Let Your Whole Body Talk

[MK Kilmarnock]

This spot looked good!

((Ruth Flanagan, poofing into existence in a puff of brimstone))

Ruth walked through the park at a pace slower than she normally liked. Her legs were antsy... she wanted to run, or pick up the pace at least a little bit, swing her arms, anything. Comfort, she constantly reminded herself, had to come first. Not her own, but that of her precious cargo. Today, in lieu of her usual purse, Ruth had in her left hand an oversized mesh 'handbag' with lots of ventilation and a good view, ideal for the black silkie hen sitting inside. The rest of the girl's belongings were relegated to a small knapsack shaped like an owl that she wore nestled between her shoulder blades.

The spot in question was beneath a large willow tree set just a bit further from the path that cut through the park, with a grassy knoll cutting into the view of the ocean that would serve as a lovely backdrop for a photoshoot. Ruth had picked her most photogenic girl, and the one best-trained for the carrier. Miss Fame, ever the diva, clucked her annoyance as Ruth set the bag down on the grass.

"I know, I know, not gonna work for free," Ruth talked to the bird in a soft sing-song. "Give me a second, girl. I'm getting your snacks." She puffed out her chest and wiggled her shoulders in an odd, graceless dance until the backpack slid off and down her arms, hitting the grass with a thud. Miss Fame's treat some was cracked corn Ruth had put into a small metal canister, to be sprinkled out on the ground in small amounts to keep her interested. She took out a camera next, just a small digital camera to snap some good shots. Photography wasn't her forte - painting was, but good luck ever getting a chicken to stand still long enough to paint a good portrait of her. The game plan, then, was to take some good snaps to use as visual inspiration.

She opened the canister; Miss Fame immediately clucked in earnest, knowing what was inside. Chickens were a lot smarter than people gave them credit for, Ruth thought. They could be, at least, with enough love and attention. And motivation. That last part could be tricky and you couldn't overdo it either, or else they might get lazy. Just a few fingertips pinching the kernels, that's all Ruth needed, and she sprinkled that onto the ground. Then she unzipped the top of the carrier and brought it down on a hinge, letting her prized silkie walk out on her own.

"Theeeere we go, get the corn, and look fabulous doing it!" Ruth said, her voice gradually lowering to a mutter. She got out her camera and eased herself to a prone position on the ground, elbows propping up her shoulders, and with her feet towards the asphalt path.

[Yonagoda]

Is that... Is that a girl feeding a chicken?

Erika rubbed her eyes a little. Maybe she shouldn't have taken a walk right after she woke up?

She's heard about this debate a million times, about the line between food and pets and whatever, but still... It felt like the stuff PETA would pull? They would, like, put chickens in cute little sweaters and collars and walk them around. Like performance art. Which, speaking of art, for some reason it reminded her of the Bird Spill (which she unofficially named)

[+] like this

That was one of the works that she didn't see the point of, but she appreciated the aesthetics if not anything. Well, it could be symbolic of animal consumption, in more ways than one. Or it could be a boring old piece of art meant to be pretty and she shouldn't look too deep in it. But she always looked too deep into it. Her work was about aesthetics, about look- there wasn't a political message as much as there was a question about what is considered beautiful and what not.

The chicken's feathers weren't anything like the oil-spill slick of Kate MccGwire's work, but it didn't look like a regular food chicken.

Alright, maybe she was thinking about art too much, but... that one piece was stuck in her head for about a week now, and as weird as it was, she just thought of it at the most random times. Even when she didn't want to, like there was a need for her to look at it over and over again. It was exhausting. It was exhilarating. She has three hundred screenshots of her work on her phone and she couldn't bare to delete any of them and she hated herself for that. Even when she knew she would snap out of the fixation in a week. The more Erika looked at it, the more interesting it became. Just like the girl next to it, snapping up a photo of the little bird pecking at the corn, smile framed by dyed curls.

Yikes, she really looked like a freak, right? Here was a girl just feeding her chicken, and Erika was thinking about feather art and her own mental issues and whatever.

(Self awareness trickled through her veins, hot and burning.)

But those are the only two things that defined her. She loved art and she hated her own mind. That was who she is, that was who she was defined by, that was what she wanted to be written on her gravestone, and the scene in front of her was art because everything was art because that's how Erika saw things. She contextualizes them and she turns them into something she could understand, and what she could understand was art.

When Ruth took a photo of her chicken, Erika, from behind, took a photo of Ruth taking a photo. Just for her own collection, nothing invasive (she hoped) or with the intention of being published, sold, or otherwise commodified.

[MK Kilmarnock]

Footsteps weren't completely unexpected. There was a footpath through a park right to Ruth's backside, and while the pedestrian traffic today wasn't super heavy she expected people to be walking behind her. That said, it was one thing to expect it, and another thing entirely to hear it. So when the sounds of somebody encroaching and then apparently stopping behind her reached her ears, Ruth turned her head to try and look over her shoulder.

A little startled at seeing somebody in her peripheral pointing something at her without even saying hello, Ruth dropped her camera and scrambled forward. Miss Fame gave out a confused and discontented cluck when Ruth scooped her up in her hands, twisting and carefully sitting herself up. "Shh, sh... I got you..." She couldn't chance her pet running off while she was talking to somebody. Taking a chicken out to town like this was a big enough risk, and if anything happened, Ruth would never forgive herself.

"Hey, uh, do ya mind?"

[Yonagoda]

turn around press home swipe left swipe left again click right corner double click and-

"Um," Erika asked, Slime Farmer Idle Clicker loading on her phone screen, "I don't know what you're talking about?"

[MK Kilmarnock]

Ruth tucked her legs underneath herself and sat cross-legged, looking up at Erika while she patted the silkie hen who was trying to crawl out of her lap. She was pretty sure the blonde girl was taking a picture of her on her phone, but she couldn't prove it without snatching it out of her hands and going through the photos. Considering that was something only psychos did (excepting when she did it to her brothers), her hands were tied.

Annoyed and feeling lied to, Ruth carefully got to her feet with her precious cargo tucked in her arms. She still had to look up at Erika, with nearly a foot of height difference. That did little to deter Ruth. She had to look up at most people over the age of 12. "I guess I'm talking about nothing. Have you come to see the fashion show?"

[Yonagoda]

Fashion. Um. Well.

"What show?"

She yearned the feeling of soft feathers underneath her hands again. It's been almost a year since she really took apart her last bird, cooking aside.

"Can I pet, uh... it? her?"

[MK Kilmarnock]

"The show," Ruth responded somewhat unhelpfully. "I thought that's why you were over here. Miss Fame and I..." she held up her bird as she addressed her. The silkie hen turned her head to the side and clucked, looking directly up at Erika as
she inspected the new person. "... Are doing a photoshoot. I'm hoping to get some inspiration for artwork." Ruth hush-talked to the chicken to keep her content while she mulled over Erika's question.

"You can. You'll have to come down here though," Ruth insisted stubbornly. "She likes being pet on the underside of her chin. Neck. Whatever."

[Yonagoda]

"Ah."

She's never pet a bird before. Not an alive one, anyways- birds always weirded her out. A lot of animals did. It was just the beady little eyes, maybe. The lack of control she had over them. But of course, she still said she loved animals when prompted- not that it's a lie, but...

"Aren't you just the cutest bird in town? Aww, you sweet little thing..."

They sure are easier to figure out than people. Animals are simple creatures, at least. Yet beautiful in their simplicity.

Still, the word art kind of felt like a kick in the face. Pavlovian response that she trained into herself, because she hinged her entire identity on a hobby and now she's paying for it, maybe. And also, what the hell are chicken photoshoots.

"Well, good luck with the shoot. What's it for?"

[MK Kilmarnock]

"I told you," Ruth said somewhat petulantly. She gave the fancy-looking chicken in her arms some more gentle scritches, and reminded herself she needed to keep her voice down. Chickens, like many animals, particularly prey animals, were not the biggest fans of loud noises. "It's for artwork." Erika had also said that Miss Fame was cute, so she was right on the money about one thing. Only acknowledging the question felt like maybe she was focusing too much on the negative. And even then, thinking about the question...

"Um... unless like, you were asking what the ARTWORK was for," she said, a little sheepishly this time. "In which case, if I get any good photos, I'll paint 'em and put them in like, exhibits at the fair."

[Yonagoda]

"No, no I mean, like- is it for a show? Or just a personal thing? There are shows, for, um, chickens, right?"

Of course there are. Erika has seen 'em. But sometimes, it's just... like, sometimes even though she knew something 100%, she still was unsure. Like she knew, but her brain refuses to be confident. Some sort of internal gaslighting.

"She seems like one of these kinds of chickens. Like, as a compliment, because she's very pretty, um, for a chicken, so..."

Instead of saying anything else, she decided to just coo at the chicken with little baby noises. Which was dumb, because chickens clearly don't understand, but...

[MK Kilmarnock]

Ooooooh okay. Ruth had some explaining to do.

"There are, yeah, there are shows for chickens at like, the fair and stuff," Ruth started to explain. "Though this doesn't have anything to do with that, um." She gave a shake of her head, satisfied with her hair falling out of her face. She tucked some strands behind her left ear just to make sure and then shuffled forward on her knees, holding her bird who gave some soft clucking at the disturbance.

"THIS," Ruth announced, "is Miss Fame. She's my prettiest lady in the coop, and she's done shows at the fair. Always gets a blue ribbon." She allowed Erika to admire Miss Fame, and smiled as it seemed the other girl was giving some effort and appreciation. "But the picture I'm painting is more for me. So like, I'm taking a photo of her? And then I'm painting the picture based on the photo. Might put it on my wall, might put it in an art show, I'm not like... sure, yet."

[Yonagoda]

Erika could go on a whole rant about the genre of paintings based off of photos and the development and meaning of the word creativity and...

and she's kind of feeling the mood for a coffee right now, so, like, she saved that essay for later on her blog.

"Miss fame... I think I've heard that name before."

The taller girl (and taller by a lot) knelt down and put her finger tentatively near Miss Fame's beak, before realizing that she's a chicken and not a dog or a cat and thus probably doesn't need to smell her. A flash of embarrassment showed through the expression of her face, although she managed to school it in the next second.

"You're always the prettiest hen in the show, aren't you?" Erika muttered under her breath, feeling the soft feathers underneath her skin when she stroked it with a single finger. It's so... terrifying? To be near animals sometimes. Even though she loves them, she always felt too big. Too strong. Too scary to these poor creatures, like any wrong move could easily cause extreme physical and mental trauma to the soft little creatures in her hands. Sometimes she pets a cat and she thinks about killing it. She needs to stop these intrusive thoughts, except the more she thinks about stopping them the more she's reminded of them, and the more she's reminded the more they pop up, and oh god, oh shit, oh fuck she's thinking these thoughts again, something a bit disturbingly graphic even in this omnivorous world they both live in. It was just a flash, a vision of the chicken she's petting being butchered and dissected and put into soup, but it made her feel so ashamed that she immediately got up, just a little too fast. Miss Fame, perhaps scared of her sudden movement, made her own move that Erika wasn't sure was a flinch or a poise to attack.

"She's got a lot of personality, doesn't she?"

Don't talk about art don't talk about art don't talk about art

Don't be such a fuckin weirdo.

[MK Kilmarnock]

"Uh-huh. You know, most people don't think chickens even HAVE personalities," Ruth said, rather pleased to see Erika fawning over her pet. Good. Everybody should. "But that's because they don't spend the time to get to know 'em. Then they'd see they were totally unique if they did, you know?" Ruth made some quiet shushing sounds to quell a trilling noise her bird had started to make, most likely in response to sudden movement.

"But yeah. She usually takes blue ribbon in her category when I show her. Between us three, it's not really fair because she's just so darn pretty, yes you are!" Ruth pet and gently placed a kiss on the back of Miss Fame's head, eliciting another cluck. "Probably time for a break though. Let's put you back in your trailer so you can settle down." She shuffled forward on her knees, grime and dirt scuffing the knees of her capris. She paid no mind to this, instead carefully depositing Miss Fame back in her mesh carrier and zipping it closed, making sure her water and food were in order.

"So like..." The only indication Ruth was now talking to Erika again and not Miss Fame was the inflection in her voice being less sweet and sing-songy; she was still devoting visual attention to her chicken to ensure she was safe and happy. "She's just going to chill in there for a bit. As long as she's in the shade with food and water, we're good." Ruth pushed up on her hands and stood. turning to Erika.

"I don't think I asked what you were doing here today."

[Yonagoda]

"Just, um, taking a walk."

She opened her phone and scrolled to her non-offensive photos to show to the girl, holding the photograph of the flowers with a firm hand, because, well, she had too many experiences with people just ripping her phone out of her hands and she'd always have to snatch it back before they came across something really weird.

"And taking some pictures for, like, art references, because I'm kind of trying to build my portfolio right now?"

(Please don't find my weird pics I don't want to explain the dead animals. I don't want you to look at me like a freak. I don't want you to see who I am.)

[MK Kilmarnock]

"Oh!" Ruth's face lit up and her voice raised in pitch with corresponding excitement. Since she was already standing, she walked around Erika to take a better look at her phone. Yes, Erika had selected a picture or two and then turned the device to show her, but Ruth was excited to see more of her work. So, she approached Erika at her side and, while unable to look over her shoulder due to the height difference, she was at least standing at an angle that allowed them both to see the screen at the same time.

"I didn't know you did that too. You said for art reference so like, you like draw and paint it and stuff?" Ruth asked. "Show me more. Do you just do landscapes?"