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taxonomites2013-04-07 03:13 am
skinandbone) wrote in taxonomites2013-04-07 03:13 am
Entry tags:
[Location: The Market] Stalling out
This is completely terrifying.
Somewhere at the outskirt of the Market, Metody has rented a stall with the last of her money and some very fast talking. She sits at the front of it, giving the world a tense, edgy smile.
She is not wearing her environmental suit, and that is completely terrifying. Appearances matter and no one looks friendly in a black space suit, and so it is stashed under the tablecloth. In it's place, Metody is wearing her impression of business dress: Electric pink jeans, a green blouse, a blue net scarf and a blazingly purple jacket. She's done something complicated with a pink ribbon to one arm, and there's a band of carved ivory flowers holding back her hair, and okay, it's maybe not the most staid of outfits, but the jacket means it's professional, right? And so does the scarf.
Her wares are displayed as attractively as she could manage: on one side, delicate carvings of bone - little boxes with geometrical or botanical themes, long strands of interlocking beads, flowers with petals so thin that light shines through them, intricate ivory hair ornaments. On the other side is meat of the operation, ha ha: purplish venison steaks and what looks at first glance to be chicken thighs and cutlets, but is actually rabbit. She's even got a(n ivory) plate of samples with frilly toothpicks sticking out of them, and neatly hand printed recipe cards.
There is paper and string to package up the meat, and little boxes for the jewelry and carvings, and if no one buys anything, she is facing a long walk home followed by another meal of yet more freaking venison and rabbit.
She might just try eating grass and rocks instead. Or she'll try staring at the crowd and willing them into purchasing.
C'mon. C'mooooooooon.
Somewhere at the outskirt of the Market, Metody has rented a stall with the last of her money and some very fast talking. She sits at the front of it, giving the world a tense, edgy smile.
She is not wearing her environmental suit, and that is completely terrifying. Appearances matter and no one looks friendly in a black space suit, and so it is stashed under the tablecloth. In it's place, Metody is wearing her impression of business dress: Electric pink jeans, a green blouse, a blue net scarf and a blazingly purple jacket. She's done something complicated with a pink ribbon to one arm, and there's a band of carved ivory flowers holding back her hair, and okay, it's maybe not the most staid of outfits, but the jacket means it's professional, right? And so does the scarf.
Her wares are displayed as attractively as she could manage: on one side, delicate carvings of bone - little boxes with geometrical or botanical themes, long strands of interlocking beads, flowers with petals so thin that light shines through them, intricate ivory hair ornaments. On the other side is meat of the operation, ha ha: purplish venison steaks and what looks at first glance to be chicken thighs and cutlets, but is actually rabbit. She's even got a(n ivory) plate of samples with frilly toothpicks sticking out of them, and neatly hand printed recipe cards.
There is paper and string to package up the meat, and little boxes for the jewelry and carvings, and if no one buys anything, she is facing a long walk home followed by another meal of yet more freaking venison and rabbit.
She might just try eating grass and rocks instead. Or she'll try staring at the crowd and willing them into purchasing.
C'mon. C'mooooooooon.
no subject
He skritches at his belly then leans forward to look at the things that are still on display. "The beads are sweeeeet. But I still want a bong. Or maybe a guitar pick! I wonder if it'd break."
no subject
"But there's no spirits here. Like - none."
Unless Horst and William count. What an odd and unexpected thought - but maybe that's why they look dead. Because they're not alive, because they're spirits, and spirits have a different kind of life than people.
Man.No one ever talked about how they found out how to pacify spirits. They just said what to do.
"Maybe? I think it'd chip, at the very least."
no subject
Jeremy picks up a hairclip from the table while he talks, turning it over in his hands and playfully sticking it into his hair.
"What is this, like.... balsa wood or something? --alder. Alder's the white wood. I think? Or is it birch?"
no subject
And then, anxiously, "I mean, I've still got my alter set up, even if it isn't entirely accurate, and I've got my stones and string and - maybe all that's keeping them away? And I just haven't noticed them? Maybe?"
"Oh, no, it's deer bone."
no subject
"...okay, well... so what happens if someone doesn't do the altar thing? Cuz, like, I haven't. So... if they were here, wouldn't they be-- uh, well, doing whatever is your spirits do to people?" he says at last, trying to go for semi-comforting semi-logic, or something.
"--did you say deer bone."
no subject
"Yeah. It's all deer."
no subject
"Dude. Dude. You are.... you are officially the most metal person I have personally known," Jeremy informs Metody in earnest tones. "You own fucking body armor and appease the spirits and you make shit out of bones. You've displaced Flamingo Eddie, and he eats fire."
no subject
She trails off, blinking at him.
" - sorry, he eats what? Why? That's not how I appease spirits. Um. Do you want me to make you a little ward for your home, maybe, just in case...?"
no subject
"....uh, I dunno about a 'ward'. I mean-- technically-- I'm Jewish."