ArchivedLogs:Not That Kind of Dinner
| Not That Kind of Dinner | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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2015-04-03 Horuses are not for eating. |
| Location
<NYC> {Funhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side | |
The house might have started out looking capacious and respectable, but it has since moved through various incarnations, always colorful, but never colorful the same way for longer than a few days. There is little in the way of what most people would call furniture: a sectional couch buried in fluffy cushions, three bean bags of varying sizes, a scattering of bookshelves, what looks like a human-scale cat tree in one corner, and a low, square table surrounded by zafus. The floor plan is largely open, criss-crossed by rope bridges linking small elevated platforms to the landing of the second storey, beyond which lie the bedrooms. The kitchen is separated from the living room only by a long counter, lined with stools. Even the appliances are decked out in unexpected hues, edged with designs that change on a daily basis. A row of tins and jars runs the length of the breakfast counter, none of which match and all of which bear brightly colored text describing their contents: teas, coffees, mates, and various herbal blends. This week, Funhaus looks like a sci-fi wonderland set in the heart of a nebula. Great wisps of pink, purple, blue, and gold sweep across the deep dark star fields of the walls. Glimmering translucent creatures reminiscent of jellyfish cavort in and between these bands of color, and an occasional spaceship punctuates the star-studded black. The beanbags look like asteroids, and the couch like some sort blocky deep space freighter. Tag is setting the dining table with far more enthusiasm than such a task seems to warrant. He dances, bobs, and weaves around the chairs as he lays out bowls, spoons, and chopsticks. His bare feet drums on the starry floor as he moves. His skirt swirls around his shins, making the blue-purple gradient look dynamic. It might actually be, for all that, given the swirl of rainbow colors on his t-shirt are slowly rotating around a stark black Rebel Alliance symbol, and his almost-shoulder-length hair is slowly bleeding from blue to purple. He has laid out a fourth place setting, albeit without utensils, and sticks a shiny silver zafu on the seat. Tian-shin follows Tag from the kitchen and brings with her a large serving bowl in each hand--ma-po tofu and hot-and-sour soup, respectively, and a large plate heaped high with vegetable stir-fry expertly balanced on the crook of her left elbow. She sets these down and arranges them with fastidious precision on the table amongst Tag's chaos of colorful plats and mismatched chopsticks. "I still can't quite believe that just happened." This with an incredulous shake of her head, though she smiles faintly as well. "Does this house just /attract/ giant birds with an affinity for technology?" Joshua isn't helping. He's leaning against the back of one of the chairs, thumb tapping against the screen of his cellphone and his eyes fixed downward on it. Expression kind of impassive. "Don't think it's the house," he says mildly, "I think it's just you. Maybe it's the bright colors? Attracts 'em." "I /could/ make your clothes drab to protect you from future phone-theft," Tag says, a bit dubiously. "It would break my heart, but after all, you're my little sister. As for me, I prefer to live dangerously." He pulls out his /own/ phone, its case vivid blue with an iridescent sheen, and gestures with a free hand at his unapologetically colorful clothing. "Tea's up. Who wants oolong?" There's another rustle at the window. This time Horus is not swooping in so much as creeping. Flutter... creep? He doesn't have Tian-shin's phone anymore, though he /does/ have a tablet strapped around his neck. He makes his way into the house, gliding down to the floor and skitter-hopping over to the dining room. Rustling up to a chair. His head tilts one way and another to /eye/ Tian-shin suspiciously. Then hop over nearer Tag to lean down and pluck at /his/ phone with a happy little warble as his beak taps at the vivid case. Mmm. Tian-shin snorts. "If bright colors attracted phone-snatching birds, I don't think Tag would hang onto his as long as he does, which..." She snickers. "...admittedly doesn't say much. Fortunately, I have loss and damage insurance for my devices. Ever since that one protest--" The rest of her sentence dies on her tongue when she spots Horus. "Hey, that's the..." The rest of /that/ sentence also evaporates as she stares slack-jawed--first at the bird, then at the tablet, and last at the nonchalance of her housemates. "Guys. This bird. Has a tablet." Her eyes narrow at Joshua. "Are you doing this? With your..." One hand gesticulates vaguely at her temple, "...mind powers?" Joshua only briefly glances up from his phone when Horus arrives. Chin-lift. Small chin-lift. "What? Nah. My telepathy only works on humans." His brow creases briefly. "... right now, anyway." He straightens, tucking his phone back into a pocket. "Want a drink, dude?" And then, "Tian-shin, meet Horus. Horus, Tian-shin. S'Tag's sister. I promise she has zero intentions of kidnapping anyone and I'm /pretty/ sure no mutant trafficking ring." His eyebrows lift to Tian-shin questioningly. "You're not, right? Here to sell mutants to the highest bidder? I mean we are ripe farming grounds." "Sup, Horus?" Tag's grin flashes quick and bright. He starts decanting tea into a row of cups, all shaped like bamboo segments, but each with its own palette and patterns. "You want a touch-up while you're here, or new colors? After dinner, anyway. My sister's a great cook." He does dart a guilty glance at Tian-shin, fist tracing a small circle over the symbol on his chest. "Horus is a person, Mei-mei. And he's cool. Sorry for pulling your leg, but it /was/ pretty funny..." Horus carefully side-steps from one chair to another until he's walked his way over to Joshua's side. He deposits Tag's phone atop Joshua's head, nudging it /just/ so so that it balances there without sliding off. Only then does he pick up his stylus to start swiping at his screen. 'Can you pug-of-out-put moor silver in my block-black I will psi-pay you with this pretty blue phone I found.' His head bobs happily after making this VERY ENTICING OFFER. Though just as soon after he's looking back to Tian-shin skeptically. 'Joshua told me come to dinner he didn't day-day-day-day-day-day-day-say come be sold in your slave ring.' 'You cook you are very polite trafficker.' 'Wait are you trying to fatten me up I am skinny Borg-bird no meat st-at all.' Tian-shin's skeptical look at Joshua turns to frank and abject horror. "What! No, I would never kidnap or sell anyone!" She turns to Horus and bows, blushes deeply. "I had no idea you...that is, I wouldn't have tried to capture and sell you regardless. I swear it." She answers Tag's apology with a sigh and a shake of her head. "You can ask my brother, he's known me since I was born." She shuffles a couple of careful steps closer to study Horus, sheepish but curious. "I don't have a slave ring, and I'm not trying to fatten you up, either. You're our guest, and you can eat as little or as much as you like. "I didn't say come be sold because it's not that kind of dinner. It's just the kind where we eat. So much freaking food. You love ma po tofu, anyway." Joshua lifts one hand to hold the phone securely atop his head. With his other he drags out the chair with the zafu on it, indicating to Horus to sit. "Horus is absolutely not for eating, by the way." He tells Tian-shin this quite seriously. "He lives just down the courtyard. With Clarice and Ryan? Clarice you've probably seen. Prickly. Ryan -- maybe not so much. Punkass bastard." "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" Tag inspects Horus's plumage with a glint in his chickory-blue eyes. "Where and how much silver d'ya want? Like this?" He waggles his fingers, each nail a different pastel shot through with metallic glitter, and fine streaks of silver weave themselves into the iridescent black feathers on Horus's face, chest, and the leading edges his wings. "Just a sketch, you know I make it neater when it's for real. Looks kind of /frosty/, though, not very spring-like." He picks up the rice cooker by its folding handle and brings it over to mete out rice by the paddleful. "Maybe more like an even /dusting/ of silver?" The streaks diffuse out across the feathers, catching and reflecting light from every angle. Horus stretches out a wing thoughtfully, watching it as it changes. Thooooughtful. The inspection he is giving it is probably more thorough than it really needs. Finally he dips his head to write again, slow and also thoughtful. 'Dusting,' he proclaims seriously, reaching up to pluck the phone from Joshua's head and hand it over to Tag. Then settle himself slowly onto the cushion. And /inform/ Tian-shin, eyes grave though his tablet speaks in its same monotone: 'Horuses are not for eating.' He doesn't actually swipe much for this. Just a tap. Probably he has this sentence SAVED already. Tian-shin takes off the apron and hangs it on a rack by the entrance to the kitchen, then joins the others at the table. She has collected herself somewhat and ceased blushing, but still looks ill-at-ease. "I think I've seen someone I might describe as prickly, but punkass bastard doesn't really narrow it down." She swats playfully at Tag. "I will not, under any circumstances, eat you," she tells Horus solemnly as she takes her seat. Then, a bit shyly, adds, "The silver looks good on you." "Rockstar. You'll know him if you see him. Lots of shit looks good on Horus, he's classy." Joshua's smile comes easier when Horus settles into his chair. He takes a seat beside the teenager. Lifts his chin to Tian-shin, this time. "Smells delicious. Let's eat." | |
