Look at all those chickens

Artisan Market 
#1
For the April Fools event! >:D


Outfit plus sunglasses bc the light sucks ass.

It'd been.. nearly a week since she'd 'died' and yet, here she was, taking Robbie's advice and exploring what Red Rock had to offer. Truth be told, she'd never set foot in the artisan market and... Well. Might as well do that now, since, y'know, she could still walk in the sunlight without becoming a burned piece of bacon.

It was around 3pm and she was just strolling about, pretty much bored of her very existence, up until she had the luck of bumping into an argument between a mother, a five year-old and some guy selling eggs. From the sound of it, the kid had kiiiiiiiinda murdered two cartons of eggs accidentally―or otherwise―pushing them off the counter.

The mother had agreed to pay for the damage done, but this dude just couldn't calm his fucking man-tits down. Like jeez dude, calm the fuck down. It was just a kid and kids had the magical ability of breaking shit on accident. No need to yell at him―especially not when your ass was getting paid for the damage.

But, nope.

Apparently you had to.

'Cause this is how you made the world a better place.

By the time an exasperated sigh snaked its way out of her, the kid had broken down to tears and the mother was left in the madness of it all. Cocky dude ranting angrily from the left and kid crying his heart out from the right, 'cause some forty year-old couldn't keep his temper under control.

But Mr Cocky was not the only one with a temper here; the whole vampire transition thing had made her kinda.. ah... sensitive and she wasn't about to sit back and do nothing. Instead, she chose to take advantage of the whole situation and, very discreetly, make her way towards the chicken pen―or whatever the fuck it was called, she couldn't care less―which.. luckily enough, had the door on its side, making her life a thousand times easier.

So, without really wasting any time, she opened the door just a tad―enough for the chickens to roam free if it struck them so―and slunk back amidst the crowd. She'd eventually halt and find a nice little spot to watch the situation unfold before her eyes. Entertainment was grand, made life so much more interesting.

@Cliff Douglas
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#2
look at all those CHICKENSSS


Cliff was... a little low on money since the bed incident. Not completely broke, but cutting dangerously close to his cut off for what he allowed himself to spend a month on miscellaneous stuff. He had savings, and inheritance, but that stuff was reserved for the future. So here he was, hanging out in Red Rock for the day, selling off the carvings that he’d made but really hadn’t known what to do with but keep in his workshop for no one to ever see. Well, here they were.

Business had gone well, and he’d actually gotten a good amount of clients out of it. Lots of work on the horizon, but Cliff didn’t mind it. Kept his mind off other things. But the day had been long, and he knew one thing; he fucking hated the sound of chickens. All. Day. Long. Cluck, cluck, cluck, CU-CAAHHHH. FUCKING. CHICKENS.

So by the time the sun was setting and he was heading out, he was ready to get the fuck away from the stall next to his. That was, of course, until he heard the upset of the man, literally yelling at some lady and her child. Well. What the fuck. With his jaw set, Cliff made his way over, not at all afraid to step in. ”Listen, buddy, it’s just some fucking egg-“

That’s when it happened.

Chicken-geddon.

He hadn’t even notice the smell of rot, or the movement as he’d made his way over of someone unlatching th coop. What he did notice was the pouring of chickens from the gate, their confused dash toward them, then the complete and utter chaos as every single one of them realized there was a gigantic bear in front of them. He’d thought he’d seen a lot of feathers when he’d destroyed his bed. This was a new record. Every chicken went into psycho-panic overdrive. Screeching and clicking and flapping their useless wings in an explosion of sound and movement and feathers, all around them. Chickens burst up between himself and the man, the woman and child were lost in the storm, the table that held the eggs was upturned.

”Ah, fucking-“ A chicken smacked him squarely in the face. ”Arghhhh,” His yell of discontent rang out among the cacophony of yelling and screaming and chicken shrieking. Cliff staggered backward, tensed to the teeth against the overwhelming urge to allow the Bear to make an appearance and turn this into a smörgåsbord.
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#3
Chicken-geddon.

The end of the world was slowly unfolding before her eyes.

Chickens flew everywhere, chickens flailed everywhere, chickens clucked everywhere and.. a chicken also smacked some guy squarely in the face. She felt her stomach tighten as she attempted to stifle a laugh and keep a straight face and, whilst it took quite a bit of effort, her expression remained largely impassive.

The egg counter got toppled over, eggs falling to the ground like rain. Everything got fucked and she was thoroughly enjoying this―save perhaps for the dude who'd tried to intercept the douchebag from shouting at the kid, but, really. There was nothing she could do to save his soul.

People began to gather all around the scene, with a good portion of them just laughing their hearts out and others blabbing words that did not particularly interest her. The scene was grand, but she wasn't about to move from where she was; she blended in just fine, with people at either side of her, observing the show just as silently.

This was just too easy.

Way too easy.

Perhaps Robbie was right; Red Rock was fun, after all.
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#4
Fucking. Chickens. Cliff grunted and cursed as he swung his arms and ducked his head, beating away chickens as he trekked from the eye of the storm. Directly into someone. She was taller than him but freakishly skinny. Cliff extended his hands to steady her as their momentum pushed them back behind the gathering crowd.

”Sorry!” He reached up to touch the shallow scrapes across his cheek.... only to feel them dissolve away. He paused a beat, his eyes locking on the girl for a moment, before he tried to pull off a smooth motion in which he rubbed at his face with his palm then drew it backward up through his hair and to the back of the neck. Totally casual. Cuts didn’t just completely disappear right in front of your face, lady. Nope.
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#5
She should've seen this coming, but she honestly hadn't.

The guy just.. sort of fell onto her to escape the chicken-geddon she'd created and she took a few stumbling steps backwards before regaining balance fully. His assistance was unneeded, but the notion was.. appreciated? She was uncertain, mostly because her mood was rather questionable lately.

But, whatever.

”Sorry!”

"Don't worry about it," the response was quite casual, eyes narrowing behind the shades as she regarded his features. The cuts had not gone unnoticed by her, nor had their disappearance, but... she wasn't sure if she wanted to prod him about it; maybe he was just a shifter. A shifter who she would be foolish to piss off. "You alright?" Taking a step back, she regarded him for a moment.

The guy was, quite bizarrely, shorter than her and solid.

A weird combination indeed.
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#6
The girl was actually super tall, so it was with no qualms that he let her go. Distance made the height difference feel like less. It wasn't, but he could pretend physics worked like that. Anyway, she was fine, and apparently didn't notice the freakish healing. Or, if she did, it wasn't something she thought was out of the ordinary. So he dropped his hand and shrugged. "Uh, yeah, you? Let's uh," He motioned away from the tornado of chickens. The further he got from them, the more they'd calm down. He started to move away, not really caring too much if the girl followed.
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#7
"Uh, yeah, you? Let's uh."

Sure, why the hell not, dude. Wasn't like she had anything better to do.

A faint hum was elicited from her in response to his query, quite musical in tone and she let her gaze shift sideways to regard him as she picked up her pace so that they could walk side by side. "So, you work here, or..?" Maybe he sold his stuff in the market—whatever he could sell in this place anyway.
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#8
She followed, which was fine. She even went for conversation. “Oh, uh, sort of? Out here selling some carvings I made...” He gestured back toward the booth. “You just shopping around?” why was he having this conversation with some random gothic Barbie doll? Maybe to try and forget about all the chickens.
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#9
So he was an artist of sorts? The girl was reminded of Robbie briefly and her colorful art.

Hmm.. certainly not the same thing, but at least both of them did something creative.

"You just shopping around?"

Was she? "Not really, just checking the place out; a friend suggested I swing by sometime—didn't expect to witness chicken-geddon upon first arriving here," a mirthful huff left her and she smiled subtly. She was the one to release all those chickens, so of course she expected that to happen. The guy didn't have to know that, though; none of them did.
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#10
Wasn’t hat the same thing? You didn’t have to buy stuff to be shopping. Whatever. “Yeah, I dunno what that was all about. That asshole deserved it, though.” Shrug. Cliff didn’t deserve a chicken to the face, but he guessed the sacrifice was for a good cause.
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#11
He wasn't the very interesting sort, was he now?

"Karma has a way of getting back at you—even in the form of chickens," she snickered lightly, her expression flooding with mirth. Except, this wasn't karma; this was Amy and her wicked sense of justice. Still, it made for good entertainment, no complaining there.

But, anyhow.

She knew when to make her exit and so, she gradually skidded to a halt, attention on the guy. "I think it's time for us to part ways—I have yet to explore the rest of the market," she made a quick gesture with her hand, tone light as a faint smile stretched the corners of her mouth. It was a shame she didn't find their conversation as entertaining as the one Robbie and herself had.
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