Birdie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
acaseofyou) wrote2021-09-10 11:36 pm
acaseofyou) wrote2021-09-10 11:36 pm
open post
they say that death is a tragedy it comes once, and it's over
they say that death is a tragedy it comes once, and it's over
they say that death is a tragedy it comes once, and it's over
@noreasonneeded
Exactly. Keeping secrets about everything is just as much about personal survival as it is the survival of all the rest of us. Even just telling you what I have would be considered criminal if you should decide to turn me in. So I'm very glad that you've proven as trustworthy as your reputation implied.
A trick for making people intimidated. When I'm lucky, intimidated enough to just run away and leave me alone.
no subject
I’m never above using the talents of those around me, so that’s good to know. Likewise though, if you ever need a hand that involves less of your talents for your own safety, I’m fairly adept at filling different roles.
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@noreasonneeded
Despite her name, Birdie doesn't have the skill to crawl through a window to Kaz's office. Even if she did, she wouldn't risk it with how much she's carrying and how fragile he record is after all these years. Dropping it from a height might be more devastating a thing than getting caught out at sunrise.
It's precious, a relic of a life she both stopped living and holds close even now. Most of the songs are still covers, because that's how folk music tends to operate. Old songs and songs that just sound old and a couple that she wrote herself. For something made specifically to be sold and listened to by people other than herself, it's rare to have the inclination and the ability to let someone else so much as know about it.
So, she comes through the front door like a normal person, waves a hello to anyone that's still sitting up, and slips upstairs to visit with the exception to so many of those unspoken rules.
He's expecting her, but she does knock before opening the door. If he's forging something, probably best to not just barge in and have his hand slip.
"Your background noise has arrived!" The cheer in her voice is a little forced, a little put on, as if to mask how big it is to share this particular noise with him. As much as he's heard her sing since she's been here, and as much as she's told him, this feels more intimate than just showing off a relic of the past.
Yeeeees, thanks for starting!
It’s so late it’s early, or so early it’s late, one of the two. Still with a few hours of night sky left, which is good. He could have used the office he took over from Haskell on the first floor, but he’s expecting Birdie and he doesn’t want to get interrupted. Not when she’s sharing something so personal with him. People he finds are much more inclined to problem solve for themselves when they have to walk up three flights of stairs. In his office that doubles as a bedroom in the converted attic, he can also take off his shoes and loosen his tie, which is about as far as he goes looking slightly less perfectly put together. There’s a coffee pot on his desk and a mug that’s half drunk, both looking like they’re years past when they should be replaced. Kaz doesn’t care. He’ll use an item until it breaks and can’t be fixed. His outfit is expensive, it’s for show, but his bedroom? All secondhand furniture and items that he’s been accumulating since he acquired the building at twelve for Haskell to put his name on, with very few exceptions of ever being replaced.
The desk is simple wood with nicks, his pillow is all but a pancake at this point. The bookshelf doesn’t at all match the worn wall paint, but the books are lovingly and obsessively organized. It’s a small collection, but loved. Everything is neat and organized, clean to the point of a little side eyeing, but simple. As if at heart he’s a farm boy turned street rat who can’t pass by giving anything a second chance.
At the knock he’s about to rise but honestly is glad he doesn’t have to when Birdie lets herself in. Looking up from his desk, he sets his pen aside and quirks up an amused eyebrow at her enthusiasm. His gaze as usual is sharp and dissembling, but it’s not out of desire to pick her apart. He simply doesn’t know how to function on a level aside from intense and focused. “Oh good, I was this close to starting to sing to myself,” he holds up fingers an inch apart. “And we all know that would be disaster.” He slowly gets to his feet, waving her in. There’s another seat on the other side of his desk, the window ledge that Inej has lovingly claimed over the years, and his bed. There’s also a record player that he carried upstairs earlier on his dresser.
“Wait, should you do an intro first? Tell me what I can expect? The names of the songs to tease? Or should we get right to it?” The tone is teasing, but he’s genuinely trying, in perhaps an awkward way, to give her some time if she needs it before starting the music.
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@exterminatory
I'll take that bet. What do I get when I win?
ty for moving!
Winner's choice.
And if you lose I'll just never let you forget the Pinecone Incident.
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@polychromous
Yeah that sounds about right. I do trust your judgement in people, despite dirt jails and dragons.
Also, just in case I forget to tell you if it gets dire: if anyone shoves wood in my chest and I look dead, just take it out again. I'll be mostly fine.
no subject
Good to know. Any other tricks like that?
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@morder
My rates are I get to make you listen to one playlist entirely for every date you land.
It's steep but it's fair.
Don't think you need to budget for that. I can throw my voice pretty well if you wanna play Cyrano de Bergerac.
no subject
how long are these playlists
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@cryptoherpetology
That makes sense, but you might've had a rat & other items fridge. Singular rat fridge is different.
Guess we'll just have to see if he has a song in his heart then.
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I'm assuming any song in Crow's heart is probably something close to early Eminem.
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@noreasonneeded
How do you know for sure one of them isn't in those voicemails already?
Sounds like my kinda center, to be honest. Not that I've had problems with my initial vision, but I am a fan of experimentation.
TY for moving, part 2!
I always liked that ideology, too. Not from an artist perspective, I'm not an artist, but I've had times where my initial plans weren't turning out how I anticipated and had I closed off alternatives to consider, I probably wouldn't be alive right now.
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@noreasonneeded
Anything is magic if you believe, Kaz. There's whole movies about it.
Right? Getting a sing-along with them is a bonus, though, that I'm always happy to provide.
TY for moving!
Driving is monotonous without something to listen to, so I'm not surprised some enjoy it. Teleportation would be one power I'd find immensely useful. Cut down on travel time.
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for @noreasonneeded
Her last set at the club for the night is distracted, though only the Dregs might notice it. Pigeons are oblivious creatures, and gamble the same as they always do when she sings, full of high risks and minimal rewards with barely a murmur of disappointment at the tables. When it's over, she heads straight back to the Slat without the usual lingering and conversation.
Kaz wants to try touching, something that has as many wonderful opportunities as it does potential for disappointments. None of which she wants to miss by not making it back to the basement with enough time for it before sunrise.
Really, she hasn't done as much to the space as she normally does more permanent havens. Partly because she traveled light when she came to Ketterdam, and partly because she's been so distracted with Kaz and jobs and everything else at night that she hasn't had too much time to really nest. But she has done her usual--any sliver of window is covered with either thick curtains or insulation. One curtain is hung between the space where the bed was placed and the door that leads upstairs, an extra little barrier on any errant sunlight that might creep its way down. The rest of the walls, too, are covered in fabric. Not quite tapestries, but random yards of scrap picked up from any number of places, colorful and thick enough to act as a rudimentary soundproofing.
And pillows. On the floor, on the two chairs that look like they were spare from somewhere else and had wound up down here ages ago for storage.
She's in the middle of contemplating if any of that fabric would help this touch-related venture when she hears his cane on the stairs and calls, "Come in," in the direction of the door, lilting and not half as nervous sounding as she is that she might mess this up.
TY for starting!
With someone he wants to touch.
He wants to get better, to heal, and while this first step is causing his stomach to summersault the closer the hour approaches, he’s also determined enough not to back out.
The day has been busy but not overwhelming in another way. Standard by his measure, which is good, because he’s not approaching her room already upset. He’s wearing one of his suits, something he feels at home in, and his trusted cane clacking on the ground is enough to announce his presence. The familiar voice of Birdie sings out to him to enter, he can’t separate musicality from her even when she’s just speaking. That might be a construct of his mind, it might not, but it makes him smile a little with the familiarity of it. He flexes his fingers and opens the door, stepping inside and then shutting the door behind him with the end of his cane.
Glancing around, he takes in the space and what the few things are that she’s done with it. It’s not overly done up, but then, they lead busy lives in the Slat. The air is scented with her however, and the soft pillows and spots of color seem fitting. The Slat is an anchor for him, but so is the woman in the space right now. Funny, perhaps, given how fleeting she could be by her admittance, but she’s a steady presence for him. “I like what you’ve not really done with the place,” he says by way of teasing, moving to stand near her. “Are we sitting on the floor? I’m all right with that.” It’s easy enough to stretch out his leg, and she’s definitely got enough pillows for it.
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@needsnoexcuses
Beans, queens, cleans, keens, spleens...
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and 'spleens' goes in a little bit of a horror direction
I don't know, maybe you have an organ collection you're hiding somewhere, but do I really want to reveal that to the world?
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@firstimpression
I suppose that's an acceptable alternative to bumper balloons. Will giving me my weed back after be my reward for good behavior?
@noreasonneeded
I got up there, didn't I??
Damn. Wish I'd been there for that one. Maybe with a polaroid camera, too. For posterity, of course.
TY for moving!
Is that one of those cameras where you need to shake it after you take it?
you're very welcome!
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@exterminatory
Seems a waste of top hat real estate to only have one.
That make me the flying squirrel? Because I bet I could pull that off.
tyty
1) persistently nocturnal
2) weirdly sociable (like will share their dens with screech owls and bats)
3) cute but can do a real number on your insulation if they so choose
Yeah, you'd made a great Glaucomys volans.
ywyw!
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@yeahmagnets
You think we could manage it sober?
Of course I secured it.
Tuesday nights, which aren't great for crowds, but it's better than busking.
no subject
i'm like a frickin' ninja.
i could probably get some more people to show
i mean if you want
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@yeahmagnets
Is he the one that died from a sting ray?
[ Forgive her, sometimes her pop culture references get a little muddled. ]
Exactly.
Supervillains don't make baby fruit videos.
Anyway the lesson here is this is what happens when you hang out with people that have kids. You learn too much about baby videos.
no subject
anyway, there's this part where a guy pulls a switchblade on him and tries to rob him and he's like "that's not a knife. this is a knife" and he pulls out a huge like footlong hunting knife lol.
not too many people i hang with got kids. but i did grow up with a little brother, so.
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@noreasonneeded
That's surprisingly sweet. But maybe I can slip you a few polaroids for your desk drawers. Right by the jerky.
There's ones that play music?? Yes. Those ones. So many of those ones, Kaz.
You're a much better class of asshole. Very capable. My favorite, even if you weren't coming to pick me up and keep me from getting hit by lightning walking home.
TY for moving!
This is one of those times where I foiled myself. Note to self, possibly steal abundance of musical lights strung up at the Slat.
Of course I'm coming. I know I said I wanted to see you in a mohawk but not via electrocution.
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@noreasonneeded
You really think they'd go for a piñata? What would we fill it with?
That means a lot, coming from you and knowing what you know.
TY for moving!
I do know a lot. No fact is useless to learn and all that.
yw!
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@noreasonneeded
Don't even get me started! I remember when gas was $.30 a gallon. Do you think cats appreciate that? I don't think they do, because they don't understand fossil fuels.
Are you surprised?
Well I can't take your mattress, that's just too cruel. And I didn't know, but that makes sense. Figure you didn't have much chance for it.
TY again!
No. You're very good at things like that.
Yeah, I knew what they were obviously, but never sat on one. I wonder if the cat will take it as an invitation to pop it.
yw again!
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@halfcadence
Secret fourth option: it's a rich plaintiff there to sue some poor sucker. Which courthouse are you at? I wanna see if this is a rare case of the rich eating themselves.
@noreasonneeded x1
They WOULD both be right, but in this instance it's definitely the ones with feathers and beaks. They're so into watching him flail around they haven't even gone after my ribbons.
no subject
@noreasonneeded x2
The point isn't for the smell to go with the burnt garbage so much as cover it up enough everyone's nostrils can forget what happened.
TY