Butterscotch

[Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick]

((NOTE- Saxon Terrano was retired and is now inactive.  His profile was edited into a new character; Boone Fitzpatrick))

 

September 15th, 2017

Abandoned Construction Project (Warehouse Storage Business Office), The Harbor

7pm

 

 

He hadn't moved in a while, lowered lashes watching the colors filtering through low clouds over the harbor- determined to actually watch the sun go down.  Purples and reds were mixing together, reminding him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.  An old drawing maybe....

 

Cheek shifted, another flood of sweet filtering through his mouth from the candy that had been in the pretty gold wrapper.  It was his last one.  Savoring the taste, watching the sunset, foot started moving lazily in a tick-tock motion.  It was a dangerous place to be, almost ten stories above the harbor in an abandoned office project.  It went up almost fifteen stories, the skeleton anyway.  The first three had been ready for guts seven years ago, now just shredded and winter worn plastic wafted about to separate the i-beam rooms.  On a windy day, they looked almost like gossamer cobwebs coating the internal workings.  At the tenth floor, there were only basic structural squares- a circus act to actually get where he was.  Higher than ten? A few jutting beams into the sky and cross sections that had promised something once.  He liked it up there.

 

Up here, he was comfortable. No cops.  No assholes wondering what the hell he was doing staring off into nothing.  One foot tucked under his thigh, the other dangled precariously, hands calmly in his lap.  His spine was leaning against an upright beam, skull against the cool iron.  Had he worked on this goliath? Had no idea.

 

Gold wrapper was flickering through his fingertips, twisted and glinting in the fading light like a tiny mirror. Accidentally flipping out of his grasp, instinct reached for it- the still figure save for his swinging foot leaning sideways without thought to grab it... and with it went his balance.

 

Hand slapped the beam as he slid off, dangling almost a hundred feet above the maze of metal and cracked concrete below by one hand.  The elusive wrapper had been snatched, put between his teeth as he pulled himself back up... lifted waist high to put one leg over and regain his perch.  Ankles locked under the metal beneath him, taking the wrapper and tucking it into his leather coat pocket.

 

Unfazed.

 

A few more minutes of sun, and it was time to find something to eat.  Where was he again??  Hazed smoke blinked a moment as they swept his surroundings, trying to gain which shelter he was closest to... sigh oozed out as he settled back against the beam again and finished his sunset.

[Guest Istas Trenor]

Even before her...alteration...Issy had always loved the harbor. It was a great fishing spot, for one (if you could ignore the occasional unpleasant washup or unwanted catch of the day) and had a beautiful view with Lady Liberty jutting up over the water in the distance and the gulls cackling in the blue sky of a crisp fall Big Apple day. Of course, that was before Lady Liberty took a dunk into the pool and never really got rescued.

 

Issy was perched at the peak of the construction sites framework, the crane overhead a webbed shadow in the decreasing light and the sound of the city a constant hum from below. Like everything else, though, it wasn't nearly as loud as it used to be. City sounds had taken a hit with all that'd happened during the Event and what sounds were once common were now considerably lessened, on top of the addition of quite a few new ones. The snow-feathered raven clicked her beak and shifted her feet upon the perch, canting her head to catch a light on the waves off to the left washing against one of the breakers before continuing their ceaseless march forth.

 

The sun painted an even prettier picture on the waterfront that made the human within the animal smile somewhat, the ability to enjoy something so simple as sunset given back to her with release from prison. She liked that, about as much as she liked being able to watch it from this vantage. Denied the sun for even as long as she had been was just not fair.

 

Something shiny caught her attention down below and the bird's head tipped down until her beak was pointed straight at the ground, skull tipping and shifting to spot that shiny bit of wrapper that had caught her attention and subsequently the fellow also seated among the city-clouds. That seemed slightly surprising  to the Raven and she walked along the steel beam so that she was more over the man than before. He had his eyes on the sky, the cast shadow of the construction behind him and his balance easy on the metal. He was certainly a fearless fellow to feel so comfortable this high up with no harness that she could see. And he had no wings to catch him should he fall! A very brav-

 

The wrapper was falling and before she could do so much as arch her wings, so went the man! A rawk of startlement filled her that she might just witness a mans unpleasant demise for such a casual attempt to grab what he should've abandoned the moment it slipped his hand. This was far too high for his like to be trying that sort of trick! But the man did not splat upon the ground below; rather, he caught himself deftly (and the wrapper besides!) and pulled himself right back up onto the beam...only to resume staring at the sunrise.

 

Curiosity piqued her and Issy could not help leaping from the beam, pale wings unfurling and carrying her onto a breeze, around the building and back through the framework just so she could alight upon his left knee, blunt claws gripping easily. She was a heavy bird, of course, so he should recognize the weight thereupon, but just in case, the raven krruck-rucked at him, wiped her beak on his pantsleg, and 'spoke'.

 

~Why?~

 

It was a very bastardized word, avian throat unable to completely form the sounds and tighten vocal cords in the way a human could, but then....most ravens couldn't talk. She just hoped he didn't freak out and try to hit her (it was an awful long way down, afterall).

[Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick]

Gone.

 

Soft sigh filtered through his nose at the last of the sugar.  It had been perched so long against his cheek, the skin inside of it was puckered slightly. Tongue moved against it on the inside of his mouth, trying to glean as much as he could.  It was gone.  Sniffle was melancholy as the wrapper flittered through his fingers again.  He could have more if he would get a damn job.  Hadn't he tried this week?  Knot tight in his throat, forehead crinkled as he stared upward at the steel bones above his head.  Had he worked on this one?  It seemed so, familiar.  Sometimes flashes, weird dreams and deja vu were all that consumed his thoughts.... he missed it.  Missed everything, the feel of a torch in his hand creating the foundation that the world revolved on, being Atlas...   It'd been so long since...  since...   His head hurt.  Skull moved back and forth gently against the i-beam, the sensation calming the tension in his brain. Memories trickled in and out like butterflies, he couldn't catch them.  He was going to go crazy one of these days.

 

Wrapper snapped possessively into his fist as the bird landed on his knee, the suspicious narrowing of his lashes turning quickly to a curious crinkle of brow.  Head cocked, a warm inquisitive expression brought an upward tug of his lip.  Palm opened to reveal his glittering prize, tips of his first and second fingers crossed slightly to hold it inbetween for the bird.  A crow, or raven or something.  After his shiny?  Never seen one that color before... the back of his hand lay on his thigh, not making an effort to extend his hand.  He didn't want to scare it off.

 

Eyes were already taking in the methodical curves of every feather, linear and beautiful... artist brain beginning to tick, focusing on each frond that attached to make a feather, a feather to a wing, a wing to a form.  Shifts of color, subtleties of shadow.  He'd been in contact with so many birds at these heights....

 

Hadn't he?

 

"Hi,"  he said simply, voice a warm whiskey.  The timbre seemed innocent enough.

 

Fingers moved slightly, making the gold wrapper catch the colors of the setting sun.  He didn't want to shoo it off, it seemed oddly... interested?  Or hungry.

 

"I was just about to go get dinner,"  but he didn't want to.  He was intrigued by the thing.  "I don't have any food for you."

[Guest Istas Trenor]

Balanced upon his knee, the raven's beak opened a-slight, pale tongue lifting from within in what was akin to an avian pant as she tipped her head this way and that, keeping her surroundings in sharp awareness. Scents, like sights, were different in this form. Her sense of smell was considerably weaker, for one, unable to pick out the same kind of sweets or salties or tarts that a human nose could, but it was made up for by a keen sense of sight and an even keener intellect. So when he wiggled the wrapper a little, her eyes flicked to it immediately, attentive yet cautious.

 

Carefully, Issy side-stepped down his knee to the the beam, watching as much the 'shiny' as she was the man who held it. Her feathers would ruffle and her claws click as she stretched out towards it, beak parting anew in an effort to grasp it without risking getting grabbed herself; but the pitfall of being in this form were the intrinsic instincts and reactions the Raven possessed. One of which was her predator-sense among other things. Though the man gave little in terms of 'bad vibes' and was making no moves to harm her yet, Issy was far too aware of the sudden arrival of a small mob of crows on a beam behind them just before she could grab the bit of reflective plastic.

 

Her head whirled in that direction and she hopped back up to his other knee, flaring her wings and flashing that plume-heavy beard at the noisy 'cousins'. AARRAAWK!! Of course, a crows response to that was the same cawing laughter they had for everything else in their lives, no more bothering the white raven than they were the man, only watching. Issy tucked her head at their mocking and picked vainly at a few jutting feathers before twisting her attention back to him and krrucking once more. Avian, near-human speech slid from that bill once more as she perched there.

 

~Dinnerk rk rk~

 

She cursed the form its inability to speak as fluently and hopped back between his legs, boldly walking the short breadth, and leaned out to deftly pluck the shiny from his fingers before lifting from the beam with a hard flap of her wings for lift, landing smoothly onto his shoulder and pressing her bill against one ear, the shiny plastic compressed in the process. He seemed a distant sort, his eyes seeming to dwell on something far away, something Issy could not quite understand. She was tempted to shift back, but then getting down would be more difficult. So, for now, she remained, listening and balancing and occasionally throwing murderous looks at the crows nearby.

[Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick]

The off-kilter Were never had a shortage of smiles... usually most prominent when he wanted something from someone.  Charming the girl at the coffee shop for something she could spare, a smartass smirk before he decked some deserving asshole.  Every once in a great while they were easy, especially when he found a gentle joy in the world around him; interrupted more often than not by some fucker that didn't want a bum around, or was uncomfortable with the fact he could stare at something for hours and not move.  Art was complicated, and sorting through what he was seeing without the interruption of others that manufactured reasons for him to be a problem was rare.

 

The light smile filtered to his eyes, this was one of those moments, sans assholes… watching the bird try to decide if it wanted the wrapper more than not trusting him.  He never remembered seeing such an odd colored crow, or raven- he didn’t really know the difference.  Raven sounded so much cooler. He thought they were supposed to be smaller than crows? How big was a crow?

 

As it moved in a distrustful dance, his brain was making a film… lines and colors blending together to process into a painting that would itch at the inside of his skull until it could pour out through fingertips. He had no more paper, or chalk.  Damn. The cops took the last of it after the incident in the park… the only thing he was guilty of was slugging the cop when he refused to put up with the accusatory bullshit.... and his cotton candy, he never got that back either.

 

Eyes fluttered upward at the new crowd of “people”.  Birds.  Yes.  Now he knew why he hated looking up at the birds, they always had a habit of shitting on his work crew.

 

~Dinnerk rk rk~

 

Smokey irises blinked back at the thing, his turn to have a curious cock to his head, releasing the wrapper as it was plucked from his fingers.  Pursed lips were thoughtful, he was either tired or going crazy, lashes lowered as it fluttered and perched on his shoulder- chuckle deep at the crinkle on his ear.

 

“Getting too crowded up here angel,” narrowed eyes watched the crows above.  He was not about to risk getting peppered.

 

He pushed himself up to stand on the beam, no fear at the open air in every direction.  It was never in his make-up, heels slightly off the back of  the beam as he balanced and stared off into the darkness over the east.  The feel of nothing except updraft, was exhilarating.  Sure feet placed one in front of the other as he reached the vertical beam and held on, sliding slightly downward- apparent almost immediately that the man had climbed up to the impossible to reach floors vertically hand over hand.  He should have thought it odd, but the Were didn’t really put two and two together that he shouldn’t have humanly been able to do it. 

 

Getting down, was always his favorite part... voice thick with mischief. 

 

“Angel has wings, hold on if you can… it’s such a fucking rush.”

 

With that his toes slipped from their perch, hands and feet hugging the i-beam “track” loosely as he slid down a flight with tremendous speed, a small hop skipping the next horizontal beam to continue his carnival ride.  The last floors grasped and jumped like a daredevil until both feet hit solid ground with more weight than they should have for a man his size- checking immediately to see if the cherub on his shoulder was still with him.

[Guest Istas Trenor]

The instincts of the Raven told her that though there was something unsettling about the man, he was otherwise someone she could be more at ease around. For the moment. Perched easily on his shoulder, she was content to remain so, manuevering the bit of wrapping down beneath one foot so that she could pick at some of his hair, feathery beard expanding to brush his brow. When the crows started up again with their dissimilar caw-caw-cawing at the pair, Issy plopped her head onto Saxon's and rawked more quietly at them. It was an easy step up  and over to his opposite shoulder, at that point, Issy's wedged tail fanning out and her whole body fluffing up comically. When her beak opened, she let out the mimicing BANG of a gun.

 

The crows fled just as fast as their inky wings could carry them. Away from man and bird-that-was-not-a-bird, a fog of feathers descending in their unexpected fright. That she was almost twice the size of the crows made it easier, as well, on top of a bigger brain to and vocal function to enable her to make the noises this body could. It was funny to scare mundane animals, a pleasure Issy had missed during imprisonment.

 

However, she must have disturbed the man, for suddenly he was moving, dictating his displeasure of the crowd, and telling her to hang on as he stood on the beam, Issy shifting easily with him and peeking around to his face so one bright blue eye could study him. What was he-"

 

"It's such a fucking rush."

 

The world gave way around them and her claws clutched his shoulder just for an instant. Her light body was not designed for that sort of dive, but hot damn! When the world lurched for an instant as he hopped, she hastily adjusted, streamlining herself against his shoulder with face to the wind and wings angled out to let the air pass around her without breaking and then releasing her feet from her perch completely. She would only 'touchdown' between floors, and then only for an instant, so that when they reached the bottom, her landing would be easy and not painful, a simple matter of closing toes upon his shoulder once more and reassuming her balance by first turning her back to his front and then vice versa, even walking around to his other side until she found that perfect spot once again.

 

The Raven was awash with noises that the birdy brain could not bring words to, a blather of excitement that made pinions stand erect and snowy wings extend triumphantly.  However, his 'Angel', as he had called her decided enough was enough for then and quickly hopped from his shoulder to soar a few feet away. Before she even touched the ground, the white disappeared in a blink of light, replacing sturdy and bold bird with the willowy Cree. "Holy shit, man!" She laughed, pushing fingers through inky hair and exposing the feather and bird tattoo at the base of her neck for an instant before shadow claimed it.

 

The woman turned back around to face him, grinning, "That was so much fun! Mundanes are so boring most of the time, they never wanna do stuff like that, but hot damn! I thought for sure at the start you were gonna splat down here when you almost lost the wrapper, but whoa, jesus!" She fell back into laughter and tilted her head up to the web of beams they had just left, her grin easing into a more peaceful smile that reflected the giddiness the descent had bred in her. "But I always love the fall most. I can see the falcons and some freaky alien things from some other dimension do these really amazing dives, but I can't match them. All I've got is the Raven, and it ain't much for diving."

 

Sighing, she brought her head down and fixed her eyes on him, then gave an innocent and friendly wave, her hands planting on her hips in a final attempt at settling, and added, "I'm glad you didn't decide I was an annoyance who needed squashing. I just got outta one box, I'm not particularly interested in going into another, haha!"

 

Issy was not one of those drop dead gorgeous people, her time in prison having left her musculature somewhat less toned than she would have liked, but she was still attractive in her own native-american right. Her hair was a dark and long, loose around classically red-bronze skin and shoulders, the round of her face accented by the carve of her cheeks and slight pucker of her lips in the natural smile she wore. Standing midway to six feet, she wasn't tall for a woman, but definitely not short, a modest bust as bare as her belly, waist, and legs and flecked with tattoos all across, the feather having just been the least visible at the first. The other which would have been glimpsed with her back initially to him would have been the Life tree at the base of her spine, the pitch ink stark against the smooth skin of her lower back with roots that just began to curve upon buttocks.

 

That, the feather, and the raven nestled over her right breast were the greatest to be identified, with a few nondescript and otherwise small pieces here and there (a practice circle over her left wrists pulse, a teardrop etched into one earlobe, insignificant compared to the greater works she prided herself on. Most of all, it was her eyes, those too intelligent, too observant, too knowing eyes. Eyes that picked out the flicker of a window shade in a building nearby of someone looking quickly away from what had been observed to the brief glance a driver had spared them to the rat nibbling at a chip from a trash bin in an alley yet to be bathed in darkness.

[Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick]

Chuckle was dark at the bird's playful antics, zipping down the side of the building like a professional repelling a sheer rock wall.  It was rare he laughed either, sincerely thinking the bird was going to cry 'enough' and take off back to its own world.  It stuck with him all the way down, fingers even so much as trying to reach up and touch it finally when boots hit the ground, disappointed when it finally seemed to have enough and fly off.

 

Eyes blinked.

 

 "Holy shit, man!"

 

Lips parted slightly.  He knew things now were different, people were different... never actually seeing anything like it.  He didn't even know he was a Were.  Expression was caught between complete surprise, fascination... eyebrows starting to inch higher over his hooded eyes.

 

"That was so much fun! Mundanes are so boring most of the time, they never wanna do stuff like that, but hot damn! I thought for sure at the start you were gonna splat down here when you almost lost the wrapper, but whoa, jesus!"

 

Blink was slow, nostrils flaring at the scent of her hair.

 

"But I always love the fall most. I can see the falcons and some freaky alien things from some other dimension do these really amazing dives, but I can't match them. All I've got is the Raven, and it ain't much for diving."

 

Fingers flexed slightly at his side, never quite getting up to wave back at her.  Usually distant eyes very clear and keen, trying to focus on her face.

 

"I'm glad you didn't decide I was an annoyance who needed squashing. I just got outta one box, I'm not particularly interested in going into another, haha!"

 

Lower lip was suddenly being gnawed at, the warmth on his neck under the leather coat and large knit gray sweater a rising heat.

 

"You... you know you're naked....? ...right?"

 

He turned his back to her suddenly, as if forgetting it was probably the polite thing to do... fingers absently rubbed the back of his neck before shrugging off his leather coat and pulling his sweater over his head.  Sliding it over his shoulder, fingers bobbed it up and down a few times to signal her to take it.  Brows wrinkled, shit.  Had he just insulted her by offering her clothes?  Whatever she was?

 

"Not...  that I'm complaining.  Because..."

 

...he just kept digging his hole deeper.  Because he'd checked her out?  Of course he'd checked her out, he was a red blooded male. Albeit a little off his keel... he was an artist, and her tattoos were... artsy.  On a nice body.

 

The sweater bobbed up and down again, fingers rifling forward and back though his hair with his other hand as he stared at the ground.

 

"Glad you liked the trip... are you a, a shapeshifter?"

 

He did know about those, trying to make small talk.

 

"I looked at your tattoos... and stuff... sorry."

[Guest Istas Trenor]

She could see it there as plain as night was rising in the sky, not quite embarassment, but certainly the avoidance of one who didn't want to embarrass her in return. The very thought made her cackle loudly, Issy striding right up to him once he turned his back on her and tried to give her his coat like a peace offering to a monster. She would take it, though...if only after a few moments of letting him sweat it out, neck red and words sketchy at best.

 

The woman swung the coat over her shoulder but refused to don it, even glaring at a fellow when he thought he'd be slick and start to approach her, licking his lips lecherously. It wasn't her which scared him off at least, but the fellow she was 'with'. "Yea, I know. I was about to take a shower when I noticed the sun was setting. First chance I've had since getting out to take a look so I thought I'd come out. Easier to do by wing than by foot, hehe."

 

His not-quite-shy shyness was amusing, frankly, and Issy reached up to tickle her fingers against the back of his neck and up into his short hair, grinning as she did so before quickly hopping back on light feet just in case, the jacket bobbing against her hip as it swung with her. "I mean, I coulda put a towel on but it's a bit more awkward and harder to manage that way than just going au naturale, you know. I'm Issy, by the way. Istas. But you can call me Angel, sug. Seems a good 'nuff name to me." She allowed him a few moments longer before finally swinging the coat around and on, though still didn't bother to close it, her thin frame sticking one hip out just for the hell of it, trying to see the kind of reaction she could garner from him for still refusing to conform to his thought that she shouldn't be naked as nature intended.

 

"Hey, get yer eyeful, sweet-cheeks. Least you deserve for that bit of fun. You gonna stand there like a dazed buck or you gonna give me a name? I mean, I guess I could kiss it from you, but then where's the fun in that? I like the chase as much as the chaise." She even had the gall to wink at him, at last folding the front closed and crossing her arms beneath her breasts cozily. "But yea, I'm a shifter. Don't see much use in using a bunch of forms so that pretty ol' bird's fine for all my needs. It's kept me a live more often than I'd like to admit after the Event happened. What about you, though? You were lookin' really starry eyed and...I dunno...happy maybe up there. Whatcha thinkin' about?"

[Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick]

When she took his coat, smoke couldn't help but slide slightly to the side.  He wasn't a prude by any means, but he was also... somewhat of a gentleman.  Maybe a bit old fashioned, weight of dangerous eyes snapping to the fellow that decided to approach her.  It rumbled in his chest at first, the vicious growl of a wolf imprisoned, so quiet he couldn't hear it himself... the urge there nonetheless.

 

"Yea, I know. I was about to take a shower when I noticed the sun was setting."

 

Hazel cooled and slid to the side again to "pay attention" to what she was saying without being a lewd asshole, gaze cast over his shoulder that didn't quite reach her.  Someone who could change at will?  He'd heard of them, quite fascinated in fact. Met a couple mages once too, they were pretty much bastards.  Maybe the tendency for magic made people arrogant pricks.  When you could wiggle your fingers and pretty much do whatever the hell you wanted, he supposed it was pretty easy to look down on others like a bunch of street trash.  Bunch of circle jerk magicians.  If they spent some of their hoodoo helping the rest of the crapped on souls instead of fighting each other they'd actually get somewhere in the world. Him? He was just a nobody, and they hadn't let him forget it.

 

"I mean, I coulda put a towel on but it's a bit more awkward and harder to manage that way than just going au naturale, you know. I'm Issy, by the way. Istas. But you can call me Angel, sug. Seems a good 'nuff name to me."

 

Okay then.  He turned, hands slid calmly into his low slung jean pockets, letting her do whatever it was she felt she needed to do in his presence.

 

"Hey, get yer eyeful, sweet-cheeks. Least you deserve for that bit of fun. You gonna stand there like a dazed buck or you gonna give me a name? I mean, I guess I could kiss it from you, but then where's the fun in that? I like the chase as much as the chaise."

 

He studied her a long moment with eyes that seemed so deep they were lost in shadow, making no qualms about letting her have the attention she wanted- no indication whether or not he liked what he saw.

 

"Saxon.  Not a virgin, sorry to disappoint.  Just a gentleman,"  the smile was genuine, a bit of sass from the Were indicating he pretty much said whatever he thought, whenever he wanted to.  "And I've done my share of waking up naked in the middle of an adoring public, guys don't seem to get the same friendly welcome."  as soon as it slipped from his lips, the memory seemed to flutter away like his shiny wrapper.  The man had no idea what he was capable of, part fractured, part a characteristic of the race to erase the change. He knew for short moments of time that he was probably just crazy, the whole experience a dreamlike memory that didn't make any more sense to him than the past before the Event that he couldn't remember.

 

"What about you, though? You were lookin' really starry eyed and...I dunno...happy maybe up there. Whatcha thinkin' about?"

 

Brows flickered at the question.  What about him?  What had he been thinking about? "Nothing special... when I'm thinking I like to be where others aren't, others tend to be dickish.  Being quiet makes people uncomfortable.  Nobody appreciates the silence before the storm, just the flash and strength of the thunder.  Silence, is powerful. More powerful.  People like to squash it.  Up there, everyone just assumes I'm crazy and leaves me alone."

 

Fingers slipped from his pocket to travel absently over the back of his neck.

 

"I was going to get some dinner... but you probably don't want to come...  don't live anywhere, except a shelter here and there.  They feed me when I fix stuff."

[Guest Istas Trenor]

"See, now we're getting somewhere!" She laughed with a devilmaycare crooked smile, her hands easing in the pockets of his coat to hold it closed loosely while testing the given name. Saxon. It was certainly unique, but then her birth parents weren't exactly top of the mountain when it came to name choices. Istas; who names their kid Istas but assholes? Not that she knew a lick about her supposed heritage, but still! It was just cruel. "So Saxon ain't a virgin and thinks he's gonna disappoint a gal, AND has the balls to go streaking for all the world to enjoy. You like the cookin' under those looks?"

 

Her tease was pleasant, as she shifted on her feet, rocking from toe to heel at the cool burst from the bay that caused a plague of goose pimples to rise upon her dark skin. It pulled at her hair, sweeping raven length from her face and making her lift her chin a little as it did, smiling warmly with eyes closed. The Bay may still stink, but nothing beat a sea breeze. "Man, nothing beats an ocean wind..." Her voice was a hum of pleasure before the wind ceased and her head dropped back down to face him properly.

 

When he began to explain that it was just the pursuit of stillness and silence, her brows lifted, but not with intrigue. Just the thought made her want to jump and shout, just so she could be reminded of the freedom of it. She even cringed a little, though the shifter tried to cover it. "In a world turned on its head, Crazy is normal...silence is not. I'm not much for sitting still and silent, honestly. Did that too much the last few years; I'm out now and ain't keen to be doing it again. Silence may be golden, sug, but not to a jailbird." Her weight shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably again and she threw a glance away in an effort to avoid any questions he might pose about the issue.

 

The shyness that was more gentlemanly returned in the other and her eyes snapped back, following the movements of his hand over the back of his neck and how he asked her if she would like to join him for dinner. It was strange, being asked out, after so long, especially when it was often she who did the asking as forward and fearless as she tended to be. It warranted a tilt of her head at him and a suck of her lips in thought. "Girls get some nice looks when they walk about in nothing but a fella's coat, but do you really think it's proper to take a date naked to a shelter?" She winked at him, though, allowing that she wasn't upset, just stating the obvious. The alternative solution was simple.

 

"But nobody said anything about a man and his pet. Lets get some grub, sweet-cheeks, and then I'll get you a proper bed instead of a crummy cot. You can sleep at my place for the night. Repayment and all that gibberish."

 

She might not have the greatest digs in town, but Tog had gotten her setup reasonably well, considering. She had to count her blessings that working for (was it for him or something greater? She still wasn't quite certain on that front) him was beneficial in the end. She had a roof over her head and steady income now. Easy peasey!

 

With the words out of her mouth, Issy handed back his coat and shifted once again, her arms extending just a second before that flash came and replaced woman with raven once more. Her wings held her aloft for an instant before the hawk-sized avian landed upon his shoulder again, picking at his hair and purring as effectively as a cat, her feathery throat working with the sound.

 

[Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick]

"So Saxon ain't a virgin and thinks he's gonna disappoint a gal, AND has the balls to go streaking for all the world to enjoy. You like the cookin' under those looks?"

 

"Oh no.. you got it all wrong,"  his chuckle was dark, mischievous expression devilish,   "I never disappoint a gal."

 

Streaking?  Who said anything about streaking... brain tried to grab onto the thought but it was lost to the wind as his eyes caught the upward flair of her dark hair. Distracted.  Things that were unique, beautiful, distracted him- derailed rational thoughts that he fought to hard to string together for any period of time.  Fingertips rubbed together absently, jonesing for the feel of chalk in his hand. He needed to get it out, to purge the growing mural in his head that would become and obsession until he could pour it onto a sidewalk, or a building. The bird, her hair... tattoos.

 

"In a world turned on its head, Crazy is normal...silence is not. I'm not much for sitting still and silent, honestly. Did that too much the last few years; I'm out now and ain't keen to be doing it again. Silence may be golden, sug, but not to a jailbird."

 

"Then I should be the king of normal,"  words dark, brows flinched lightly at the word crazy.  He hated it, the sound of it, the mention of it.  Some of the people at the shelter called him crazy sometimes.  They ended up with broken noses.  He wasn't fucking crazy.

 

"Girls get some nice looks when they walk about in nothing but a fella's coat, but do you really think it's proper to take a date naked to a shelter?"

 

The frown was etched still on his features at the wink.  He didn't want to take someone to one of his shelters.  Normally the vagrant didn't give a shit one way or the other, but to people he liked... the girl at the coffee shop, the nice guy at the art store that saved up all the chalk stubs for him, he didn't like to talk about it... or where he spent his time.  To them, he felt like trash sometimes.  Such a shame.  It was what they said. Such a shame?  Why?  Because he couldn't keep a job?  He looked for jobs, nobody would hire him despite the amazing things he could do...

 

...eyes absently looked upward to the skeleton of a building.  That's why he came here. he'd built this building... and it was falling apart, like his sanity.

 

"But nobody said anything about a man and his pet. Lets get some grub, sweet-cheeks, and then I'll get you a proper bed instead of a crummy cot. You can sleep at my place for the night. Repayment and all that gibberish."

 

Lips pursed to protest as he took his coat and swung it back on... "Repayment for what?"

 

What had he done that needed to be repaid?  The trip down from the top of the building? Hell, he did that almost every day.  That light again... and she was gone, perched back to his shoulder.  He didn't want to take her to the shelter, normally he wouldn't care.. but he didn't have anywhere else to go.  He was starving... but it would have to wait.  Hand stuffed in his pockets, he moved through the darkening streets making a beeline for the art store he knew would be closing soon.  Trotting across a quad, bird still in tow like a Jiminy Cricket, he tapped at the back door- a stray dog asking for scraps.  He was going to draw and busk for some money.  The door opened, an elderly man's face lighting up.

 

*npc* Sax!  I have something for you, I've been trying to find you for the last few days... you haven't been checking in at the clinic.

 

Head cocked, clinic... clinic...  he was trying to put it together.  Ah!  His shrink.  Douchebag.

 

*npc*  Art fair tomorrow, wanted you to do a mural on the quad to spruce it up. It pays.  Whatever you want to do..

 

He blinked, watching the man hand him a box full of chalk.  The grinchlike curl upward of the corner of his lips was profound, he disappeared from the doorway.

 

"Chinese..." he muttered...  "No, pizza.  Deep dish New York pizza.  Vintage Killians."

 

It seemed he was talking to himself as he began to crawl across the courtyard sidewalk.  Swirls and lines became a reflection of the crack in the sky- mixed with white raven feathers and glossy ebony hair that curled upward from the rush of cool sea breeze- muttering to himself as he made dinner plans with the white raven.  Real dinner plans.  With money he made himself, oblivious to the incredible likeness of the woman that was emerging across the sidewalk swathed in the intricate lines of the feathers he'd been enthralled with. Sans naked, of course...

 

 

 

 

[Guest Istas Trenor]

Issy did not protest as they began to move, balancing easily and occasionally walking across to the other side to give her bird-talk in that ear. It was a comfortable perch she had, blunt-tipped claws light against the mans shirt. However, he did not take them to this shelter that had been mentioned; instead, he took them to...an art store?

 

Curious intrigue filled the Ravens mind and she watched the fellow in the doorway speak with Saxon, handing him what looked like a bunch of chalk before withdrawing back into the building he had come from. Sax moved away with his prize in tow, muttering dinner options, specifically traditional New York style pizza. Canting her head, snowy feathers would ruffle as she leaned out to peer at his face and gently nip his nose, that glazed concentration reflective of the time on the building from before.

 

They did not leave for dinner, however. The man, oblivious now to her, descended upon the concrete they crossed and set about drawing something, disturbing the pale bird who had taken residence on his shoulder. Issy lifted from him to land on a bike rack nearby, her wings relaxing downward to flutter against the steel, watching as he crawled and slithered his way about the quad. She could vaguely see shapes beginning to come out from the etchings he made in the fading light, vaguely see the way he began to apply shade and depth to the creation.

 

It was a fascinating watch, frankly, one the shifter was not keen to leave. As he worked upon the face of the figure, she could start making out features...features remarkably similar to her own. The raven fluffed her throat and rawk'd quietly, bobbing on the bike rack and trying to see more. He moved with a surprising grace, much like his descent from the building earlier, the self-proclaimed King of Normal dancing with his chalk over the stone...

 

Yielding her perch at last, Issy launched into the sky, snow-feathers catching in the light as the sun was filtered behind one building and hovered some ways overhead, peering down at him and...Oh wow. That...that is...

 

Amazement filled her breast and she quickly descended, landing more lightly on his shoulder and thunking her beak against the side of his head non-aggressively. The raven's throat worked to form the words a human had ease to and said, ~Really good!~

[Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick]

Nose scrunched playfully as it was nipped...

 

"Hey... you gotta buy me dinner for that,"  words were dark and frisky, oblivious to any passerby that he was talking to a bird on his shoulder. At least he wasn't talking to himself.

 

He had no idea if she could understand him in that form, she seemed to... unable to perhaps communicate back with him.  Brow ghosted downward as she flew away, lips pursing a moment until he was sure she had bot abandoned him.  He couldn't stop himself after that point, the promise of money... food, a chance to show someone he could actually make his own money collided with the rabid need to purge everything that had built up over the last few hours.  The more he worked, the larger it became... putting the finishing touches on it as the raven came to rest again on his shoulder.

 

Smirk was light at her thunk, hands completely covered in a sea of swirling colors. 

 

~Really good!~

 

“Thought I heard you say something before, thought I was just… hearing things.” 

 

He resisted the urge to wipe the mess on his threadbare Levi’s, instead reaching up quietly to boop a purple fingertip on the raven’s “cheek”.

 

“You had that coming,” he chuckled quietly and picked up what was left of the art supplies. Not much, stubs at best, trekking back to the store whose windows filtered their light over the masterpiece he’d just finished.  The elderly man stepped out the front door to take the box from him.

 

“Wash up?” he smirked, holding up the color explosion on his hands.

 

‘Jaques’ …  or Jack, he couldn’t remember nodded toward the back of the store, preparations already bustling outside to start setting up around his mural before the night got too dark.  Elbowing the door, he took his time getting the colors off.  His brain was unusually calm, it always was after a purge.  Wet fingers ran through his short curls before drying off with paper towel.

 

Food.  It was all he could think about now.  Emerging from the bathroom, Jack was already there with an envelope.

 

*npc* I know I’ve asked you this before, but you should really finish some pieces and bring them in.  Could make some money.  Find yourself a place.

 

Smoke watched the man a moment, it always seemed to make people unnerved. He didn’t know why.  He smiled lightly, then shook his head.  He wasn’t interested, he was never interested… pocketing the envelope and stuffing his hands in his pocket.

 

*npc*  Saxon, take care of yourself, okay?

 

He nodded and freed himself into the cooling air, walking a block before pulling out the envelope.  A hundred bucks.  Hot damn, his mind caught on the fact Jack didn’t invite him to the art show tomorrow.  His piece was the star of the show, but even the store owner didn’t want him around. He was a powder keg.

 

“Didn’t invite me to the thing tomorrow,”  voice was almost melancholy as he walked.  “Likes my stuff but doesn’t want me around.  S’okay,”  the shrug was dismissive, but his tone was slightly hurt.  “People are only nice to me when they want something.”

 

Footsteps trotted up to a storefront that smelled incredible, a little parking lot shop that had its woodstove chiminea right outside.  He ordered everything he could carry, sitting on the curb and waiting quietly... forced to get up and stumble backward when a car decided to ignore him and take his curb.

 

"Watch it, dick,"  he hissed, the darkness that hummed just under his skin spilling into the air.  They started to get out, fight.  Great, he was going to be in another fight.  Ah well.  Sleeves were yanked up, steel toe boot slamming onto the front bumper enough to bounce the entire car and lurch it backward, a distinct indentation in the metal bumper.  They paused, the closet Were's deadpan expression glaring back at them.  Their hands went up cautiously, then decided to back off.

 

A little disappointed, he was called over and he paid and snatched his pizza and beer.

 

“Where to?”  he asked the raven. "You say Nevermore.. and you can't have any pizza."