open log;

[unguibusetrostro]

WHO: Ronan Lynch and you
WHERE: De Chima
WHEN: rest of June
WHAT: Open log!
WARNINGS: Ronan's mouth.

a; waiting outside with the car

[Because Ronan doesn't really work or go to school, sometimes he can be found with his car - new and matte and black, a sleek but shark nosed car he dreamed, familiar to anyone who lived in Henrietta in shape but not in color.

It's new.

He's sitting against the hood, watching people pass in the street, or more likely, not watching people pass in the street.

He's illegally parked, but just barely - the nose of his car nudging into a spot he shouldn't be. People are talking - albeit more about the imPort, some girls making noises, until one of them asks him for his autograph, and he raises his eyebrows, archly.]

Why the fuck would you want that?

[Possibly best to interrupt before someone gets really upset.]

b; animal shelter of de chima

[Remarkably what he is good at is animals. He's been coming in about two or three hours each day, to walk the dogs and shit, though he's better with the birds. He's not very sociable but at some point the adoption clerk at the desk needs to take fifteen minutes to field a call with her kid's school, so Ronan is at the reception desk making sure that no one is going to come in an kidnap a kitten.

He looks very formidable, except that there is a raven on one shoulder and on the other is a bright blue budgie that he keeps handing toys to.]

c; raven

[There's a raven with white stripes on it's wings - young but fully grown, and big, and it's hopping around one of the parks. He keeps opening his wings, like he's trying to figure out this flying thing. There's another raven up in a nearby tree, calling kerah! every few minutes, and the raven on the ground keeps looking up and hopping, cawing.

He spots you.]

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!

[It's clearly mimicking. Right? Right??]

d; wildcard

[Give me a starter! Or pm or plurk me for a request!]

Comments

c!

[rathercommon]

[ And flying up is another raven - very similar to him, though smaller, with stripes of more of a silvery color, and no signs of aggression at all. She soars down to land on the ground next to him. And she opens her beak to speak. ]

Hello, there. Is that...Ronan?

[unguibusetrostro]

[He looks at this new raven, one that speaks. Chainsaw cries out from her perch - kerah! - and Ronan peers at Kitty.

The fact is he can't actually speak as a raven. He can only do basic calls, single words, but that doesn't mean he can't figure out a way to communicate with Kitty.]

Kitty? Kitty?

[This is annoying, but doable. He opens his wings a bit.]

[rathercommon]

[ She gives a little bob of her head, satisfied. Excellent. She'd thought so, just from his strange behavior; this confirms it. ]

Quite right. Hello, there. Are you ready to learn to fly?

[unguibusetrostro]

[He opens his wings, like, well. Yes. Here he is.

And he hops forward a little, but opens them again. Tell him how. Mechanics of flight, please.]

a!

[5055034455]

[Saul knows this kid on sight. Not because they've met before — hell, he's never even noticed him on the network — but because he knows Ronan's type.

And God help Saul, but he just can't seem to resist the siren song of shitheads.

Especially when they're about to cause trouble.

He breezes over as soon as the girl's expression crumbles, pen already in hand.]

Ladies, ladies — please excuse this young man. He's had a long day. Here. [He gestures for a piece of paper, something to sign.] Now I know, I know, I'm not nearly as dreamy as your bad boy here, but you'll get more money for my John Hancock someday. I was on television.

[And then he tosses a look back at Ronan like, No offense. Please play along.]

[unguibusetrostro]

[It would be hard to catch him on the network, because Ronan treats the Network like it's made of poison.

But Ronan stares at Saul - who is this asshole - with a baffled expression on his face. The girls are already perking up a little - this isn't as good, because let's face it, they were here to try and start a conversation with the darkly cute guy with the tattoo curling out on his back over his shirt collar and across his shoulders, but hey.

Famous guy?

Apparently?

Good enough.

Ronan watches this impassively.]

You're no king.

[He says it almost dismissively. But it comes out almost as a question.]

[rathercommon]

Right. All right.

[ Hum. Okay. She flutters her wings a moment and tries to figure out how to put instinct into words. ]

You know how to swim, right?

[unguibusetrostro]

[He considers that. Yes.

So he shifts on one leg, then the other, and nods a raven nod.]

[rathercommon]

Right. Well. It's a bit like swimming through the air. [ She holds out her wing to demonstrate, giving a slow flapping motion, pushing down and behind. ] Your wing is shaped perfectly to scoop and push air downwards behind you. And you're light enough that that pushes you upwards. So it's like pushing you up and forwards through water.

[unguibusetrostro]

[This is better - he can't get Chainsaw to demonstrate so he can watch this in slow-motion.

He tries a bit and gets a little lift, just a bit.

Actually this is easier than what he's been trying before.]

[rathercommon]

Oh - good! Good!

[ Her wings flutter in delight. ]

You use your legs to jump up in the air first, to get clear of the ground to really lift off. Here, look -

[ She launches herself up into the air, does a quick turn around the clearing, and then lands back on the ground again. ]

Think you can do that?

b.

[oddbod]

[The door to the shelter jingles as Clara walks in, and - oh, hey, there's a new face. She gives Ronan an irritatingly bright smile as she deposits a ball of caramel-colored fluff on the floor. There's no way that's a real cat, no way at all. Its face looks like something's backside.]

Hello! [A little wave as she goes to sign in.] I don't think I've seen you around here. I'm Clara.

[She deals with irritable teenagers for a living. That face of his isn't going to scare her off from being a ray of sunshine.]

C - June 20th

[dirtyredneck]

Yeah, fuck you, too.

[Daryl called back, an amused smile on his lips as he paused in his current trek through the park.]

[unguibusetrostro]

[He tries it - the first few times he has some serious crash and burn problems, but then he manages to get all movements to work together.

Okay.

Okay he's doing this-

-he's doing this-

And then he's flying. It's not effortless but he's flying, really flying. He caws in triumph for all that he doesn't fly far, onto to a bench nearby, but then he's hopping, doing the raven equivalent of a victory dance.

He flew.]

[unguibusetrostro]

[He gives the budgie another toy, but the budgie is holding it and staring at the cat. The cat is staring at Chainsaw. Chainsaw is staring at Clara.]

What the fuck is that thing.

[Ronan is staring at the cat.]

[unguibusetrostro]

[Oh, hey, he knows that guy. And so does Chainsaw - she crows at him, and Ronan hops closer, closer, and opens his beak. He doesn't seem to open it to ask for anything, but almost to say hello.

And then he emits the loudest screech he can, and gives the equivalent of a raven cackle as he comes closer.

This guy wouldn't hurt a bird.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Well, he wouldn't hurt a raven. At least not right now. He wasn't starving for dinner and he didn't need any feathers for fletching his bolts. At the hopping and the scream, Daryl grinned outright and gave a snort. The closest thing to laughter he ever really got.]

You like that, huh?

[He lifted his chin and started toward the bird, slow and careful. It was acting curious, but that didn't mean it was friendly or wouldn't run away at his approach. Even if ravens were known to be pretty fearless little fuckers.]

I ain't got no food on me...

[Daryl still reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a bottle cap he'd kept because it'd been interesting. Nice and shiny one side.]

But I got this if you're collecting.

[rathercommon]

Oh, well done!

[ She flutters her wings in a way that suggests that she'd absolutely clap if she were human. And she flaps up to join him on the bench. ]

Right, do you want to just practice this for a while, or do you want to try a bit of soaring?

[unguibusetrostro]

[He comes closer, tilts his head, hops. And hops. And-

Oh, shiny.

He doesn't know why his bird brain is interested in shiny things, but it is. It's like he has some instincts that he can't help. He comes in closer and spreads his wings, and reaches for the bottle cap, taking it in his beak.]

[unguibusetrostro]

[He considers it. He wants to really fly, really get up there. So he spreads his wings.

Teach him that shit.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl was squatting down by then, balancing on the balls of his feet. He doesn't try to fight the bird for the bottle cap. Let's it go easy. Stays that was for a little more before he finally sits his butt down, knees drawn in and honestly looking pretty damn uncomfortable.]

So what're you cussing the world out about, anyway? Your friend up there been laughing at you 'cause you're still learning to fly or something?

[He glanced toward the one in the tree, who had greeted him before the stripey one.]

[unguibusetrostro]

[He hops in a little closer with his bottle cap, and looks this guy over, and then looks up at Chainsaw, who is puffing her feathers up a little. He sets his bottle cap down, and kaws - it's a specific cry, it's how he says her name when he's like this, and she replies with a kerah- but then flies down, and looks at the bottle cap. She's a little warier - she saw this guy fight Ronan, after all - but then she takes the bottle cap.

Ronan spreads his wings and hops.

No, he doesn't know how to fly. But he hops up until he's on Daryl's knee, eyeing him.

He may be dirty hillbilly trash, but he's also really interesting from this angle.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl raised an eyebrow at the claiming of his knee. Very bold move on this guy's part. Well, if the raven was gonna be so forward, so would Daryl. Though definitely with some caution. He wasn't stupid.

He did expect to get a quick peck or a bite before he was allowed to start petting the bird, but Daryl still reached out - slowly so the bird could track his hand - and attempted to run his fingers gently down it's back.]

Know how hard that is. I'm still learning to fly m'self.

[He didn't expect the bird to understand, of course. Just that it felt more comfortable confessing something like that to someone with the same trouble. Specially if they weren't human and couldn't bring it up later. Daryl's tone was very soft, very quiet. The usual gruffness he normally had seemed to abate as he murmured, attempting to maintain a calmness that would keep the birds feeling safe. Or safe enough to stay.]

Ain't lucky like you. Know it's hard on your end, but you got instincts. You was made to fly. Not like me.

[unguibusetrostro]

[He does give him a quick bite but it's fine - he's being petted by a strange gross hillibilly but his bird brain seems to be fine with this. No wonder Chainsaw liked it so much.

He allowed it for the moment, because what the dude was saying was way more interesting. It's an odd thing, when Ronan relates to a person. The last person who he had this much of a quick insight into was Kavinsky, and that turned out like a fucking oilfire. He cocks his head with that bird manner, and opens his wings.]

Fly, fly, fly.

[Like a command.

Because really that's all Ronan wanted too. He wanted to fly.]

[dirtyredneck]

Got yourself quite the vocabulary, ain't ya?

[Daryl deftly moves his fingers as he's petting to avoid the open wings and starts petting the feathers along the underside of the raven's chin and down to his belly. Still keeping the touch light enough that it - hopefully - wouldn't seem like a threat.

He continues the petting, but his eyes stray from the bird to the area around them. Checking to make sure they were alone. Or at least that there weren't any natives hiding around with cameras. Not ones close enough for him to see, anyway.

When he thought the coast was clear, Daryl slid his hand down the bird's stomach so he could slip his hand up under the raven and lift it up off his knee. He kept his fingers slightly splayed in case it wanted to re-balance itself on his hand. Why he did it became obvious as he let his legs fall so he was sitting Indian-style and he could lean himself forward.

In the next moment, the leather of his vest rolled across his shoulder before the cloth wings sewn into the back surged upward as they became real and broke free of their cloth confines. He let them spread behind him in a stretch - looking about the size of a pelican's, spanning about 9 feet when fully extended- before they settled against his back just like a bird's. The whole time, Daryl kept his eyes on the raven, studying it. Seeing if it reacted at all. If it could understand, with all the intelligence ravens were supposed to have, that it was him who had wings and not a large bird.]