[OPEN] tam stulta mater tua est,

[fuckwashington]

WHO: Ronan Lynch and you(r mom).
WHERE: Various places, mostly in De Chima.
WHEN: The month of November.
WHAT: Monthly catchall log for Ronan's antisocial escapades around Virginia.
WARNINGS: Ronan Lynch and you(r mom).

a. BIRD INTERNET | de chima outskirts.

[Our story starts at a gas station on the edge of De Chima at 4AM.]

[This gas station has a hose, and Ronan has either paid or threatened the attendant to let him use it. His car is off to the side, spotless as ever, but he's not. Ronan Lynch is covered in bird crap, feathers and what might be vulture vomit. Somehow, he's managed to get this far without desiccating the car's leather interior (you can tell, because the driver's side door is open with the heat on full blast), but that luck can only last for so long. Slowly, Roan peels the disgusting clothing off so he can throw it over the nearest railing and hose it down.]

[He's wishing he'd worn some kind of undershirt to work, staring at his jeans with a look of mute betrayal. Christ, they've covered in shit. Does he really want to do this? Fuck everything.]

[Thankfully, you distract him before he has to decide whether or not to take off his pants. How long have you been staring? He looks up with a deep frown.] What.

[Haven't you ever seen a shirtless teenager covered in shit with a hose before?]

b. YOU CAN'T MARRY YOUR CAR | central de chima.

[Have you ever drag raced before?]

[This is what Ronan does on nights when he can't sleep and can't sit still. He finds out where the local delinquents race their shitmobiles, and he thrashes them. Is it cheating to use a car from a dream? Only in the ways Ronan doesn't want to think about.]

[There's a long stretch of clear, flat paving underneath the highway. If you avoid the cement support beams, you're basically on a racetrack. Ronan is readying his car (easily found by its distinctive license plate) for another round. Are you participating or spectating? Just try to keep up.]

c. BIRD ETHERNET | anywhere you want it bb.

[Do you know how to tell the difference between a raven and a crow? Ravens are fucking big, and this one's fully grown. Whatever you're doing, wherever you are, you notice one huge fucking bird in your way. She's probably perched on something high, out of reach, like a stop sign or a windowsill. This would be strange enough, but she's talking to you.]

[No, not with human-sounding words. She's not that special. She's just mimicing human speech as best as she can with a bird mouth.]

[Well? Don't be rude, say hi back.]

d. BIRD INTRANET | forest on the edge of de chima.

[It's somewhat late at night when you hear it. Who knows why you're walking through the forest, but suddenly there are footfalls far heavier than a human's steps would be, moving far faster than something that heavy should be able to. Accompanying this is a vague squawking sound, slowly getting closer.]

[Eventually, a creature appears in the moonlight. It's easily seven feet tall, and when it sees you, it stops dead. Slowly, slowly, the creature turns its head so its eyeless face can look (how can it look without eyes?) down at you.]

[Can it see you? What does it want? Who knows, but you better make up your mind fast. It's waiting.]

e. HOPE YOU LIKE DUBSTEP | anywhere in de chima with a road.

[The car outside has been there for ages. You know, because it's been blasting a selection of extremely loud, extremely annoying music the whole time. That, and because the car is distinct enough to recognize as it sits in the parking lot of whatever establishment you're patronizing. Finally, somebody walks toward the car and gets into it. Maybe they'll leave now, and take their blaring music with them. But, no, the asshole-- a teenager with a shaved head-- just sits in the car with the music still blasting on full.]

[He sees you staring out of the rear view, and smiles. It's not a nice smile. For a good measure, he flips you off. How friendly.]

f. WILDCARD

[Want to mix and match prompts? See something that sounds fun, but feel like adjusting it a little? I'm 100% game; you don't have to ask, but feel free to.]

[Ronan works intermittently at the bird sanctuary on the edge of De Chima, and races his car at night to make extra cash. He is rarely far from his pet raven, wherever he goes. Some nights, he checks on the giant birdmonster in the woods on the edge of town. If he's driving, chances are he's blaring horrible techno / dubstep / house music / electronica and disobeying the speed limit. Obviously, the car and the birdmonster can't leave Virginia, but Ronan and normal-sized-bird can.]

Comments

[boobwindow]

What part of "handed off to the authorities" are you misinterpreting?

[ She will not be defeated by a teenage boy!! ]

[fuckwashington]

[The blank stare on his face is bored defiance, totally, and not him stalling to come up with an argument for the position he backed himself into.]

Birdman has magic powers, lady. Do you really think the police here are really gonna make sure he stays in a locked box and never does anything dangerous ever again?

[boobwindow]

[ Ah, that old and tired out argument. She's heard it more than enough times from people she knows well enough, so she isn't about to take it from a complete stranger. ]

They'll do what they can and so will the rest of us.

[ She looks down her nose at him, flaring her nostrils in mild annoyance. ]

There are power dampeners to stop him from abusing his powers again.