with no regard for the cigarette. Someone teach this crow kid about fire safety.]

For all you know, I prey on chickens for dinner, but I'm being conscientious by letting you decide their fate.

[Fire safety lessons will have to wait another day; Roland catches the chicken neatly in one hand, letting it slide from there to the ground, clucking in agitated circles behind Dave's feet.]

Eat them if you'd like. [He shrugs.] Least they won't sit here starving 'till the next tenant comes to this place.

[Davesprite watches the bird cluck around his feet, head tilting in a decidedly avian way, before he shrugs back.]

No thanks. Too many feathers. [He crouches back down, arms perched over his knees, and the chicken bobs its way around him.] Why don't you eat them.

Too much work. Might still do someone some good, anyway.

[He watches the chicken, taking a thoughtful drag on his cigarette.]

...To tell the truth, I don't know if Fiona would have wanted me to. I don't think she had overmuch experience with farms, and such people tend to start thinking of livestock as pets. I'd eat 'em if I had to, but- [He shrugs.]

[He considers that a moment. Fiona always struck him pragmatic in that sense, but then again, so did Rose. And Rose really likes cats.]

Why don't you want them anymore.

[Or why don't you want any of this stuff anymore is more like it.]

[He raises his eyebrows. Wasn't that obvious?]

I'm not going to carry them around everywhere I go. I guess I could start keeping them at the shop, but I don't need them that much.

[Roland's not avoiding the question. He's got a literal mind, is all.]

[Davesprite shrugs again, in a faintly exasperated way.]

It's not like the city's that big. It's, what, a fifteen minute walk from one end to the other, and that's if you don't go using any of the preinstalled teleporting arrays the gods hooked up.

[Roland frowns, beginning to look and sound exasperated himself.]

If you're so worried, you're free to feed them.

Worried. What.

[He and the chicken share a look, one that turns critical on his end.]

Man, you're the one who bought the chickens in the first place. Seems like a waste of an investment.

[He sighs, and shakes his head, and tilts it back to frown at the sky.]

I'm done arguing about chickens. I'll be gone by sunset, so if you're going to take anything, take it.

Nah. I don't want your stuff. [A beat.] Or Fiona's, I guess. I just came by 'cause I felt like it.

[He glances back towards the apartment. Yeah. Just because he was in the area, ofc. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]

[Roland studies him a moment.]

Cry your pardon. I think I'm just... I didn't realize we had so much. Shouldn't have been short with you. Or pushed about the chickens.

[Even though they do seem to like him. Well. Roland holds out his cigarette with raised eyebrows, a gesture of apology.]

[Davesprite looks at Roland, looks at the cigarette, and a slight frown tugs at one corner of his mouth.]

Are you offering me a smoke.

[Pri...orities...]

[Roland's store of patience, lower than usual today, very briefly runs out.]

For your father's sake, are you going to react that way to everything?

[He's flung his arm out as he talks but quickly lowers it to take a slow drag from the cigarette, staring at the ground and carefully calming his voice.]

Just an offer. No need to take it if you'd rather not.

[Roland gets an arched eyebrow, but little more than that. Davesprite has an excess of experience with people losing their patience with him; "insufferable" is kind of a family trait.]

Don't exactly got a dad, so no. [It's dry and unbothered; more matter-of-fact than anything else.] But nah. I don't smoke.

[He pauses, before adding,] In my extremely limited experience, it's not exactly par for the course for adults to go offering cigarettes to irresponsible teens unless they've got an agenda. At least, that's what movies and commercials tell me. [His actual experience with adults was mostly restricted to his older brother, who was an eccentric motherfucker.]

Teens. [Nevermind.] You know my agenda well enough today. Nothing more on it than getting rid of these damn chickens.

[As well as everything that was in their rooms, moving the plants, moving the rest of the greenhouse, rebuilding it, and not a few things he's probably forgetting... He looks over the yard one more time, expression bleak.]

Offering these'd be an insult in your world? [He waves the hand holding the cigarette, not really caring about the question, but knowing he ought to ask it. That's the sort of thing that needs to be kept track of, especially in a place housing as many different cultures as Asgard does.]

[Davesprite's head flicks instinctively to follow Roland's gaze and his expression shutters.] Yeah, ok. Fair enough.

But not really. Most people just wouldn't consider it kosher. Youth being the future or whatever, I guess, and addiction's not that rad a topic. But if it's not a thing where you're from, it doesn't really matter. It's kind of a dumb thing to give someone a hard time about.

action; shrugs into infinity and beyond...

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