ArchivedLogs:Snow Birds

Snow Birds
Dramatis Personae Rasputin, Trib	2013-12-14 A boxer and a hawk have a conversation.
Location <NYC> Central Park South
Central Park South is home not just to the park itself, but also to the Belvedere Castle, the Alice in Wonderland statues, and the Central Park Zoo. These areas tend to draw tourists like a magnet - it is, perhaps, for that very reason that places like Bethesda Terrace tend to attract more New Yorkers than not, if just to escape the press of tourism that infiltrates the whole city. Wintertime in New York is generally a dull, gray sort of thing. Until it snows. Then the city takes on a hushed, magical quality that brings tourists and residents alike to marvel at the transformation. Especially this close to the holidays. Even in Central Park -- or maybe /especially/ there -- Christmas spirits are lifted out of the weary trepidation of the lengthy plague. Around the park, people can be seen lingering later than usual in order to see the lights come on. Food carts selling hot chocolate and warm roasted nuts make very slow rounds. And, in the middle of it all, is the Grinch. Okay, it's not the Grinch. It's really Trib. But the boxer doesn't seem to share the current holiday sentiment. Dressed in jeans and heavy boots with a stained flack jacket, the big man trudges along the path seemingly heedless of the snow collecting on his knit cap and in the swoop of hair said cap pushes out along his shoulders. Instead, he seems content to glare at anyone who makes eye contact, which ensures that his path is good and clear towards the entrance nearest his neighborhood. He pauses as a snowball fight breaks out in front of him, and glowers at the college kids as they pelt each other. "Stupid fuckin' holidays," he mutters. "Turns everyone into dumbasses." Near Trib, a homeless man passes him, carrying some roasted nuts. Instead of eating himself, he walks up to a hawk, which has a $20 dollar bill in it's mouth. The hawk places the money on the floor, as the homeless man hands it the nuts, the man taking the money. Rasputin begins chewing on his roasted nuts, before spotting Trib, flying towards him, being careful not to spill the nuts. "Oh, hey, big person I met once! How are you doing? I love this time of year, so festive!" The sight of a hawk swooping towards him is enough to raise Trib's eyebrows in surprise, and he takes a half-step backwards before he hears the voice. Then he's lifting his arm to provide a handy roost, if desired. "Oh, hey, it's Tweety," he grunts, his expression only lightening slightly as he looks over the new body. "You upgraded," he notes in a huff of misty breath, and wrinkle his nose at the cheerful sentiment. "This season's the worst, in the city," he disagrees. "Everyone loses their fuckin' minds an' starts actin' like they fuckin' /care/ about other people." Instead of perching onto Trib, Rasputin lands on the ground, placing down the nuts to devour them, but this doesn't stop hir from talking. "Well, yeah, but it's fun to watch. On Black Friday I perched on a tree near a mall and watched all the chaos. Quite enjoyable! Except for the guy who fractured his neck, yowza.". Rasputin says, cheerfully considering the subject. "Eh, everyone cares about someone, don't they? I care about everyone I know, so, eh.". "Yeah?" Trib seems interested in the story about the mall, and his eyebrows lift. "Was that the one that the biters fuckin' attacked?" He pulls his mouth into a line, and lifts a shoulder. "I guess," he rumbles. "I got people I care about. I'm talkin' about they pretend they care about fuckin' /strangers/. Like...whattayacallit. Appeasin'. Their guilt." He spits into the snow, turning his head politely away from Rasputin. "For bein' assholes in the first place." "I think so. I left early, so I didn't see it, but, this lady rammed a shopping cart into the crowd and hit a guy, causing him to smash into the floor. Heard he survived, though is still in the hospital.". Rasputin continues to nom on the roasted nuts, quipping. "This is why hobos are the best. For one, most of them don't care if you're a talking animal as long as you have cash, and two, they're the best damn sources of information in the city.". Ze wiggles hir beak up to look at Trib. "Oh yeah, those guys are douchebags. You should genuinely care about strangers, in my opinion. A person's a person.". Trib grunts in response to the thoughts on homeless proxies, and his glare disappears as his eyes crinkle in amusement. "Yeah, an' if they /do/ tell someone they talked to you, they're just another fuckin' batshit bum wanderin' the streets." He nods, a sharp jerk of his chin to his chest. "That's pretty fuckin' smart, man." He jams his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. "Carin' is okay, so long as you don't go fuckin' nuts about it." There's another wrinkle of his nose for Rasputin's philosophy, and he snorts a foggy laugh. "Fuckin' Doctor Seuss," he rumbles. "I guess that sentiment really holds true for you, huh?" "Exactly. Either way, I win.". Rasputin finishes the nuts, tossing the garbage into the snow. "Mmhm, now I want more nuts. Thanks alot.". Rasputin laughs, stretching hir wings. "Green eggs and ham, too. Damn it.". Rasputin, feeling /guilty/, picks up the garbage with hir claws and tosses it into a trash can, before speaking again. "Well, yeah. I'm a huge supporter of mutant rights, especially seeing how I am. Though it'd be more hilarious if I was apart of Friends of Humanity.". "I think green eggs an' ham would fuckin' do you in," Trib rumbles, something like a chuckle underscoring his words. "There's a reason that guy didn't want to eat 'em." He watches as the trash is disposed of, and offers a glare at a couple passing who also stop to gawk. "The fuck you lookin' at?" he growls at them. "You think fuckin' hawks don't like a clean city, too?" The couple look uncertain before they decide it's not worth it, and move on quickly. "I fuckin' support mutant rights," he says in answer to Rasputin. "But, like carin', I don't go fuckin' nuts over it." He narrows his eyes at the hawk, considering. "That'd be somethin' to see," he confirms. "You keep your human body in a closet somewhere when you're gallavantin' around?" Rasputin can't help but laugh after the couple leaves, grinning. "And in the end, he ate them and loved them. There's always a lesson in those stories.". Rasputin grins again, laughing. "I guess I'm just a generous soul.". However, when Trib asks about hir human body, Rasputin frowns. "No, it's six feet under in Albany. To my knowledge, I didn't even know I was a mutant before it died, and my mutation kicked in to save me. Left me with some pretty bad amnesia, like some sort of movie. I'm usually a cat, but birds help me get around the city faster.". "Probably died of fuckin'...salmon-vanilla or whatever the fuck you get from eatin' spoiled pork," Trib offers with his usual cheer. "They don't tell you that part. 'Oh, it's fuckin' delicious -- ack!'" He draws a finger of his half-hand over his throat, finishing with a guilty cast to his features when Rasputin tells about hir human body. "Fuck, that's rough," he says, and it /sounds/ apologetic. "I didn't mean to fuckin'..." he frowns, and his brow lowers deeply. "It's rough, the first time," he says, taking a different tack. He holds up his half-hand, and shrugs. "That's how I lost these." "Salmonella.". Rasputin clarifies, helpfully. When Trib seems to get guilty, Rasputin laughs, shaking hir head. "It's fine. Not remembering my body helps to not make it hurt so much. I like being a cat, anyhow.". Rasputin frowns again when ze sees Trib's fingers, making an 'ouch' sound. "That must suck. Atleast you have eight more fingers than I do.". "Well, still. No one likes to be fuckin' reminded of the bad shit," Trib grunts, his brow lowering to nearly cast his eyes in complete shadow. "Cats are okay," he says. "You might not have any fuckin' fingers, but /I/ can't fuckin' disappear into the shadows the way you can. Or fly the fuck off whenever I feel like. So I figure, if we're comparin', it's a push." He grunts a brief laugh without smiling, and hunches his shoulders. "In weather like this, though, you'd probably fuckin' do better with a snowy owl, like them ones at the airport." He narrows his eyes, staring in the general direction of JFK. "They're fuckin' built for this shit." "Well, true.". Rasputin stretches hir wings again, as ze responds to Trib. "Heh. But it's also hard to talk to people, and I /really/ love doing that. So, I don't know.". Rasputin thinks about an owl, before shaking hir head. "I can't keep bird, sadly. Different bird every time. When I leave a body, the mind sprouts back up, so, the bird would just fly away. Harder for a cat to get out if you have special precautions in place.". Rasputin looks into the air, before turning back to Trib. "Do you have the time? I need to get back home before all the leftovers are eaten. I live with a lot of people, so, I try to get the best helpings of food when possible.". Trib blinks. "Huh. I didn't think shit like that was so complicated," he admits. "Or i wouldn't have fuckin' guessed, I mean. You could always get a cage for 'em," he says. "Then they couldn't get away from you. Your roommates could let you in an' out." He nods, satisfied with this solution. "An' owls fly quiet, on account of their feathers are soft. It's fuckin' insanely cool." Trib gets an actual smile on his face, and he bounces on the balls of his feet. "They see for shit durin' the day, but it's a hell of a fuckin' idea if you like sneakin' around at night." His grin slips wider. "Which, bein' a cat, I figure you do." At the question, he wrinkles his nose, and fishes out his phone. "Goin' on eight," he says, looking at the screen, then back at the hawk. "Dunno when you guys eat, but you might be livin' on nuts, tonight." "Eh, not worth it. Enough birds near where I live to catch. Finding a monkey is hard enough". Rasputin stretches hir wings one last time, preparing to take off. "Well, I have just enough time to fly home, gotta run. Nice seeing you, big guy!". Rasputin flaps hir wings, before soaring off, into the sky. Swoosh! "Yeah, I guess it would be a pain in the ass," Trib says, his eyebrows lifting. "Still be cool, though." He nods as Rasputin flexes hir wings, and steps back to allow for proper takeoffs. "See you around, Tweety," he says, lifting a hand in farewell. He watches as the hawk climbs over the park until ze's lost in the shadow, and then he continues on his way, muttering to himself. "Wonder how much it costs to have an owl for a fuckin' pet...."