Closed RP Drive 'em Crazy

This RP is currently closed.
illirica

illirica

Failed Sanity Check
Staff member





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Contrary to the beliefs of some, Auraliese did not actually spend all of her time at her auto garage. Okay, yes, it was true that she worked there for both her actual job and her side job - and fine, she also lived in the apartment above the place, but sometimes she went other places. If nothing else, she had to go to the grocery store occasionally - although she supposed she wouldn't have to, if she just got everything delivered, but that seemed like cheating somehow. Also, it was expensive, which meant her dad would have paid for it, but she didn't want him to pay for it, so she got her own groceries.

Mostly, though, if she left the building, she didn't want to be in other buildings. Her mom had taken her on dozens of camping and backpacking trips when she'd still been at home - before she'd gone off to commune with nature and all - and Auraliese had kept it up, maybe more out of habit than anything else. It was something to do, anyway. Pittsburgh wasn't exactly known for its hiking, but there were a few parks with walking paths where she could at least meander around for a while.

This particular one had a lake. Sometimes there were turtles. She hadn't seen any yet today, but maybe she would - possibly. Potentially. If some person would stop throwing rocks in the water.

Oh, hey, I think I know them.

That was Mari's Spork, right? Tall, lanky, sitting on a bench with a cane next to them and throwing rocks in the water and occasionally at pigeons that came to investigate, and then pretending they just hadn't seen the pigeons there?

Yeah, that was Spork.

Auraliese came up behind the bench, not because she thought she had any chance of sneaking up on them - she just didn't want to be in the line of fire.

"I'll give you five bucks if you take one of those pigeons back home to Mari and ask her to cook it for dinner."

 

Feeding birds ranks first on the list of old lady pastimes, Spork is pretty sure. They don’t really get the hype, but they thought they’d try it out.

“Feast, little birdies,” they mumble, scattering a handful of pebbles. Yeah, so it turns out that bread is Not Good for birds. Spork didn’t bother looking up an alternative, because city birds are probably already good and fat, so they’re spicing up the bird food economy. The dumb things just keep coming back to peck at pebbles they literally scooped from two feet away.

Bigger pebbles go in the pond, because they make a cool sound. Skipping stones is for posers and people with eyes, plopping them in is where it’s at. Spork is a generous apex predator, providing enrichment for birds and fish alike.

They assume there are fish in the pond, anyways. What else would a pond be for?

The clatter of displaced pebbles behind them catches their attention, and Spork grins when they recognize the voice encouraging their delinquent behavior. “Think she’d do it?”

Catching one of the little buggers might be tricky, but that’s a whole five bucks on the line. Plus the opportunity to bug Mari, which is Spork’s favorite reward.

“Take a seat. Birds won’t bite if you’re looming.” They scoot a little towards the side of the bench, lessening their manspreading so that there’s room for two people instead of just one Spork. “What brings you out here, Aura Bora?”

 





"I don't think so, but maybe you could convince her to build a rotisserie pigeon-oven." Auraliese shrugged, then remembered Spork wasn't going to see the gesture anyway, but there really wasn't anything to be done about that. She moved forward, sitting down in the space that had been made for her.

"Pigeon's not bad. Dunno about city pigeon, though. Still probably better than possum." Some people went camping when they were kids. Auraliese's mom took her Camping. It was a whole thing - one of those "we're going for a month and you can only bring what you can carry" situations. To be fair, Auraliese had enjoyed it at the time. Not the possums, though, those were horrid.

"And I just came out to get some exercise, I've been stuck under cars doing oil changes all morning and if I didn't get out, I was possibly going to scream." Oil changes were boring, but... well, you did them anyway, and then maybe when people needed something else done, they'd bring their car back.

Still, if she had to do another one today, there was going to be screaming. "What about you, was terrorizing the local fauna your primary goal, or is that just a bonus?"

 

“Guess I should cancel that order of possum steak for your next birthday, then.” Spork props their elbow on the armrest and their cheek on their fist, aiming their smile in Aura’s direction. It’s less vicious than most of the smiles they give the general public, would resemble something almost fond on anyone else. “I didn’t think cars were all that particular about screaming, but I guess you’re the expert there.”

“As for me, I’ve been doing my civic duty as a community elder and feeding the pigeons. Those poor, poor city pigeons. They would waste away without me,” they deadpan, leaning down to rake another handful of gravel. They show it to her, some smaller pebbles spilling over their palm and onto the bench when they open their hand. “Look at me, spending all of my money on home-grown, premium quality, no-GMO pigeon chow. A heavy cost, but it’s the only thing they’ll eat.”

They scatter the handful in a wide arc around the bench, and sure enough some curious pigeons come to peck at the stones. Those that don’t get pinged by the ricochets, anyways. Spork waves their hand and raises their eyebrows in a ‘see?’ kind of way. “No terror to be found here, only scrumptious morsels for those sweet flying rats.”

 





"You don't even know when my birthday is." Actually, did they know when Auraliese's birthday was? Mari did, so it wasn't completely impossible for Spork to have bullied her into telling - although Auraliese had no idea why they would do that.

She let a little hint of a laugh escape at the thought, but bit down on it before it could go any further. No... she wasn't going to ask. Maybe she didn't want to know, or maybe she just wanted to pretend she didn't want to know. Instead, she sat back and watched Spork throw rocks to or at the pigeons, which really were the stupidest creatures on earth.

Spork probably could bop one on the head and take it back to Mari. The problem with that scenario was that then there'd be a pigeon, and why would anyone really want one? Just because Auraliese had eaten them before didn't mean that she preferred them to, say, Thai. She wondered if Spork liked Thai.

She wondered if Spork liked pigeon - or would like one, if they tried it. And they would definitely try it. Mari had told her enough about them to know that for sure. It was weird, she felt like she knew quite a lot about them and yet at the same time, nothing.

Maybe Spork felt the same about her, but then again, Spork also seemed to feel like Auraliese and Mari were dating. Which they weren't. Which - Mari was cute and all, but Auraliese didn't think she was interested. Ah, well.

She sat back, and watched a pigeon try to eat a rock.

"Hey, Spork, are you see- -dating anyone?"

 

Spork gives a one-shouldered shrug, not too bothered with the insinuation they don’t know when her birthday is. They might not know it off the top of their head, but they do know that Mari loves her calendars. The information is out there somewhere, and they’ll find it if they need it.

They make a mental note to ask Mari for a new mod for Miku - something that can scan words, or something. She’d probably agree, if only to get them to bother her less. (As if that’ll ever happen.)

Wrapped up in thoughts of upgrades, they’re a little caught off guard by her question when it breaks the comfortable silence. “Whuh?”

It takes a moment to process, and then they’re grinning, laughing a little into their hand. Mari isn’t here to tease, but hey, why not? “Why Aura, I thought you were in a committed science-nerd-ship. Did Mari not tell you what happens to girls who break her heart?”

Their mind works while their mouth flaps. On the one hand, Mari did tell them to stop dating her friends. Several times. Okay, every time it happened. As though it was their fault they’re so irresistible. On the other, they’re really curious where this is going.

“Nah, kidding. I’m all on my lonesome out here.” They wipe pebble-grit onto their jean shorts and lounge on their half of the bench, face turned towards Aura to show that she has their attention. “Why?”

 





Hadn't expected that one, had they? Spork looked about like the pigeon that had been hit with a rock for a moment, floundering and wondering where that had come from, then turning around to peck at it and see if it was... edible?

That metaphor had definitely gone on too far. "Oh, Mari." This was said in the same tone Auraliese usually used for particularly stubborn lug nuts. Not that Auraliese didn't appreciate what they did, but at the same time they were pretty exasperating, at times. "Mari is either uninterested or completely oblivious, and I don't want to push the issue too hard in case it's the first one and she's trying to be polite about it. We're friends, you know? We work well together. And maybe she doesn't want to screw that up."

Plenty of people like that, after all, Auraliese supposed - especially if their preferences tended towards the super-strict variety. If you knocked all your friends out of the dating pool, you ended up with a dating puddle.

She was really going to have to swear off of metaphors.

"So, are you similarly uninterested or completely oblivious, or do you wanna go get Thai sometime?"
 

“Aww, Aura-Dorable, are we not friends?” Spork presses a hand to their heart as though wounded, because they enjoy being a little shit. As though they’ve ever had a problem with dating their friends. Or Mari’s friends.

And, yeah, Mari could be like that sometimes. Too focused on her projects to think about the people around her. Sometimes she even forgets about Spork, which is just rude. But they’re pretty sure they would’ve heard about it if she had some kind of legitimate nerd-crush, at least in the form of “dear God Spork can you stop teasing me about it.” Maybe. Probably.

So, in the absence of prior dibs, Spork is totally in the clear here. They shift to sit a little straighter, twitching their cane off the armrest and into their hands. “I’d love to get Thai. Or should I catch that pigeon first, so we have a snack on the way?”

 





What, now?

Actually, Auraliese should have expected that. Spork... Spork seemed like a very right now sort of person. She considered what she wanted to do with it, and then decided that, actually, maybe that was fine. She could sort of go for some Thai. Not for some pigeon, though... but she kind of wanted to see if Spork could actually catch one, because -

- No, actually, she didn't have a good reason for that, but she designed supertech as a hobby, so she supposed she didn't really need a good reason.

"I mean, if I ate half a pigeon, I wouldn't have enough room for Thai, but if you wanna go ahead, I'm not going to stop you. And I will be watching. With intrigue and horror. There will be no comments on the ratio of those two."

Because it was definitely going to be more in the intrigue category, and Auraliese was going to feel bad about that, somehow.

Okay, fine, they were getting Thai. Cool. That was... cool, right? Sure. She was totally prepared for a date and definitely didn't have used engine oil in her hair or anything. Probably. Maybe.

Well, it wasn't like Spork was going to see it.

Could they smell it, though? Should she have taken a shower just in case she happened to meet someone when she was out on her own and - was she overthinking? Yes. Definitely. Standard before-date procedure, really.

And speaking of procedures: "Hey, and full disclosure, exclusive is a separate conversation, 'kay? And we aren't there yet. Also, that thing you do with my name?" Pause. No, might as well just go for it. "Don't. I will put up with that from my friend's idiot roommate. Not from someone I'm going on a date with. Auraliese. It's..." Cool it a bit. They don't know. "...It's important, all right? Important to me, I mean."

 

Intrigue and horror, huh? They can work with that. Spork tilts their head to the side, considering the pigeon sounds they can hear around them. Most of the little buggers have given up on their rocks and are moseying about, but they bet they can catch one if it wanders close enough.

While they’re waiting for their trap to spring, though, Aura - Auraliese - starts laying out terms and conditions. They hold up both hands in defense. “Woah, you’re taking getting Thai food way too seriously.”

They pause for a moment, mouth working, rolling their words around like marbles on their tongue. Eventually: “Yeah, I get it. You think my parents named me Spork?” There’s a flash of something there, some old grievance that crosses their expression and leaves just as quickly. “Keep your strings unknotted, Auraliese. Let’s just get some grub. I like to save the promise rings till at least the second date.”

There’s a weird vibe in the air, now. Spork rolls their shoulders, hands fluttering around the handle of their cane. Then, there’s a red and white blur as they crash it down to one side of a pigeon who had foolishly wandered under the bench. The pigeon warbles and flutters its wings, and Spork falls purposefully off the bench, their knees in the gravel as they shoot their hands out to grab it.

 





"Yeah, yeah. Overthinking it, I know. Or maybe I'm just really serious about Thai food or something."

She stood up, getting out of the blast zone while Spork reached for their cane and gave it a solid thwack in the direction of one of the pigeons. Auraliese was pretty sure that those canes weren't meant to be used like that, and kind of wondered how many of them Spork went through in a year. Or a week. Or an hour.

She leaned over to watch the attempted capture, wondering who was going to come out victorious. Well... not Spork, because there wasn't really a way to win this one, was there? Either they failed to catch a pigeon, or they succeeded in catching a pigeon, which was also a sort of failure - especially if they actually wanted to eat it.

"So, why do you go by 'Spork', anyway? Mari's never said."

 

Gravel bites into their knees and shins, but Spork’s hands close around something decidedly feathery. It’s an awkward grip, and the pigeon starts squirming immediately, but they caught it! Tucking it close to their chest like a football, they try to get it more situated without getting bird-rabies. Do pigeons have rabies? They probably should’ve asked that before they got all up and personal with this sky-rat, but oh well.

Their glasses are slipping down their nose as they get to their feet, and they make a brief attempt to push them up with their shoulder before giving up. Not like they’re prescription, just tinted so that people ask them less questions. “Ehehe, she didn’t tell you?”

They make a show of turning their face from side to side, as though scanning for eavesdroppers, then leaning in conspiratorially. The pigeon currently trying to peck them through their overshirt ruins their presentation, but it’s about the spirit of the thing. “Well, if you really want to know…”

The timing is key, as well as the delivery. They allow a moment’s pause, as though about to unveil a terrible secret, then continue, their voice still low and serious, “I killed someone with a spork, right through the eye. Middle school, you know?”

They keep their face carefully blank, but their head tilts slightly to better gauge her reaction.

 




Heck.

They actually caught it.

Auraliese watched in something between befuddlement and awe, rather impressed by the ability if not by the end result - the end result being Spork having a pigeon tucked under their arm, trying its very best to destroy Spork's shirt, and possibly also Spork. Or maybe the shirt was just incidental, and the little murderbird was hell-bent on destruction.

That was more likely, actually. Pigeons were assholes. Not as bad as seagulls, but they were at least up there on the tierlist.

Spork unveiled their history, which was either a complete fabrication delivered in a tone so as to seem like the truth, or the absolute truth, delivered in a tone meant to seem like a complete fabrication delivered in a tone so as to seem like the truth. Auraliese felt if she tried to figure that one out, she'd be digging for a while.

Instead, she just responded in the same deadpan tone as anyone who had been there: "Ah. Middle school."

Middle school was a horror unimaginable to even the worst of minds, and Auraliese certainly remembered having considered the idea of stabbing someone with a utensil at multiple times during those years. The first year of high school had been much better - and then her parents had moved, and sophomore year had been worse than even a full shrink-wrapped baggie of plastic cutlery complete with the useless self-shredding napkin could manage.

"You are going to wash your hands before you eat anything, right?"
 

Spork can’t keep their grin contained, and it gives them away near-instantly. “Lawless lands,” they chuckle, trying again to push up their glasses and marginally succeeding, but also definitely failing in the form of bringing the pigeon up high enough to peck them right in the boob.

“Ouch!” They let go of the bird. The bird, being free, makes a whole deal of fluttering its wings in Spork’s general direction before presumably flitting off to parts unknown. Spork isn’t going to waste the effort of trying to track the flying menace solely by ear. They are quite occupied with poking at the spot the bird pecked -- not too grievous a wound, they don’t think, just a surprising one.

“So much for road snacks,” they muse, not sounding too disappointed on that front. “It probably had all the diseases, anyways. Hm. Yeah. Do you have hand sanitizer?”

Spork 0, Pigeon 1. Better luck next time. But now their hands are pigeon-y, and they don’t want to put them in their pockets because they can’t tell if they’re imagining the pigeon residue. Because they picked up a rat bird. Not their best moment.

 





"Why do people just assume I have hand sanitizer?" She did, but why did people assume it? "Besides, you want isopropyl." She had that, too, in a little bottle in one of her backpack pouches, which she got out and handed over. "Better for grease, residue, and particulates. Sanitizer just kills germs. Then you have germ free pigeon poop, or whatever else you've touched. I'd offer you a rag but I think we both know you're just going to use your shirt. Do you want some antibiotic and a bandaid? Because yes, I have that too."

It wasn't really necessary for walking around the park, but if you actually wanted to keep in shape for proper hiking, you had to bring your gear with you so you stayed used to hauling it around, otherwise you ended up whining about how heavy your bag was now that it actually had all the things in it. Or maybe not - Auraliese worked on cars, after all, and that required at least some physical strength, but she wasn't about to test whether it was all the same muscles. She'd much rather be the person mocking the whiners than be one of them.

"Also, just for the record, I am going to be telling Mari you got your butt kicked by a pigeon. We both know that, right?"

 

“You have big hand sanitizer energy,” is Spork’s automatic response, because she does. They take the not-hand-sanitizer that she hands them without complaint, trailing their fingers along the bottle to find the little pop cap. It flips open easily, and it’s only at that point, feeling the liquid inside slosh around much more easily than they expect, that they stop to think about what they’re doing.

Do they just pour it on their hands? They give the bottle an experimental sniff. It smells like disinfectant, which doesn’t tell them anything.

…

They squirt some onto their hand. Like, a little bit. It runs right off, but they rub their fingers into their palm like it’s doing something. Yes. Clean. They repeat the process with their other hand and cap the bottle. Now their hands are slightly wet, and the scratches on their knuckles are stinging like a bitch. They take that to mean they’ve done an alright job. They wipe their palms (and the bottle) on their overshirt and call it good.

“What, is it bleeding? Am I gonna have a cool pigeon battle scar?” They ask, because really, band-aids are for blood. Everyone knows that. “The pigeon did not kick my butt, the little bastard got in a lucky hit. I totally coulda stomped him, I just thought I’d save us the clean-up.”

They offer Auraliese the bottle of isopropyl alcohol back without making a shots joke, because they’re an adult.

 





"It's not too bad," Auraliese assured them. "I can take a look if you want. I'd probably put antibiotic on it anyway just because pigeons are gross." Of course, maybe this wasn't exactly the place to be taking a look, given where they'd gotten pecked and the fact that it was a public park and all. Spork was probably a criminal, but they didn't seem like the indecent exposure sort of criminal.

Or maybe they did? Maybe they'd think it was funny. Auraliese didn't actually know. Really, she didn't know all that much about Spork at all, other than what Mari had told her, which was - well, admittedly a lot, but it wasn't exactly the same, somehow.

"So how come you were out there anyway? Is this a regular thing for you?"

 

Pigeons are gross. Spork makes a face of agreement, fussing with their layers for a moment. They’re lucky that the pigeon pecked the top of their boob and not the underside, because that would be a lot trickier to get to and a whole lot more awkward. Like, she’s cute, but not ‘strip poker in the woods’ cute. Once was enough for them.

As it is, they can just sort of throw one side of their overshirt over their shoulder and tug the neck of their tank-top a little lower and voila. The ouchie is visible; a little torn skin that’s reddened but not actively bleeding, maybe the size of their pinky nail.

“Go ham,” they say, granting full permission for Auraliese to poke at their boo-boo(b). There’s another joke there, but they’re distracted by her question.

“I wouldn’t call it regular. It’s just that sometimes I’m possessed by the spirit of a little old lady and feel inspired to feed pigeons and shit like that.” They shrug, one hand tapping an irregular beat on their waist. They really are an awful patient, with all their fidgeting and shuffling of feet. Mari’s told them so more than once. “This is the first free bench I came across. The bench economy is in shambles, I tell ya.”

The first bench that was far enough down the trail that they didn’t have to deal with people, anyways. Just pigeons, the occasional hiker, and ambient water sounds. It was a nice place to zone out for a little while, free from the threat of Mari roping them into helping her test the limits of science.

But it’s way more interesting now that Auraliese is here, of course. They think they’ve maxed out their 'appreciate nature' meter for the day. “Anyways, Thai? Or should I wrestle a squirrel next?”

 





"Why is it ham and not chicken?" Auraliese had always wondered about that. "Like, at what point did ham become the default meat for an acceptable level of going overboard? Is it because it's fancy enough to be served at holidays rather than everydays, but still not to the point of being considered hoity-toity like lamb chops or something? Or is it some other reason entirely? There's bring home the bacon, too, so is pork just universally accepted as the best meat for metaphors? You're done, by the way." It had taken a lot less time to dab on the antibiotic than to go through that entire digression.

Fortunately, Spork also seemed to be prone to going off on tangents, which in this case seemed to be bench related. Auraliese hadn't really spent much time thinking about the pressing issue of benches, probably because she didn't like sitting down for more than about three minutes at a time. But hey, if it worked for Spork, good for them, right? The next question was, somehow, comparatively normal, which just said a whole lot about the conversation they'd been having, didn't it?

"Ooh. Tough call. I mean, it'd be really funny to watch you get your butt kicked by a squirrel, but, you know, maybe we'll just go for the Thai. If you want to see if you can bean one for dessert, though, I can absolutely stand by and laugh at you."

 
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