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were the closets playing pranks on anyone else yesterday?

[ faith's morning had started with a rather ... rural wake up call. she'd really hoped the little bastard would just disappear overnight. instead, he woke her up at the crack of dawn to a room full of feathers and pecked drywall.

eventually she'll have to just ... accept her new fowl-ler. into the diner for breakfast, where he's actually quite patient (and fond of toast). on to the gym for her morning workout, where apparently he needs a nap after all that strenuous crowing.

his cocky attitude returns in the library, where faith had planned hanging out for about an hour, learning about the supernatural elements of other worlds. she would've been better served looking up ways to keep him quiet, once it's clear he's going to continue hollering. amid glares and shushing, she scoops him up and tries apologizing over the noise before giving one particular patron the bird.

she practically books it out, rooster tucked under her arm. and as she makes her way, she doesn't notice the mess he leaves behind along the hallways. a trail of feathers and excrement leading to angel investigations, where the closet still refuses to cooperate and give her a cage. at least the cock is having fun with the pile of bic ballpoints beside her. ]

do leashes work on chickens?

[ by the end of the night, she's given up. the stupid thing even follows her to the bar where at least the corn nuts seem to satisfy him. she can nap at one of the tables, right...? ]

( ooc | feel free to catch her anywhere / make up somewhere else to find faith wrangling a mother clucking rooster as she goes about her day :3 )

Comments

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[radiopalkiller]

[ The Christmas piskie visitors turned out to come from a few species further to the left, after all, and Philip's got some additional notes to compile. Volumes on Jewish folklore litter his usual library workplace, and at their centre a large binder sits covered in handwritten notes, and empty pieces of paper yet to be filled.

He looks up at the fluttering sound, expecting to meet Nageki again. Instead the sight proves him wrong, and the ear-shattering holler even more so. A young woman follows the fowl suit, and Philip arches an eyebrow at her, lips forming a thin, judgmental line. ]

...Christ, please tell me that's just future lunch, and you're not from one of those worlds where people carry around their souls around as pets.

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[actualwizard]

...you have a chicken? Or is this a question that popped into your head from boredom.

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[rosswood]

[Right, so. Wonderland pretty much radiates weirdness on a day-to-day basis, and Alex likes to think that he's got a pretty good grasp of said weirdness. Like, he can walk into a room, and see some lady sleeping at a table with a chicken pecking at her hair, and shit like that is totally normal.

Totally.

Normal.

So he wouldn't have a problem with the chick passed out at the table if there wasn't a literal rooster raising a right ruckus, which has him so annoyed he's begun to mentally alliterate.

He doesn't have the patience for this shit, so he cuts right to the chase and thumps his foot against the leg of the table with a loud bang.]

Hey. Lady. This your poultry?

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[araneidal]

[ Natasha's in the gym when Faith and her unexpected tailgater show up. She eyes the cock with nothing that denotes surprise, only a sort of wry resignation. ]

Adopted you, has he?

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[thesamurai]

[It's in a random hallway on the way to a random place that Michonne sees Faith and a chicken, and she tilts her head to the side.]

So. That's a different kind of pet. Saving it for a rainy day and fried chicken, or you just really like roosters?

[She's curious; some people eat them, some people treat them like...part of the family. Or something. She guesses.]

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[agentxthirteen]

Did you become a poultry farmer when I wasn't looking?

[ Ha! Yep. Sharon's a card-carrying member of the Asshole Association. Or Assass, as they like to say. Ooooooh. ]

Check your closet for eggs. I want to know if the chicken came solo or if it came first.

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[krmvgivv]

[The most junior member of Angel Investigations is lying upside-down on the couch and reading some ancient-looking tome because the fact is, this is a pretty low intensity internship. Not much to actually do.... then he hears a squawk, looks up, and falls off the couch.]

What the heck?

[intelligently]

I'm more curious at why you're keeping it.

[beatupgrass]

aren't you just supposed to eat those things?

[what does he know of terran poultry.]

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[fatherlesskind]

[There are feathers and bird droppings in the hallway. It's weird enough and Alistair has enough free time on his hands that he follows the trail to its source, just down from his own room as it turns out. He's passed by the place before but hasn't really looked inside yet, so it's as good a time as any to stick his head inside and see what it is and if this is going to be happening a lot.

The droppings lead right to a chicken and its owner, sitting in the fancy suite like they both belong there. Which still manages to be weird even in a mansion filled with weirdness. He stands there studying them both for a moment, a smirk spreading across his face, before finally speaking up-]

...You know those things make terrible pets, right? It's left a mess all through the halls and there's not even enough feathers to stuff a pillow with.

[Yes he does think he's funny. But she's got a pet chicken and so has no room to judge anyone.]

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[accelero]

I thought they were always about that.

though maybe not in a chicken and leash way. need help with that?