ArchivedLogs:Birds Of a Feather

Birds Of a Feather
Dramatis Personae Alex, Marinov	2017-09-03 "True enough, gotta stick together."
Location <NYC> Times Square
Lights and billboards scattered over the skyscrapers that line Times Square. A gaggle (murder?) of tourists are spread through the square at all hours of day and night, gawking at the tall buildings and taking photos of nothing in particular. Times Square is a place of theatre, certainly, but mostly it is one giant tourist trap that no self-respecting New Yorker would be seen in for longer than it takes to leave. The day before Labor Day in Times Square is exactly the madhouse that one might expect, even despite the cool weather. Where there is normally a steady flow of tourists through the square even into the late afternoon, today the square is still packed into the night. Vendors have not let this potential opportunity go unnoticed; herds of unmoving statue-people are scattered among stalls of people hawking shirts, peanuts, and all varieties of tourist garbage. Artists, too, are spread along the courtyard's walls, some with easels and broad cartoony sketches, others with more sedate framed work. Alex, tattered hood pulled up over his head, is one of them. Smiling shyly at passers-by as he draws on his ever-present sketchpad, Alex has managed to rope a passing couple into bartering about the price of a framed pencil drawing of the charging bull of Wall Street -- with a single raven sitting on one of the horns. Marinov is out, wearing a pink summer dress with a black belt cinched around their waist and fur still silver and rainbow. They look down at the phone in their hand every few moments while ambling about in the crowd, easy enough because most of the people in the crowd seem eager to part when they move through. They pass by all of the tourist trap wares, looking curiously to see what is being sold, before pausing in front of Alex. They sniff the air a couple of times lightly and then tilt their chin up towards him in greeting, "Hey, Alex. Gettin' much business out here?" "Marinov!" Alex says, voice brightening. He glances quickly at the couple in front of him and then Marinov, and quickly reaches out to take the credit card that one of them is holding out -- just as they turn to look over Marinov and take a step back. "A-Alright, seventy, as you said. But just because it's a holiday." Alex swipes the credit card through a reader on his phone and then holds the phone out to the couple. He doesn't give them the card back until after the husband has signed for it. As soon as he's passed framed drawing and card over, the couple practically flee from in front of Marinov. "Sorry about that. Come on, have a seat, if you want." Alex pats next to him on the small brick wall he's sitting on. "Comes and goes. Mostly prints." His teeth worry at his bottom lip. "I'm thinking about dropping the prices on the originals. I don't know...." Marinov hops up and takes a seat next to Alex, "Shoulda waited for that transaction to finish before almost chasing off your customer!" They manually pull their tail so that it hangs off the other side of the brick wall. "I should probably very loudly and proudly talk about my ultra-realistic fur suit so that the tourists don't think I'm any kind of scary mutant," muses the teen, "Are your originals not selling much?" "Not nearly as much." Alex says, sighing. "I'm selling the originals for a hundred plus a frame, and the prints for 30. But I've been here all day, and I've only sold one original. Two, if you count the one I just knocked thirty off of." The raven-haired boy shrugs his shoulders and waves a hand. "It's alright. I had to move earlier because I let my hood down and got chased out of the square. You'll be fine." Alex places his sketchpad down on the plastic crate serving as his display table. "How are you, Marinov?" "Been doing alright, getting geared up for the new school year. Another year, another new batch of students," says Marinov, nodding, "I'm gonna try and get a fashion club established, mostly for like, helping outfit other people who need a bit of custom work to their wardrobes." They look down and around over Alex's wares curiously, "How about you? What's going on?" "Oh, you know." Alex shrugs his shoulders, glancing briefly at one passer-by who slowed down for a moment -- nope, not a customer; just gawking at Marinov. "Trying to save money for winter. Gotta get some of the newcomers some warm jackets and blankets and things. Seeing if we can stabilize the money situation a bit more so we don't have to... be as creative." There's a brief, wry smile on Alex's face, and he glances down onto the work spread out in front of him. "Maybe... maybe try and get some paperwork to actually. You know. Be able to get a real job. Or school, or something." Marinov waves at the openly staring passer-by with a blank look on their face, before looking back towards Alex. "Ah, yeah, that's important. You know, if there's anything that I can help out with..." They trail off and rub the back of their neck lightly. "What kind of paperwork would you need to get in order to get a so-called real job? I... sorta don't like thinking much about my 'after high school' life. I need to coast on this high school student gig as long as I can." Alex winces and glances around, swiveling his head this way than that in a distinctly prey-like gesture. He leans in towards Marinov, voice lowering. "Well, I never finished high school. And I'm not... supposed to be in the US. It's not like they ask birds for their passports, you know?" A pause. "And... I'm not registered." He bites his lower lip, worrying the skin back and forth. "It's not like I can put my address down as 'Under New York' or something." "Oh, I see, yeah... The doctors made me register when I was in the hospital. I only found out later that I didn't have to actually follow through on that 'til I was older..." says Marinov a bit uncomfortably. They nod and say, "I can understand why it'd be better to be supporting yourself with your art, yeah." "Yeah, especially since I think I'd get kicked out of the country if I tried to register." Alex rubs the toe of his shoe against the pavement, silent for a few moments. "It's not like I couldn't go home, you know? My parents might take me back. If they even think I'm still alive. It's been... a couple of years. I don't know." Alex sighs, a long exhale as he looks miserably down at the pavement. "I don't like thinking about it too much." "Yeah, man, that sounds rough," says Marinov sympathetically, their tail swaying slowly back and forth. "Like I said, if there's anything I can do to help out, well, I'd try at least, you know?" They glance around at the crowd. "I feel like, for me at least, that here feels a bit more like home than where I came from. I think it'd probably be sorta weird to go back." "I still miss it some days." Alex says, looking around the crowd of people. "Though, I'm not sure... that might just be missing having to deal with all this shit, you know?" He shrugs his shoulders, not looking Marinov in the eyes. "It feels like forever ago that I was just another normal kid, eh?" He reaches out and grabs Marinov's shoulder, squeezing it once. "Thanks, Marinov," he says, eyes downcast. "I think this is one thing I've gotta just deal with... if I ever deal with it." He glances over the table of art work in front of him. "I wouldn't mind going back to school. University, I think. I'm done with high school." Marinov looks a bit startled upon being touched, but they nod towards Alex once. "Yeah... even though it's only been a few years for me since," they just gesture widely towards their face, "it feels like a lot longer than that." They consider for a moment and then say, "University seems like it'd be alright, I mean, I don't know what the campuses would be like. I think that, even though it's not been perfect or anything by a loooongshot, I've been a bit spoiled by going to Xavier's." "Yeah, I guess. I would want to stay in New York. My family is here, you know?" Alex says, smile brightening briefly on his face. "My new family, I mean. But... I think I need to get more serious about my art if I want to be able to live off of it. But, there's only so much I can do on my own, eh?" Alex picks up his sketchbook and leafs through it, holding it angled slightly so Marinov can look through his in-progress works with him. "Then again, I can barely afford the paper and pencils. I don't know how I'd afford university." Marinov leans forward to get a look at Alex's art, ears perked forward with interest. "Yeah, university is like... real expensive. I definitely think that, like, the government should pay for stuff like that. Getting people educated is good, right?" They shake their head disapprovingly, "Good that you have, like, some new family. Finding a place where you feel like you belong... it's pretty tough." "They do... in Canada. We pay for school, eh?" Alex says, grinning, and holds the notebook out for Marinov to take. "It was hard for the first bit here. Took me a while to come to New York City, too. I was really happy that Anole found me." He pulls the hood briefly off of his head to run his hands through the feathers on top of his scalp -- during which time, a tourist passing by gapes at Alex and Marinov and takes a photo -- before pulling the hood back up over his feathered skull. "Do you feel you've found that at Xavier's?" Marinov waves again at the photo taking tourist, still with a blank expression, before answering. "At Xavier's? No... not really. I mean, I've made some good friends there and stuff, but it's still more of a school than a community. And like... umm. I feel like I've gotta live up to a different set of expectations than some of the other kids. There's some things that I'm good at, and some things that I'm not so good at, but they act like I should be a fucking star at the bare minimum. I'm a star or I'm shit. So... it's just a school to me, I guess," says Marinov, leaning back and kicking a leg up. "I'm glad Anole found you too." "You know..." Alex pauses, looking up at the sky for a moment. "You know you'd always be welcome with Anole and me and everyone. It's not exactly the best living situation in the world, but it's safe, and it's among people who understand. You know?" Alex says, red staining at his cheeks. "I'm... I'm not good at this, like Anole is. He'd know how to say all the right things. Just... keep in in mind, alright?" Marinov tilts their head slightly and then looks up towards Alex, nodding in understanding, "I'll... yeah, I'll keep that in mind. It's probably real nice to be around people who, yeah, understand." They gesture off towards the picture-taker just was. "I try not to be scared about being, like, open and shit but... sometimes in the city, wearing something like this, I feel pretty exposed. Somewhere safe'd be nice." "Yeah. This is a lot for me. I don't really feel that comfortable up here, unless I'm. You know. Birds." Alex's smile tilts a little bit, looking around the city. "Nobody looks twice at me when I'm flying through the city. Not a lot of birdwatchers in New York City, I guess." He chuckles and looks around the tourists. "Hiding in plain sight. But, with the rest of the family... neither you nor I are the weirdest looking one." "Birds. You know, sometimes I find it sorta overwhelming just being me and in my own head. I can't imagine being several mes," comments Marinov, still looking upwards for a moment, "Flying seems like it'd be cool though. I do, like, parkour and it's awesome but not really the same at all." They look down and give a third blank wave to a staring passer-by. "I guess weirdness is in the eye of the beholder, but I believe it. If I get down on all fours, I look like a pretty normal, boring, everyday jungle cat." Alex laughs, head tossing back and hood sliding back partially to tangle in the mess of feathers. "It's not so much that it's several me's. It's just me... in more than one body." He shrugs his shoulders and crews on the inside of one of his cheeks. "It's hard to explain," he confesses. "It's the strangest when I'm switching around. Then it's like I am, and I'm not." He waves a hand non-committally in the air, shaking his head. "Flying is awesome, though." "Yeah, I imagine that's one of those things that you've gotta be able to do to really understand," says Marinov, scratching the back of their neck lightly. "Unfortunately, the only flying that I can do is straight down. But I can jump like nobody's business! That's why I've got such toned legs." They pet along their own knee momentarily. "So I can do slam dunks." Alex chuckles and shakes his head. "It's probably a good thing that you aren't a jungle cat, and I'm not really birds. Birds and cats don't tend to get along, you know. At least, not in a way that the birds like. I'm sure the cats are just fine with it." His voice is lightly teasing, eyes warm and smile hanging easily from his lips. "Maybe you should try out for basketball as a second job. You could be a player /and/ design all of their clothing." The teenager looks up at someone who stops by, smile still intact, though it does turn a little bit more fixed at the edges. "Prints are thirty, and originals are a hundred. Comes with a free frame!" Alex chirps, pleasantly enough. The tourist glances for only a moment before turning and leaving without a word. "Yeah, cats are fine with the arrangement. They love chasing things. Which I sorta get now, I like, umm, chasing stuff I guess," they remark, a bit awkwardly. "I could /also/ be the mascot, so like, they only have to pay one person for three jobs. Now that's capitalism at work, the engine of industry presses forward!" they say, hands up in the air facing forward positioned as if framing something. Their ears flick when the tourist leaves quietly, "I should probably stop spooking all the tourists. Or at least... herd them towards you or something." "Birds aren't as appreciative. But, don't worry about it," Alex says, shrugging his shoulders and stretching. "I've been here for a while. I should probably head home soon anyway before it gets too late." Alex looks around the crowd and then to his box. "I don't really want to be going home really late at night. Just in case. I can't really fly with the box, and I'm always twitchy about not being able to fly away," he confesses. He pauses for a second. "Plus, if they don't want to buy from me because you're here, I don't really want to sell to them. Birds of a feather..." Marinov laughs softly and pats Alex on the shoulder before hopping on down, "True enough, gotta stick together." They glance from side to side and then back over their shoulder, "Hey, if you want some company on your way back? Could, you know." They rub behind their ear lightly, "Go with you at least part've the way?" "Sounds good." Alex says, flashing Marinov a bright smile. Standing up, the older boy leans down and begins packing up his drawings to move. "I'd love the company," he says, lifting the lid and carefully packing away the prints in the plastic box. "Pass me the ones from the front."