I'm Alive!

There is something appealing about outdoor markets. Miriam is having a grand time, really, and has been over the moon for about an hour now. Going from stall to stall, she’s already gotten a small bundle of goodies- a rainbow of produce, and an appealing looking loaf of bread. She’s still restless though, with too much money and too much time. So, she seeks out company instead.

This person is a stranger, not that she cares. She approaches anyways, and waves a little before going in for a chat.

“okay, but consider the following–” he wastes no time launching into debate mode, straightening up with a little shake of his head to put some volume back into his bun. “consider. okay. those decorate plates that old people put in locked display cabinets so their grandkids can’t get their grubby hands on them. those, except we put food on them, so you’re picking away at your sweet potato wedges and then, surprise, it’s revered angel lovelace smiling up at you.”

cal settles his hands on her hips before she can escape back to the cart, a kiss pressed to her forehead. “they came down to the city and made a whole series of commemorative memorabilia for it. it was kind of fucked up, but people really love orthodox angel bullshit, so of course it sold well. if there’s a thrift store here they probably have something similar.”

a sigh, airy and nowhere near as dramatic as usual. “brass silverware works, though. bronzeware.” there’s a longing gaze cast back at the Spoons of Personal Judgment. no. resist, calid saint. resist the dark urge. do not heed their siren call. look back at your girlfriend, squeeze her butt a little–for grounding purposes, obviously. “what else do real people put in their real kitchens, anyway? do we own enough pans? do we need to get a wok for the sake of authenticity?”

She goes quiet, pensive even, listening in rapt attention to Cal’s ramblings. Every so often, she drums her fingers on his back, tracing the ridge of his shoulder blade and contemplating a whirlwind of things that she won’t even begin to voice right now. Eventually though, she gives his shoulder a squeeze, and decides to reply. 

“Hmmm. That’s almost too niche. Also I’m sensitive sometimes.” Miriam’s pout is just a bit exaggerated, but she straightens up and supports her own wait, offering a warm smile at the kiss to her forehead. This is nice, isn’t it? 

It’s nice, really, and she lifts her face to bask in the outside, in the presence of the world moving around her. To be fair though, it probably looks a little bit bizarre, to be standing like this with people moving around you, a rock in the current of people. 

Someone nearly clips her shoulder, and Miriam’s eyes fly open.

The festival games are only somewhat familiar to her. Miriam is able to make sense of some of them, given what she remembers as a small child. Others are reminiscent of the odd little games that the members of the compound would present to her when trying to be entertaining. So, standing in the middle of it all, alone and unsure, kind of sucks. So, Miriam goes for what feels better, and sidles up next to someone who looks about as familiar as she does.

She’s back at the markets again. Chasing interesting things from stall to stall, there’s been a bag of things that she’s slowly acquired over time. It’s nothing too expensive, little nick-knacks and trinkets that she’s found interesting. There’s not more than a few dollars worth into it, but it’s still quite frustrating when she sets it down somewhere, and forgets to pick it back up when she walks away. Twenty minutes later, she’s in a bit of a spiral trying to find it. 

It’s a ways into her search, when she bumps into someone else. They make eye contact for a bit too long, and she pounces.

Miriam has been trying to figure out her way into this club for the last hour or so. It’s not a her problem, at least right now, she’s charming and sweet and can manage to not act all a fool when she focuses. Which is right about now. Unfortunately, they’re so busy that she can’t work her magic to get in. So, Miriam hunts diligently for alternatives.  

The Temple of the Divine is beautiful. Initially, Miriam had gone for the sake of watching the performances, and soon enough, had been caught up in them. Nevertheless, after a few back to back performances, she had her eye caught by a small, interesting phenomenon. The blowing of petals through this place only happened sometime, and without any half bare flowers to show for the blooms, Miriam found herself curious

So, she’s searching around the outskirts of the temple, looking terribly out of place when she encounters someone. 

Blackgrove has been a subject of exploration since she’s been able to travel to it. It’s well past dark at this point, though the energy of the place hasn’t wavered, even as it approaches ten. Head in the sky, Miriam isn’t really interested in much else, instead, trying to draw out images from the heavens. Catching someone else at a similar task, she sidles closer.

Miriam loves adventures like this. There were markets that she had attended in Europe with Katherine, bathed in snow and ever so spectacular in their construction. The compound was at times awash with flowers, and that was almost the same. But this, with all of its energy and life, is enough to send Miriam into an excited flurry as she tries to encounter everything that’s out there. 

Today though, she’s content to go through Kester Park in an attempt at finding something fun to buy. It’s easy, idle work, up until someone bumps into her, which sends her into the back of someone else.

@excessivelyalive

he’s spent a long time tricking himself into thinking he’s suited for domesticity. he still can’t cook anything more complex than a two-egg omelette, still refuses to do most of his own chores, still leaves his things all over the place and huffs at miriam when she asks him to put his socks away–but his home back in the locus was a beautiful example of divine suburbia, and if he can’t do the important things by himself then he at least knows how to take care of the minutia.

in this case, the minutia of the day is interior decorating, and fantasy ikea is his helpless victim. miriam too, he supposes, but if she didn’t want to come along she should have put up more of a fuss.

there’s a basket on his arm, a furrow in his brow, a tank-top with armholes that are entirely too big draped over his Naturally Sculpted Chest. the calid saint, glory-born, god-maker, is crouched in the cutlery aisle, staring at dessert spoons.

“your opinion,” he asks miriam, though there’s no note of an actual question in the flatness of his tone. “i can’t pick between oppressive utilitarianism–” this with a gesture at some offensively plain spoons, the kind that would make you feel grim just by using them; “or antique whimsy.” the whimsical spoons are brass-tinted and engraved with scenes of Woodland Frolicking.

these are the spoons one chooses if they want to invite guests over and make them feel as uncomfortable as possible.

which, given that this is cal we’re talking about… miriam shouldn’t be surprised.

Miriam has an odd way of going about things. It’s subtle at first, hidden behind these sweetness laden smiles that she seems so good at giving. In this case, she’s paying Cal near no mind, driving the cart here and there as she looks at everything from kitchen gadgets to mugs to small appliances. There’s nothing she’s dead set on, though, save for a fun looking set of salt and pepper shakers, alongside an electric kettle. 

When Cal calls for her, she skids to a stop, pulling her weight backwards to stop the forward momentum put up by the cart. Hopping down from her spot, Miriam saunters over, half crouching so she can drape herself overtop Cal’s back. 

“I think they’re both weird as hell, and I’d rather get spoons that look like they belong to a vampire if we’re going for off putting but not frightening sorts of vibes, you know? If we get fancy plates for special occasions or whatever, we can go full woodland creature there, for contrast. Actually wait-” Miriam wrinkles her nose. “Never mind. I hate that now. I think we should get brass colored silverware, but get nothing else that matches it.” 

||  █ ▌— kieran smiles and twists a loose lock of hair around his finger, humming gently. he’s a little enchanted by her expression, if he’s honest, the dreaminess of it. ❝ it is nice… i like the smiles they wear, you know? ❞ he’s not leaving information out on purpose.

❝ goddess, ❞ he repeats, his smile widening. now that sounds right, and she certainly looks the part. ❝ yeah, i could see that. you look like the kind of woman someone could worship. with wine and flowers, maybe? ❞ he knows some goddesses demand more visceral things, sugars and meat, but he doesn’t do the whole worship thing personally, and doesn’t exactly know which ones.

❝ i do like what i see. ❞ he’s looking back at her, gold eyes a little wide. ❝ i’m glad you think i’m pretty. i like to think i take care of myself and all that. honey-milk baths and fresh fruit and other things that are good for the skin… mm, you probably don’t need any of that, though. i bet you’re gorgeous all on your own, huh? ❞

It likely helps, that Miriam’s warm, infectious energy has returned to her. It creeps up and wraps around those she comes close to, and Miriam thinks it’s likely no different for the other, even if he has an inhuman energy. After all, Nemiza was affected by it, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Miriam had always enjoyed it, like she enjoys the attention that’s offered now.

||  █ ▌— ❝ it’s supposed to be very pleasant for those we take. they never complain, at least, and always go home happier than they arrived… ❞ that’s partly attributed to the fact that kieran dances them out of their heads, takes them by the hand and spins them around until they’re so dizzy from the magic and music and spinning that they can’t think straight anyway…

❝ when i get back the power to steal humans, do you want to spend a little time giddy and thoughtless? if it’ll even work on… whatever you are. i think only the fae are immune, but it’s not like i’ve tested it. ❞

he glances at her, up and then down again. it seems fairly innocent, at least until he grins, unashamed. ❝ i can see why… how could any god resist such a cutie as yourself? especially a dour god, like it sounds like yours is, thouhg i’ve never met a death-god before. ❞ her energy is definitely contagious, and he’s moving a little as well, swaying slightly as if to music only he can hear.

“Oh, that does sound nice though.” A bit dreamy in expression, Miriam clasps her hands together, trying to imagine just what Kieran speaks of. Some of it is clear through the implications alone, though Miriam seems content to not push with too many more questions. Perhaps the other will tell her more sometime, with a little bit of pressing. 

“Deity. Goddess, even.” Miriam reminds with a gentler voice this time, head tilting at Kieran’s offer. Soon enough, she does nod, and looks a touch more devilish. “I’d like that. I just love getting to lose my head sometimes, so if you want to take little old me on a journey? I’d be touched.” 

@excessivelyalive​​ || sc.

  Ten dollars, no matter how you look at it, is not a lot of dosh. Sure, it might go further considering there aren’t any T*co B*lls around here, but 10 US dollars wouldn’t even last the most responsible of people any longer than like, 2 days tops. So naturally, there’s only one thing for it. After heading to the local unnamed art supply store that definitely doesn’t rhyme with Ficheal’s and spending his money wisely, Deadpool heads back to the best place to meet new people. The street. On said street is a very surprisingly well crafted booth made of cardboard, decorated with some glitter, colored paper, and a few smears of red that look like they might have been intended to be lips. Atop the booth is a sign, handwritten in what looks like a child’s best attempt to be neat the words “KISSING BOOTH” as well as a mason jar and a smaller sign that reads “50 cents or whatever the fuck heck dang currency here is.”

  “Kisses!” His voice rings out, though not as loudly as him banging on a stainless steel pot with a rock. Honestly, he looks like a spandex’d out caveman, but he’s doing his best. “Fifty cents a kiss, five bucks for me to stop banging on this thing for long enough to get away from the sound! Ten bucks for me to shut up for a whole three minutes! Kissing booth! Come get your kisses while they’re hot and fresh!” He’s so loud, and there are quite a few coins in his jar already, though it’s safe to assume they’re all from passersby requesting some peace and quiet rather than kisses.

It’s questionable, how Miriam comes about money. She does have a job, but she seems to spend at times, more than she ought to. This is one of those times, given the fact that she’s gone absolutely wild at the corner store, and is now eyeing this stranger who seems to be making an absolute racket. An interesting gambit, using auditory torment to extort others for money. Miriam, who is no longer sensitive to things like this (in this mood at least), finds this absolutely hilarious, and strolls over with a skip in her step. 

“Kissing booth, eh? Clever marketing strategy, but your prices...” Miriam lets out a low whistle, hands on her hips and expression contemplative. “Your prices leave a bit to be desired, hon. I’d charge way more to shut the hell up.” Grin cheeky and motions easy Miriam rests herself on the edge of the booth’s counter, intent on continuing this realm of conversation. 

Digging into her pocket, Miriam produces a bill that looks suspiciously like a fifty denomination. Wiggling it back and forth, she doesn’t tease long, before stuffing it in the jar. 

||  █ ▌— kieran smiles a little at the words, considering. he looks a little thoughtful. ❝ you’re right. there’s a lot of significance in a soul. i still wouldn’t know what to do with one. i deal in the… in other things. mostly we keep to ourselves, in my court, but when we take humans we take the whole thing, body and soul and all. ❞

not that he personally does a lot of that, but the process is something he’s aware of. and he’s helped them along enough times, with his musical gifts…

❝ my king is a dream… he saved my life, you know. he said, ‘you will live’ and… so i did. ❞ kieran’s explanation was… rather simplified, but he doesn’t remember most of it. ❝ he’s amazing. so smart, and he’ll catch me one day and drag me home. ❞

holy energy, huh? interesting. ❝ like… from a god? that sort of ‘holy.’ ❞

“I can’t say I have any on me right now, or that I’d know what to do with them had I had them.” Perhaps it would be best to just let them escape into the wilds of the open. Miriam prefers that sort of thing, after all, there is more freedom to life with no influence of her own upon it. “Taking them? That sounds kind of nice, honestly. I could use some time out of my head.” 

She straightens out, offering this dreamy sort of look that she’s partially concocted to make herself feel cute. It works rather well, Miriam thinks, briefly batting her lashes at the other.

“Such power. My lover had to bring us both to the elder gods for permission to restore me. It  was through their grace that I ascended to what I am now.” Miriam, over excited and bounding in her energy, spins in a circle, arms thrown wide. “Holy indeed.” 

it’s testament to how incredibly wild life is in the locus that he hardly reacts to her sudden psychic emotion-reading nonsense. no, maybe that’s the reaction itself, the way his spine stiffens just so, the smile that freezes itself on his lips as if this is just par for the course. “oh, it’s just the humidity. nothing you need to worry yourself about, honey.”

he can feel that he wants to draw back, to string her along until he can have his fun and then cut her loose–like he usually does–be done once and for all with women who don’t know how to keep their noses out of his business.

she can probably see that, too. the twitch of irritation that scrapes its way up, blooming and freezing in place.

(it’s a good thing he’s temperamental and all but guaranteed to change his mind at the drop of a hat.)

“i think i’m willing to make a case for, like, a little egg roll or something, if you don’t want to deal with a messy yolk. although i guess if you don’t want messy, don’t eat a burger.” his stomach twinges with the beginnings of a feeling he isn’t able to identify as ‘hunger’. “i mean, whatever. what’s e. coli going to do to me. don’t say gastroenteritis, i’m physically and legally immune.”

and then he turns that snapshot smile down at her again, doesn’t miss a step as he asks: “hey. what the hell is wrong with you, anyway?”

Miriam catches every moment of it, and twines it between her fingers like a length of string. However, she’s careful, and doesn’t say a word about it as they continue their stroll. 

“The humidity? Shame. It’s so close to being such a nice day.” She responds to the pet name with a beam, free hand resting on her hip as she processes everything she’s getting. This still feels pliable, and Miriam, while silly, is not stupid, and seems to have a realization of the potential she’s toying with. It’s hardly a full picture, but she’s just as well on the right track. 

What’s wrong with you? Miriam barks out a laugh, and loses some of the saccharine tone she had been holding on to. “Oh shit, do you want like, a list or something? I can do that, but that might be a later conversation.” 

There’s a wink in there somewhere, she’s pretty sure she managed to pull it off as they continue this wild back and forth.