Happy Birthday//Welcome Home!

[alittlehinky]

The garden is flourishing, a riot of blooms at one end, plants heavy with fruit at the other. The chickens are in place, over two dozen of them in an oversized coop at one end of the property. The barn is unfinished, but the moonshining shed is massive, shiny and new, with locks on the doors and storm shutters on the windows, in case of another winter like the last.

The house is not huge, a sturdy two-bedroom place built with thick stone walls. It contains single floor for living, a small attic, and a deep split-level cellar. The furniture has been moved in; it's all secondhand but repaired and refinished.

By Cricket's own standards, the place is practically a palace. He never dreamed he would own so much land--granted, this is the Nexus so the topography and acreage may fluctuate, his claim may be challenged legally, whatever--it belongs to him right now, he bought it with money he earned, and he's got the living space upon it arranged to his liking.

It's sunset, and there are fairy lights strung up on the porch and in the yard, tables with food and moonshine set out, and beneath the treeline off to the right of the house there are fireflies flickering. There's a radio playing music, and lots of blankets spread on the grass for sitting or watching the stars. It's meant to be a low-key affair, but enough people wanted to see Cricket's place he felt like a party was the right idea. A small one. A quiet one.

(This is the Nexus, and there are Lokis. There is always a chance small and quiet may not stay small and quiet.)

The cake, in case anyone wants to know, is vanilla with blackberry filling. There's no writing on it, but it's the centerpiece of the food table. Cricket's not in the habit of demanding attention on his birthday, but...blackberry cake.

[[ETA: Please feel free to assume if your character knows Cricket they were invited via text or face-to-face discussion. If your character doesn't know Cricket personally but you want them to drop in, feel free to PM me and we'll figure out a reason to get them there.]

Comments

[totallyadog]

A dog rushes up to Cricket, giving a series of happy barks. Bob's happy to see Cricket again, even though he doesn't transform here. There are too many people here he doesn't know, and he's been a lot more wary about using his alien powers ever since the Guardians showed up. There's an envelope in his mouth - a happy birthday card, signed by both Bob and Blair.

Hello! So this must be where you live. Bob puts the envelope down, getting a better sense of the house's environment. Blair and I have a place near the edge of the Wilds. He goes there to study the animals sometimes. I come along to keep anything too dangerous at bay and keep us away from places we aren't supposed to be. We don't go in the inhabited areas so much.

Blair sends his regards. Sorry we haven't kept in touch. After everything that happened this winter, I have to be much more careful around transforming in front of strangers. I'm afraid with the Guardians and Fallen both here this form is much safer. But it is nice to see you again!

[alittlehinky]

Even though Cricket knows perfectly well that Bob is not actually a happy dog, he can't resist coming over and crouching to ruffle his fur. "Evenin', Bob!" He laughs softly, accepting the card.

"It's a'ight. I'm glad to see you. If I save a piece of cake for Mr. Blair, you think you can take it back for him?" He scratches behind Bob's ears lazily. "You're welcome in any form."

He...probably shouldn't be so cavalier about that. His chickens would probably be terrified of the Thing's true shape. But at least Cricket trusts Bob not to cause him trouble. "I guess you don't really eat, but if you wanna try anything I could make you a plate."

[totallyadog]

The dog sits on its haunches as Bob contemplates Cricket's question. We do eat - though it's more-or-less a way to disguise ourselves. We don't get so much nutrition from what we eat, since we don't need food the way Earth life does. Do you have any meat?

He relaxes, appreciating the pats. He isn't really a dog, but he is still doggish enough to appreciate a good pet, and he appreciates how welcoming Cricket is even knowing that Bob is an alien.

Thank you. I'm more careful about who I show myself to these days, but you have my trust. I can take a piece of cake back for Blair. He's still a little reserved about going out in public, so he sent me in his place.

[alittlehinky]

"I do! Forrest brought fried chicken. Don't eat the live chickens, I want 'em for eggs, and they're kind of pets, but Forrest makes a damn good fried chicken."

Funny how petting Bob feels just like petting an ordinary dog would. Fluffy and a little wiry, warm. Doggy.

"If you need a place to hide out, I got a cellar," he tells Bob, hoping it's an unnecessary offer, but meaning it. "C'mon up on the patio, and I'll put some chicken on a plate for you. Watch out for the bones. Dogs ain't supposed to eat chicken bones in case they stick in their throats."

[totallyadog]

Don't worry, I have no plans to eat the live chickens. If I did, you would have a flock of Thing-chickens, and no one in the Nexus wants that. Bob smiles, a little creepy coming from a dog.

It's no surprise that his fur feels soft and doggy. The fur is a perfect imitation of a real dog's fur.

Choking wouldn't be an issue for me. Bones are organic. I could simply absorb the bone into my tissue - I can't suffocate like people do. But thank you for the warning. Bob jumps onto the patio, patiently waiting for Cricket to give him chicken as he wags his tail.

[alittlehinky]

"Would Thing chickens give normal eggs, or would they be Thing eggs?" Cricket's brow creases. He would not want to find out firsthand, of course, because he knows how Kinner died milking a cow that was not a cow. It would be as awkward or worse to be devoured by a hen as he tried to collect eggs.

His expression clears a little as Bob explains he can't choke on the bones. That's all right thing. "So I reckon then it doesn't matter if I were to give you somethin' to eat that dogs couldn't normally, either? I know you ain't supposed to give 'em onions. Not sure why."

He puts a chicken thigh on a plate, along with half of one of the fluffy rolls Forrest brought, and sets the plate on the ground for him with a smile.

[totallyadog]

You know, I'm not sure. I suspect they would hatch Thing eggs. We are perfect copies, and that means we can copy those organs, too. In either case, it's better that I not take any of your chickens. However, dead meat will do the same job for less risk.

Things can die, but they're harder to kill than the real versions of the creatures they pose as. Fire, strong acids, and electricity can kill a Thing, but they cannot be shot, stabbed, or poisoned fatally. They can assimilate toxins without being affected by them, simply shifteng into a form that would be unhurt.

Bob comes over and picks up the chicken thigh in his mouth. He swallows, but rather than digest food as a real dog would the chicken is simply absorbed directly into his body and refreshes his cells. Hm. This is pretty good.

[alittlehinky]

"I definitely don't wanna eat Thing eggs," Cricket smirks, then looks thoughtful. "But after you eat fried chicken, you can be a chicken if you want to?"

He's not sure what the use of that would be, except for hiding, but it does present some interesting possibilities.

He just watches as Bob absorbs the meat. It's visually a little strange, when you're used to dogs crunching up whatever they're eating and dropping crumbs everywhere. Less messy this way, though.

[totallyadog]

Bob answers Cricket's question by transforming from a dog into a chicken. We can use the DNA from whatever we eat. So yes, I can be a chicken now if I'd like to.

Chicken form isn't as combat-capable as dog form, but it could have its uses in spying or generally going unnoticed. No one feels threatened by a chicken. It's only a shame chickens can't fly.

This is the first new form I've picked up since I've come here. It's nice to be a different animal for a change. He flaps his wings slightly.