(2017-08-24) Cook My Pig
Cook My Pig
Summary: It's nearly 'go time' for Besa… he deals with Fionnuala's take on the matter quite gracefully, don't you think?
Date: 2017-08-24
Related: None.
Scene Runner: NA

Arts Room, Coral Springs
Thu Aug 24, 2017

More to come, multi-media abound. From a corner of stone blocks for printing and racks for paintings or paper art, to light tables, and cutting tables.

OOC: Scene soundtrack:
"Strawberry Fields Forever" - The Beatles
"Breathe (In The Air)" - Pink Floyd


Besa's been very absent or quiet when he is around lately. this week even more so, although currently he's got an old fashioned crack record player going in the arts room and he's listening to….the Beatles? Strange! The teen has on an old goth shirt from Sky that's just starting to get to small for him, and he's covered his hands and arms in clay as he works. Beautiful hair hangs loosely as he bops along to the music. There's several pieces drying on the rack already, seems he's been in here a long time. The crank of the record player has drying clay on it.

<FS3> Fionnuala rolls Singing: Good Success.

Once a week or so, Fionnuala makes her way back to Coral Springs to look in on a 'project'. She started it at the tail end of June, and got the clearance to come to and from the school as needed to work on it. Throughout July she may have.. kinda.. uh.. screwed the pooch and did very little with it. But as August wanes, a new fire has been lit underneath her arse to get things finished up. It's a gift for her father, long story short.

Today brings the young shifter into her personal haven: the art room! Clad in fitted skinny-jeans that have seen better days and an indigo camisole bearing the likeness of a Care Bear —- Grumpy Bear to boot, how incongruent — Fee is about to stroll on in until two things catch her attention: someone is here. And there's music. Music. That. She. LOVES.

Having walked into the middle of this decidedly enjoyable song, Fee catches the verse as easily she would a ball and her trilling, lovely little singing voice — (OOC: Akin to Emiliana Torrini) — precedes her. It is not-at-all an offensive, startling sound; it may as well be Fionnuala singing her hello to Besa-of-the-perfect-hair.

"Let me take you down," She sways in with a flourish. "Because I'm going to strawberry fields~!" The girl's grin is wide and sunny. "Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about~"

"Strawberry fields forever…!"

Besa looks up from the wheel, a new something not yet born and smiles warmly up at Fionnuala. There's something different about the ancient teen today, like he's got a weight lifted off of him. "Hello Fionnuala. I hope you are doing well?"

Swiping up a paintbrush, Fionnuala is into it. "Always, no, sometimes think it's me," She trills sweetly, with her impromptu microphone. Too bad it's been used recently by another visiting summer school student, it's just Fee's luck. "But you know I kno—-"

Having plucked the thing from a cup of water, where it had been left to soften the stubborn black paint that the bristles were caked in, a great glob dribbles down to spatter all over Grumpy Bear's face. Fee stops in her solo and deadpans, lips curling shyly. "Oh, bother.. look at what I went and did…" She laments, lashes fluttering as she looks down at her shirt and puts the brush away. "See what happens when you get too full of yourself?" The girl laughs; it's a thrift-store shirt anyway. Besa speaks to her and she ambles over to join him, the remnants of the iconic song crooning along in the background. "Hi, Besa!" Fee greets, looking at him closely and not. Nosey crow. "I'm alright… been a slacker and making up for my crimes. How are you?"

Besa's eyes widen and he tries to keep the smile from edging too much onto his face. He looks nice when he's happy. That perfect hair sways (Why isn't someone videoing it!?!?!?) as he nods, "Yes, I see that." His wheel slows, as he talks, no use kicking it if he doesn't need to , "I am well. I have some pieces to finish up."

Well, at least she's amusing… Fee will write-off her shirt if it means scoring a smile. The rest of her is reasonably well-put-together: hair piled up high in a maddened ponytail, the barest flirtation with makeup, bare feet pressed into dainty flats. Then, over her shoulder before having been dropped unabashedly for her big gig… a chunky beast of a purse and/or shoulderbag. Hefting it back up, the slight girl moves to drop it down upon a seat beside a table, where sculpting is typically afoot. It lands with a 'WHUMP' that jingles slightly; what is in that bag? Fee will get to the meticulously covered and sealed wad of plastic that is set up at one corner of the table… Besa is in her sights now.

"You should be in magazines." Fee says outright, eyes sparkling.. literally. She is full of sunshine. "What are you working on?"

Fee's next bit of curiosity is the elephant in the room; she remembers that last difficult conversation she had with the boy. Could it have blown over? Is he really ok?

Besa eyes the bag briefly, but isn't impolite enough to ask. His head tilts, "Magazines? I do not write…" Yeah, he's oblivious. "I want to make Rain an ice cream bowl." Who knows if it has? There's only one way to find out!

Fwoosh, see that flying high? Soaring majestically? There goes Fee's point, sailing right over Besa's pretty hair. Look at it go, into the horizon! Fionnuala blinks once, twice; her keen mind fills in the blanks and she laughs quickly. "Fashion magazines… or any of those rags that have pretty pictures of people. You and that hair.. two-page spread." She chimes, plopping down into a chair and shimmying a bit closer so she can watch what the Egyptian boy is doing. Fee smells clean and pleasant, kinda like nectarines. Huh.

"Rain… Rain.. don't know if I've met her, but I heard. Sky's sister, right?" She asks, before looking from Besa's face with her big glowing eyes and back down to the bowl that is waiting to be born. "That looks like a good bowl.. make it nice and deep to hold all the ice cream." Fee beams, before sobering a bit.

"Are you okay though? I kinda… remember our last talk. I haven't seen you much since and wondered… if things are still happening." She looks briefly uncomfortable. ".. do you really have to.. die?" Well that was sudden… but Fee was never one to beat around the bush.

Besa glances down at his hand me down shirt, but then she's clarifying it's his hair. "Oh…yes." Are his cheeks going pink? Maybe a little. Besa smells of dirt, as always. "Yes, she and Schuyler are twins." He grins then, "Yes. All the ice cream for Rain." He looks down at the bowl, but then she's asking and he looks back up, "Me? Yes, I am. I….am no longer with Whitley." Which may explain him making the gifts again. He nods, "Yes, this Sat. That is why I need to finish the pieces." His smile turns softer and he sighs, "I do. We have not come up with any other solutions. But it is alright. I am happy knowing that you will all continue on."

Here's where it gets a bit difficult. Because Besa goes on to be all sweet and cute in his Besa way… and it has to be such a profound trait because it's already roped Fee in. She's met the boy, what… a handful of times? Enough to really surmise and appreciate his sweet manner and to further agonize over the notion of this boy having to be sacrificed. What was she hoping for, really? For him to shrug and tell her 'it's done and over with, I'm fine, my boyfriend and I made up and he's going to bring me chocolates this afternoon'—-

Let's cut that rose-colored vision off right there.

Fionnuala is silent as she looks at the bowl and listens to Besa's words… somehow when he says 'this Sat' it's as if he is scheduled for a dentist appointment or something quite as mundane. Fee's lips turn down into a sad little moue as her eyes begin to glitter with the beginnings of tears. And all he wants to do is finish his work before he dies.

"W-will it hurt?" She asks, suddenly. She's no longer traipsing in Strawberry Fields of any sort.

That's a complicated question, so Besa answers it as kindly as he can, "It will be quick." Thin fingers gentle touch the wet clay in front of him, "And perhaps I will defeat Alraxmargoth'ha quickly and return. It is all very…unknown." Dark large eyes lift and he smiles again at her, "What are you working on? May I see?" And now to change the subject!

Well, Fee can't sit here peppering the poor boy with questions, all of which surround a great unknown. Alas, talk of this being 'quick' and the revealing of the demon's name aren't necessarily a comfort. Besa smiles at her regardless of it all and the expression is not lost on Fionnuala, though her eyes flit to the working of the clay and stay there for a few seconds longer. "What a nasty, nasty sounding name." She admits, her tone a bit heavy as she clenches her fists once in her lap. The boy asks of the girl's own work, which she had pretty much forgotten completely about, and she pushes herself up out of the chair quickly and turns toward the table where she initially set up shop. This brief turning away allows Fee to fist the bit of moisture from her eyes, though the smile remains in her tone.

"Something for my Da." She answers simply, trying to keep the conversation light though her mind veers often toward what 'quick' thing awaits Besa. Ugh, ugh. The distraction is needed.

"He's thinking of taking the dive into his own business soon s-so it's something for good luck, heh." Fionnuala admits, beginning to pull away the tape from the bottom of the lump of bundled plastic. "It's really kinda ridiculous.. I may have left it for too long but I think I kept the clay wrapped tightly enough.

For some reason, that makes Besa laugh. His hand lift as he giggles and he rubs his forehead with his forearm. His left one bares the scars from before still. "Yes…it is particularly nasty when having to spell it." He sits up straight to see what she's going to unveil. "The fact you thought to make this at all for him will make him happy." Whether it's ridiculous or not.

"Now you're just being too sweet. It really is ridiculous." Fee snickers, though she does not say this in a mean or disparaging way. She speaks of her project as one would a quirky child that is loved dearly; affectionately. She's peeling away the wrapping now but not tossing it, in case she needs it again.. though much of the groundwork is done… she just needs to make sure the clay is still soft enough for her to begin cutting and shaping. But there, about the size of a watermelon, sits a perfectly rendered pig that is sitting upright as if it were taking it's place at a table for teatime. Four carefully sculpted legs articulate like pegs from it's fat body; it's piggish features are pulled up into a look of bliss. But hey, it's holding something!

A bowl of ravioli!

Fionnuala blushes, then. "Da's a sous chef. H-he likes pigs. So.. uh…" She looks from the cute porker, back to the cute Egyptian. "… yeah. Heh. Just have to get detailing done, get him fired up.. and the painting will follow."

Besa's nose wrinkles, adding to the cute factor. "I am not sweet. I do not know why everyone says that." He's a trained killer (hopefully!). He takes a moment to study the piece before his face breaks into a warm grin, "It is wonderful. He will be very happy with the swine!" Cause swine sounds fancier, right? "Is it for his kitchen, or his office?"

Aw poor Besa… Fee will just leave that there, nose-wrinkle and all. She watches anxiously as he observes the.. swine… her arms folding in front of her bosom awkwardly as she takes in every piggish detail. When Besa goes and calls it a swine, Fionnuala coughs hard and breaks into a staccato of pleasant laughter. "I'm sure he will be! My luck he'll put this right front and center in the lobby of.. whereever he decides to set up. He's just that kinda guy. So the pressure is on…" Fee trails off, going to get her 'fine' tools: delicate wire tools, carving knives…. everything to give this swine some degree of.. ah, class.

"Don't let me keep you from your ice cream bowl.. maybe you being hard at work will inspire me to get this thing done." Fee says gently as she goes to find an apron of sorts. She will have to moisten the hog some, get some slurry action going… but he is not too far-gone!

Besa nods, liking that her father will display it. After painting it you should consider glazing it to seal the paint and protect it." He glances tot eh record play, which has finally stopped, "If you would like to listen to music, you can pick the next record album." And with that he starts kicking the wheel again, he indeed has to finish this. He may have to cheat and dry it with a rune.

"That sounds like a fine idea." Fee agrees, on a few different fronts. Always; always is she open to suggestions to better herself. "Aren't pigs supposed to be shiny? Big and fat and shiny and…" Fee looks into the unfinished features of Ailbeart's mascot-in-the-making. She rubs her forehead. "Yeah I think I'll do that. I want this thing to be around by the time I'm an old granny—-" She catches herself, pauses, smiles sadly. There is that brief flirtation with the previous sad topic; she sure hopes Besa comes back quickly and easily from whatever this horrible thing awaits him. He makes it sound so simple, so… best not think about it. Time to pick another record.

"Let's see what you got over here, for music. I already like what played.." She says as she pads over to the record player, once Besa kicks the wheel up again. Fee begins to look at the records, but cannot help but add. "Thanks for everything, Besa.. I really.. really hope everything goes smoothly for you. That's you'll be back." She looks quickly at her choices, then over a shoulder at the pig.

"I think I'll name him Edgar." Fee says, combatting her sudden hit of sadness with the thought.

Besa shrugs softly about the pig. He's seen some, but not recently in this life time. The records are all very….eclectic. Like someone who doesn't know modern music was trying to learn. The bowl starts to form , but he can respond, "I am very glad to have met you, Fionnuala." Edgar? He smiles again, if he's picking up on her sadness, he's trying o not dwell either.

Deeming Pink Floyd to be suitable for the occasion, Fee wastes little time in getting 'Dark Side of the Moon' lined up. She does so almost reverently, handling the records with care in switching them out. As the player warms up, Fee walks past Besa near-soundlessly and shoots him an earnest, caring smile. Obviously the boy, who yet smells of dirt (it still puzzles Fee) has touched her, and it would be cruel to carry on with wondering about this upcoming sacrifice. Best focus on the good things; all of the peace and enjoyment to be had in this room.

"Now you and Edgar are stuck with my singing." Fee declares as threads of the first track, 'Speak to Me / Breathe', fill the room.

Besa nods approvingly as the music starts. There's very little music he doesn't like so far. "I like your singing. I have lucked out today." He doesn't sing, but his head sways to the beat, while his hands work the clay.

<FS3> Fionnuala rolls Sculpting: Success.

Yup, she's a bit 'off' with Eddie here… but easy does it. Fretting too much over details will ruin things; Fee wants to get some of those darling piggy wrinkles formed just so! Suitably set up with everything she needs, complete with good company and a project, Fionnuala looks content despite her earlier bit of upset that she had managed to keep in check. "The singing, I may explore a bit in the new school year but.. this is what feels right." She says simply, indeed lending her voice to a few verses here-and-there in the very eclectic tracks which span this album, but not overdoing it. As always, she proves to be a very content and easygoing partner to work with in this haphazard mixing of medias in one room.

"Do you have many more projects left u.." Pauses. About to say 'until'. "Many more to go, until you feel you have everything accounted for?"

Besa doesn't mind, not really. And even if he did, he's not tell her, she seems so happy! "There are several singers here at the school that would help you, I am sure." The bowl grows, the lip curls out. It is a rather large bowl, but he's sure Rain will like it. He hopes. "I am going to dry the pieces and then glaze them. But that is it." He's not upset about Sat, or if he is, he's not showing it at all. "Tomorrow the twins will be taking me to the hospital." He's actually smiling about that, weirdly enough.

"Maybe…" Fee starts in regards to the notion of other singers at the school helping her, trails off. She's a bit too shy, yet; at least in that arena of things. "We'll see. It's just a hobby anyway." She shrugs as she reaches forth with wet fingers to stroke the sides of the pig's snout, smoothing down some of the dry surfaces. She leans back, looking 'Edgar' over with a quirked brow, before looking back over a shoulder at Besa and Rain's bowl. Her thoughtful nod is cut short at the mention of… "Hospital? Are you okay?" She asks suddenly… what more could be going wrong?! Why is he smiling?!?

Fionnuala's expression looks unsure and nervous, despite her best efforts to be settled.

Besa smile grows and he nod, "Yes, I am fine. I want to go heal people before Saturday." You know, like every other 14 year old. "Rain wants to go shopping before hand to buy the children toys, I think."

That does it. The finely-wrought tendril of control breaks at so sweet a response and Fionnuala actually whimpers somewhat. "That is so beautiful!" She exclaims, but it's a happy welling-up of emotion. She's really not a blubbery sort, despite being so incredibly emotive…. okay, that's a lie. Her heart is on her sleeve and it's making an appearance, before she turns her teary eyes around to face the pig again. "You're such an old soul.. and that's the very best thing in this world, Besa. When you come back, I hope you're every bit what you are now." Fee says, perhaps a bit naive in the whole scheme of it all, but you can't blame her. A little watery sniffle as her fingers, moistened by her quick tears, touch Edgar's gluttonous face.

Besa's eyes widen, he wasn't expecting that response! "Oh! Please do not cry!" The kicking stops and his hands move away to not harm the bowl. "It is my choice…I…I like to help. It bothers people, so I have not done so as much as I normally do." His arms usually are covered in scars by the time he's sacrificed. She's looking way, but he can tell. "I…I am sorry. Let us not talk of this then." He glances to the pig, "What will Edgar's colors be?"

The watery sound become a bark of a laugh. "No no, I'm not sad—" Fee says quickly, looking over a shoulder. The sunlight in her gaze pulses; seems intensified by her eyes' watering. "These are happy tears. I'm touched. When I hear any tale of people being kind like that, especially to kids, it makes me cry sometimes. I swear I'm not sad." She says quickly in her attempt to reassure the boy that he had done no harm. "It's because you're helping that I'm.. reacting like this. You say you're going to heal people? Kids?" She asks as she rubs her cheek with a muddied hand, doesn't care about the streak. "Is that another power of yours? Can you work some kind of magic?" She asks, not yet answering the question on what colors Edgar will sport. Not yet.

Besa's not certain he believes her, but nods. Girl tears are weird. "I can. My blood carries healing powers." And then not to brag, but he does add, "I have learned magic runes from watching my priests over my life times." She gets a smile and he starts to stand up, "I can show you? I am going to dry the pieces I have to I can glaze them." Apparently he's learned he doesn't need a kiln!

Not for the first time, Fionnuala is left wondering a great many things about this kid. 'Kid'. Fourteen-years-old is still, yet, a kid… at least to most people. Now Fee isn't quite so sure in this case, because many of the fourteen-year-olds she's encountered in town (not necessarily part of the Super school) are snotty and immature. But here…. Besa is not typical. He's Seen Things.

Fee's grin softens into a mellow smile as she rapidly composes herself, "That is amazing… you're a good person, Besa. If anyone isn't deserving of suffering, it's kids…" She trails off, wanting to say more but not risking it. No need to bawl over him again. As he stands, she slaps her muddy hands down onto her narrow thighs. "Please do! I'm getting sloppy, on these summer holidays.. show me what else you can do!" She exclaims, because by extension this could help her get Edgar finished up.

"Maybe then you can cook my pig." Fee chimes.

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