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the chickens coming home to roost
Aug. 16th, 2016 12:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecatinahatWHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: The Inn / The CJS Bungalow
WHEN: August 16th
OPEN TO: OTA / Jake
WARNINGS: mild injury, potential profanity
STATUS: Closed
Open
The strange boxes had been ignored at first, by Cougar. He doesn't trust them, not just because odd brown boxes with his name on them are usually more bomb than gift. The only things that make him consider looking inside is the fact that Jake had found one (that fateful day) and that there are strange sounds coming from inside the bigger of the boxes.
That had been days ago. The three little chicks are not old enough to yield eggs, but the larger one has been giving off three eggs a day. While he works on the coop (to tide away his tired mind, given that he's not sleeping because of...well, because he's an idiot). Soon enough, they have enough of a home that they're protected and Cougar feels victorious because he has something more than just the rabbits from the snares. It will allow them to ease off the need to hunt meat so regularly, which has been a growing concern.
"Buen trabajo, mi pequeña reina," he praises as he collects that days' eggs, bringing the bowl of them tucked under his arm as he heads to the inn, sitting between Jo's linen sheets posted up on the walls.
With great victory and feeling quite proud, Cougar adds 'EGGS FOR TRADE' in big script under the offering side, before setting back with the bowl. He still intends to hunt, yes, but now that these boxes seem to be arriving, he thinks there is a good opportunity to start stocking up his supplies, even if with only promises for the future.
Closed to Jake
It's been a very strange several days. He hasn't been sleeping more than cat naps (something he waits for a joke about that never comes), so his exhaustion is starting to get to him. He knows that's the only reason why he's so clumsy and when he's collecting wood to put together an enclosure for the chickens, he ends up nicking himself with one of the small, antique hand saws, going too far and cutting into his calf. He collects the eggs for the day and brings them into the kitchen, stoking the fires for the oven. While they build, he digs out the other strange little box he had received, wondering if they had come together for exactly this reason.
The thread between his teeth and the needle in hand, Cougar works on cleaning and patching himself up, a cloth filled with his blood on the table (just because the dog seems eager to eat it) and the oven just about ready to go. He's moving slowly, so tired, but the prospect of fresh eggs and an omelette is more than enough to keep him going. He levers himself out of the chair and heads to grasp one of the heavy pans, filling the pan with the eggs he's been collecting since the chickens arrived (the little ones will not lay for a while, but the older one has been providing a few a day). He knows that he needs to talk to Jake, if only because he can't sleep. There are other things that they have to discuss, because in a fit of a moment, he's said stupid things. He's done stupid things.
And Jake hasn't come back to give him the opportunity to fix it. He's walking a thin line between wanting to barge in and fix it and easing back to give Jake the kind of space he wants and needs.
"Stay," he commands the dog when the pup starts to lean up to try and stand up to try and get closer to the eggs when they finish frying and Cougar plates them up. He uses his good leg to nudge him away, glancing to the upstairs to see if the smell of the food will bring Jake down. While he waits, he settles back down to start cleaning up the now-stitched wound, knowing he needs to sleep at some point before he truly loses his mind.
WHERE: The Inn / The CJS Bungalow
WHEN: August 16th
OPEN TO: OTA / Jake
WARNINGS: mild injury, potential profanity
STATUS: Closed
Open
The strange boxes had been ignored at first, by Cougar. He doesn't trust them, not just because odd brown boxes with his name on them are usually more bomb than gift. The only things that make him consider looking inside is the fact that Jake had found one (that fateful day) and that there are strange sounds coming from inside the bigger of the boxes.
That had been days ago. The three little chicks are not old enough to yield eggs, but the larger one has been giving off three eggs a day. While he works on the coop (to tide away his tired mind, given that he's not sleeping because of...well, because he's an idiot). Soon enough, they have enough of a home that they're protected and Cougar feels victorious because he has something more than just the rabbits from the snares. It will allow them to ease off the need to hunt meat so regularly, which has been a growing concern.
"Buen trabajo, mi pequeña reina," he praises as he collects that days' eggs, bringing the bowl of them tucked under his arm as he heads to the inn, sitting between Jo's linen sheets posted up on the walls.
With great victory and feeling quite proud, Cougar adds 'EGGS FOR TRADE' in big script under the offering side, before setting back with the bowl. He still intends to hunt, yes, but now that these boxes seem to be arriving, he thinks there is a good opportunity to start stocking up his supplies, even if with only promises for the future.
Closed to Jake
It's been a very strange several days. He hasn't been sleeping more than cat naps (something he waits for a joke about that never comes), so his exhaustion is starting to get to him. He knows that's the only reason why he's so clumsy and when he's collecting wood to put together an enclosure for the chickens, he ends up nicking himself with one of the small, antique hand saws, going too far and cutting into his calf. He collects the eggs for the day and brings them into the kitchen, stoking the fires for the oven. While they build, he digs out the other strange little box he had received, wondering if they had come together for exactly this reason.
The thread between his teeth and the needle in hand, Cougar works on cleaning and patching himself up, a cloth filled with his blood on the table (just because the dog seems eager to eat it) and the oven just about ready to go. He's moving slowly, so tired, but the prospect of fresh eggs and an omelette is more than enough to keep him going. He levers himself out of the chair and heads to grasp one of the heavy pans, filling the pan with the eggs he's been collecting since the chickens arrived (the little ones will not lay for a while, but the older one has been providing a few a day). He knows that he needs to talk to Jake, if only because he can't sleep. There are other things that they have to discuss, because in a fit of a moment, he's said stupid things. He's done stupid things.
And Jake hasn't come back to give him the opportunity to fix it. He's walking a thin line between wanting to barge in and fix it and easing back to give Jake the kind of space he wants and needs.
"Stay," he commands the dog when the pup starts to lean up to try and stand up to try and get closer to the eggs when they finish frying and Cougar plates them up. He uses his good leg to nudge him away, glancing to the upstairs to see if the smell of the food will bring Jake down. While he waits, he settles back down to start cleaning up the now-stitched wound, knowing he needs to sleep at some point before he truly loses his mind.
