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Attached
Dramatis Personae

Horus, Steve

2015-12-14


"I have it, my shield."

Location

<NYC> Harbor Commons - Space Station - Lower East Side


The soft grass and paved walkways of the courtyard give way to rubberized flooring in black and blue tiled squares, marking out the boundaries of the playground.

The equipment that stands on the softer flooring is brightly-coloured, a definitive space theme going on. To one side a tall rocketship takes the place of a more traditional castle, handholds on one side to climb up to the inside and a tall sliding pole and wavy long slide on the other sides to get back down; its inside holds an abundance of platforms and nooks for climbing and hiding.

The rocketship-castle is connected to a twin one by a swaying bridge and a set of monkeybars or, in a more roundabout fashion, a series of tunnels to climb through; on the other side, the ship is a tall climbing structure composed of cross-crossed beams and netting. Separate from the elaborate climbing structure, a swingset holds two side-by-side pairs of swings, and over to another side a large sandbox has a retractable cover to roll up over it when not in use.

The sun is setting on another oddly springlike December day. Springlike, too, is the twitter of birdsong currently sounding through the playground at the Commons. Chirruped low and cheerful -- though intermittently broken up with harsher squawks. A trio of ravens is just taking off from the top of the monkeybars. Left behind in their wake, Horus still sits on the structure, head bobbing up and down as he plucks his stylus up in his beak, tapping quickly at the tablet strapped to his chest; its screen casts an odd glow back up at his face.

Steve comes out of the Commonhaus, still smelling of dinner with just a touch of dish soap. He's wearing a clean but much-damaged red-and-black flannel, similarly torn blue jeans, and a knife at his hip. He waves at Horus and approaches, sitting down in one of the swings. "Hello, Horus." Kicks off the ground and sways back and forth, combat boots dangling. "Do you have a moment? I'd like to discuss something with you."

Horus's stylus continues to tap against the screen a few moments longer. 'One moment two moments three moments. Have moments several moments very important bird though. Very important business.' There's a small flutter of wings as he drops from the top of the swings, gliding down to settle on a swing beside Steve. It rocks unsteadily as he perches on it; he squawks, feathers ruffling up as his talons skitter side to side and then hook against the seat for purchase, waiting out the shaking.

Steve smiles, nodding. "You are certainly an important bird. What business do you need to see to, if you don't mind my asking?" He kicks his feet out casually on the upstroke, propelling his swing just a little further. "In any case, I'll try to be brief. I know you have given me many gifts, and I've not had much to give back, but I really do need my shield." He turns to flash Horus a rueful smile. "It's...not that I can't fight without it. I can. It's more..." He looks down at the ground as it rushes back and forth beneath his feet. "...like it's a part of me. Strange as that may sound, for something that isn't connected to me. Does that make any sense?"

'Very important deliveries,' Horus's tablet explains in sadly uninflected monotone. 'No my shield. Rubbish, nonsense, my shield. I hat gave gave gave no no wrong auto correct,' he smacks his stylus against his screen briefly, pausing after a moment to try again, 'I have it, my shield.' Though after a hesitation he rubs his beak against the side of the tablet, warbling softly. 'Part of me.'

"It never really even belonged to /me/, properly, but even so...yeah. Part of me." Steve shakes his head, as if he really doesn't really understand it himself. "Will you give it to me, then? As a gift? I guess it's not in the spirit of gifting, but I brought you something, as well." He roots a sleek, rectangular metal box from his pocket and arrests the movement of the swing so he can offer it to Horus: a lighter, decorated with rows and rows of gems that glitter in the twilight. "I'd been meaning to find you something nice anyway, but didn't know where or how, especially with the outbreak and..." He gestures vaguely around them with his other hand.

Horus's head bobs up and down, rapid and excited when Steve brings out the lighter. A sudden flurry of chirping sounds from him, and his stylus falls from his beak (it is, thankfully, attached to him by a stretchy cord around his neck) as he reaches out rapidly to snatch at the shinything. His swing is rocking crazily again as he leans in, bonks his head in against Steve's shoulder.

Then takes off, in a quick flap of wings, the swing still shaking unsteadily in his wake.