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 Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2011 10:13 am
✁ ▬▬▬▬ SHROVE TUESDAY ▬▬▬▬ with Ellison D. West and his nutcracker putesco and Lulu Rogers and her cloak putesco.
The two meet by fate, or coincidence, at a Shrove Tuesday festival--particularly, the c**k throwing event.
"Susan, I'm stepping out!" Not even a second later, the front door to the Rogers manor closed. Lulu composed herself before walking into the main street and towards the center of the city. The Rogers's estate was not exactly on the outskirts of town, but it wasn't inside as well, you see. An ideal place for Lulu, she was glad Alfred owned it. Key word--owned. Otherwise, who knows where she could be at this very moment--besides back at Yirui, of course.
She supposed, for a change, she could step out and see what all the ruckus was about anyway. Lulu was unfamiliar with the festivities that occurred during this time, and they all looked rather...homely to put it nicely. After the night at the bear garden, Lulu had been craving for some action. Lately all she seemed to be doing was wandering around and simply running into unfamiliar faces in just as unfamiliar places.
As Lulu walked closer and closer, she noticed various huddles of circles throughout the main street. Voices competed with each other and tall men blocked her view. A piper made his way down the path, and various areas were set up for the little kids to run around and such. But Lulu would have none of that. She was far more interested in discovering who or what was emitting those cries of agony, the writhing noises and the cheers that reminded her back to the bears fighting at Gadu Garden.
She squeezed her way, following her ears. With each squawk, Lulu made one step closer--before she realized what it was. A c**k throwing pit. Another exciting blood sport that would allow her--
Bump!
"Pardon me, sire." She muttered as a random man bumped by her, interrupting her heavenly dream of throwing sticks and stones at this defenseless bird. She pulled out her handkerchief to wipe the area of her forearm the man bumped into.
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Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2011 8:53 pm
It had been a simultaneously terrible and liberating month for a certain Mr. Dalton Sharp. Of course he had been sad; he was after all the sole attendee at the funeral, the only one that seemed to dutifully shed a single tear at the sudden news. Mr. Holiday had been a cherished companion and colleague of Sharp's and through thick and thin they had stuck by one another for what seemed to be 20 lifetimes. He was also sure that there were some fleeting moments of fierce, manly bonding and companionship. ..Somewhere in there.... But, after a small chat and thanks to the gravedigger and the priest, there came to him a sudden glorious realization: no one was yelling at him to hurry along. His hands flexed freely to his side as he walked from the graveyard. There weren't any books and bags shoved into his arms, no sudden obligations, or threats in his ears. He. Was. Free.
It was probably of extremely poor character to think these thoughts and feel these feelings.
Promptly the next day, however, he quit his job at Mr. Darling's book store to live his dream; he would become an entertainer because no one was there to ridicule and tell him otherwise.
The first available job he was able to locate and secure a position at was here at this little makeshift arena on the mainstreet, for a supposed "c**k-throwing" contest. He wasn't so sure what that was-- the throwing of chickens? of phalluses? or perhaps it was a metaphor?-- but, from the appearance of such a large crowd in the distance, it certainly did seem exciting. He tried to make his way inward.
And then someone stepped on his foot. He felt a push from behind. And then yet another bump. And yet another.
"Pardon me, sire." came one lady in particular.
"Ah, no, excuse me, ma--." he heard himself say before being rudely interupted by yet another person who had paced right into (through?) him.
"Hey. Watch where you're going, four-eyes."
Sharp looked up, though the glass in his left spectacle had broken and the right had gone missing completely. From what he could gather, the demand came from a certain rosybrown haired gentleman who was now looming unapologetically over him.
---
This man, Mr. Ellison West as he was called, was not in the best of moods. Actually, that was inaccurate for it was a horrible understatement. In truth, he would've rather been at a bar, drinking himself to dead than here. But, along the way to that aforementioned pub, he realized that he was without a single shilling in his coin purse and was very regretably forced instead to detour to this place to make some money. He had a good arm, he knew, gripping the coksteles in his palm. It would be easy.
"Aren't you the new judge?" Elly continued impatiently. "Because you're late, good sir and all of the other games save for ours have already started. The cocks have already been set, and everything."
"I-I'm sorry."
"You should be. Now get up, and do your goddamned job."
He didn't notice as the other man winced as he got up, and moved into the center of the crowd. Instead, Elly beat past a woman (or two) and got into position.
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2011 2:38 pm
Dalton Sharp slowly picked himself up, and when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he began to apologize profusely. "Oh, no no, it's quite alright. Ah, I'm sor...." When he finally turned around, he realized it was simply a Yiruian woman wiping her hand on his sleeve. "O-oh." She noticed his shoulders dropped.
Lulu judged him heavily before walking off. She noticed the man with his off-pink coat push through the women ahead of him and furrowed her brows. Now, Lulu didn't really care what his business was--she didn't even care that he was rude and pushed through a few women, but he was...a curious one. Maybe it was his coat that threw her off. Or maybe it's because she saw a hint of Alfred in him.
Then again, maybe it's because she saw that the event was starting, with Mr. Sharp finally at the judge's table. She saw that the man with the off pink coat reached into a bucket of rocks and...threw it. Not aimlessly, of course. Threw it with a purpose, threw the rock with anger. At a c**k, to be precise. The bird yelped and tried to run away, but the man kept throwing, and throwing, and throwing. It didn't help that the c**k was tied to a rope.
Lulu found herself pushing through the crowds. She only heard the thumps and the yelps, and wanted to get a closer look. This was intriguing. She had no idea what the purpose of this event was, and how it was remotely connected to Shrove Tuesday, but perhaps that was the beauty of it. The next day would be Ash Wednesday, where the respectful people of Gadu would give up something for Lent. Lulu would never understand that.
She heard another yelp, another thud--cue in more laughter and cheers. It reminded her of the bear garden. She closed her eyes and imagined her throwing a rock, with full force, and somehow, in a most morbid way, decapitate a chicken's head. It would run around for a few seconds before it finally slumped. The men around her would cheer and congratulate her on such an achievement. If it was to be considered one, at least.
She opened her eyes when another man (who looked quite disease-ridden, but probably wasn't) bumped into her, and gave her a wink as he attempted to pat her down. She, in turn, stomped on his foot and sashayed away. The view ahead of her was obstructed once more when there seemed to be a disagreement. A few men tended to the dead cocks at the various poles, as more men groaned and whined about the lack of action. It seemed that they wanted to put a stop at the event already. "So soon?" Lulu muttered to herself almost disappointingly.
"W-would you please step down from the table, M-mr. West? T-there's protocol, you see! The townspeople d-don't want to see this nonsense!" The poor man from before was attempting to calm the latter down. All he got was more protests and more requests to see cocks getting killed. "Y'call this a c**k-throwing event! What kind of Shrove Tuesday is this!" A random man from the crowd shouted out before attempting to throw a rock at the judge.
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Posted: Mon Jun 20, 2011 10:41 pm
"So soon?"
"Y-Yes I'm sorry ma'am! A-ah! P-please, everyone! C-calm down! Calm down!" Mr. Sharp flailed his hands about, hoping the movement of his fingers would mollify the crowd sounds and cries. ...Alas, it did not. With each passing moment, everything and everyone became about two notches louder, until it made his ears ring and defeated, his hands went from the air and against his ears. It was almost as bad as when Mr. Holiday was alive.
He really wished he had evaluated the job description more carefully.
All about him, the mess of people seemed to move more malevolently, almost spinning into one giant and smelly and winding and ruddy and dirt-coloured basilisk, threatening to consume everything.
But, just as he was about to slink away from his seat and melt away-- escape from the forming beast and back into Mr. Basil's shop--, Mr. West, said something from his place up on his table, though he wasn't so sure what.
---
If he had better ears, four-eyes would've understood Elly--who had quite the voice-- shouting "How could there not be any cocks on Shrove Tuesday? What kind of bleeding shithole are you running here?" and then, upon noticing a limping thing somewhere behind a mess of lobelia "But, if there aren't any cocks, there's a dog over there. Let's use it!"
Elly knew that dogs were much bigger than chickens, and therefore had to be much harder to kill. To his very slight surprise, there were some men unlike Mr. Sharp, who had heard and had understood. Not only this, but there were even more men that saw his finger and the dog, and thought the same exact thing as Mr. West.
The shouts of anger dissipated into cries of approval and excitement, as a few men surrounded the mongrel, and dragged the mangy thing by its hindlegs legs to the arena. The crowd parted like a Biblical sea as the dog yelping dog and these men passed.
---
The first thing that Dalton thought as the crowds turned from that basilisk to a purring tiger, was that he was quite grateful to Mr. West and whatever he had said to mollify the beast. The next thing he noticed was that there was a dog, and it was being lead through the crowd, and that it was an adorable dog with a fluffy collar and a curling fox-like tail. Mr. Sharp fancied himself a dog person. Mr. Holiday had fancied himself a cat person.
Mr. Holiday made a very clear ban on dogs in their quarters or anywhere near the premises and Chad the Second the Roncat, which made Mr. Dalton quite sad.
To see such a fine canine specimen this close made his lips pucker and reduced his speaking abilities to infantile babbling.
And, then he realized they were tying the poor thing up, where the cocks should have been.
He stood and made to protest. But, all that game out was a helpless "Ububu." All the while, Mr. West stamped his foot, and lept off the table.
"Well let's get this thing bloody started then, shall we?" he muttered, stepping into position and grabbing a cockstele. From behind the crowd whooped, and a certain Yiriun woman smiled.
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