though you know so few words

[drinkupmehearties]

Who| Jack Sparrow and OPEN
What| A fan decides the Capitol's resident pirate needs a fitting companion.
Where| District 8 Suites, the Central Commons, etc.
When| Sometime after the Binding plot.
Warnings/Notes| Swearing, probably drinking, parrot-related stuff, etc. It's Jack Sparrow.

Despite the mess of recent events, Jack had managed to keep himself out of trouble. He'd helped distribute supplies as discreetly as possible around the Capitol, and had finally taken up Swann's suggestion to do a TV special detailing a few harrowing (and some highly exaggerated) stories of his times at sea, with the intent of distracting a chunk of Panem. Nothing that could too concretely link him to the actions of the rebels, but enough to lend a bit of help.

The fall-out, thankfully, hadn't reached him too much, and Jack would rather keep it that way. He didn't know Initiate, or most of whom had been caught, and his role in it all had been overlooked. However, the people of Panem had watched his special. Which meant that one fan in particular had gotten the bright idea that, in order for Jack to be a totally proper pirate cliche, he needed to have a talking parrot too. One that spoke entirely in cheesy 'pirate phrases'.

It had arrived one evening in the middle of his suite room, a dazzlingly bright crimson and azure feathered macaw with a tiny black-and-white pirate hat strapped onto its head. The cage was huge and spacious for the bird, as well as ornate and expensive-looking. Taped on it was a note that read in fancy script: "Arrrr matey! I be enamoured of yer stories cap'n. Here's a mighty treasure for you xoxo"

On first sight, Jack had stared at the scene then immediately turned and left the room. Eventually, though, he'd returned to figure out what to do with the creature. Which clearly meant the parrot needed to be free, and perhaps needed to have a few curse words and colorful phrases added to its vocabulary.


(A. D8 Common Room)

Sometime later Jack can be found in the District 8 Commons, quietly humming to himself as he retrieves food from the fridge -- some fruit to snack on -- and sets it aside onto a nearby counter. He's busy picking out an accompanying drink, taking his time selecting what he's in the mood for, when there's a flash of color at the corner of his eye and a scratchy screech that sounds suspiciously like words: "Avast matey! Shiver me timbers!"

The pirate freezes, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, then he catches sight of the bird as it flies low into the kitchen area. It lands atop one of the counters near his food with a scrabble of its feet, flapping its wings and shuffling its feathers back into place, then fixes him with a belligerent stare. Sure, he'd given it free reign out of its cage since it'd shown up, but Jack had been otherwise careful to avoid the bird's presence as much as physically possible. Even if someone had given him it as a present, he didn't much care for the responsibility.

He waves both hands at it, lips curled with annoyance. "... Shoo. Go away." It doesn't pay any heed to his movements but instead, still glancing over in his direction every once in awhile, hobbles closer to his bowl of fruit and stretches its neck to peek at what's inside. Jack swishes his hands at it again, this time more vigorously, not wanting to get too close to that large, sharp beak that it has. "Leave it! Shoo, damn you!"

The feathers on its neck stand up in defiance, but the bird doesn't look like it will listen -- it's way more interested in the food. And surely enough, a few seconds later, the bowl will topple over onto the floor and loudly spill out its contents onto the ground. The bird puffs up to flap its wings, then makes the leap down to the floor to begin picking at some stray grapes.

"Oi! OI!" The words from Jack are a clipped shout, and the pirate moves to the mess with a grimace and his hands splayed. Anyone who happens into the room will be greeted with the sight, and most likely a couple more squawked phrases from the bird.


(B. Tribute Tower Central Commons.)

The bird needed to go.

It'd tried -- multiple times, as if it'd been trained specifically to do this -- to land on his shoulder, and each time the pirate had nimbly dodged its attempt. A few times it'd managed to scrape its claws against his arm, wings beating against Jack's face, but had mostly been unsuccessful in achieving what it wanted. So after awhile the parrot had taken to following him everywhere with small jumping steps -- around the suites, into the elevators, through the Tower's Central Commons. And that's where Jack had led it, this time, using its obsession to draw it out of the D8 Suites and into the bustling lobby area of the Commons.

He'd gotten it as far as the entrance leading outside, one hand propping a door open and the other wildly motioning for the bird to leave, but it doesn't budge. "Look, bird, freedom! Escape!" And then, muttered sorely beneath his breath, "Come on, you brassy, overly ornate chicken."

Instead of taking to its new freedom, the bird hungrily eyes his shoulder and bobs its head, ignoring the trickle of people trying to nudge past this stand-off and to the exit. Jack isn't paying much attention to who's trying to get past, either, and stretches his boot out to try and gently push at the bird, encouraging it to get outside.

It hops back a few steps back with its wings flared, cocking its head sideways to look up at him, then cracks open its beak to warn him that it's about ready to bite. Then its mouth works, and it calls out, "Cut your -- heart out. You slimee -- squawk -- cur. Sod you!" It wouldn't be too hard to guess where it'd learned that.


(C. Any other prompts you want to do -- out and about, with or without the bird!)

Comments

B

[knittingbackwards]

"Oh, dear." The bruising around Merlyn's nose is starting to go down, although he's still sporting a rather dramatic black eye, but his voice is decidedly nasal nonetheless. His sinuses took a bit of a beating. He stops in the doorway, rather laboriously getting to one knee, and holds one arm out for the parrot to run up. "Come along, do. You're causing a scene. Does no-one in this by-our-lady place have anything better to do than teach birds to curse in English?" he adds, apparently to the world in general. "As if it isn't bad enough that so many of them are foul-mouthed already. Then again, I suppose new languages are a mind-expanding experience. Come along, I say," he adds rather sharply to the parrot, coaxing it up onto his shoulder, and tries, with limited success, to straighten back up. His joints are playing merry hell with him, these days.

As he pushes himself up, steadying himself against the wall, he levels a stare at Jack. The impact is lessened a little by the black eye, but it's still rather impressively schoolmasterly. "As for you, my dear fellow, you should know that he's no more a chicken than you are a whale. Show a little courtesy in future. Gallus and Ara are scarcely even related."

[drinkupmehearties]

The parrot's reaction to Merlyn's outstretched arm looks almost instinctual, after only a brief hesitant pause spun from natural caution; it braces itself on the man's sleeve with the top of its beak and climbs on with its feet, then scurries to Merlyn's shoulder to nestle. As it settles in, the bird reaches its head over to nibble lightly on a nearby stray gray hair, idly playing with the strand in its beak as it eyes the pirate.

Jack, on the other hand, watches with slightly narrowed, incredulous eyes. He's taken aback by the bruises that mottle the old man's skin, too, his gaze lingering a touch on that shiner coloring the man's eye. What'd he done to deserve that?

But despite the appearance, the look Merlyn fixes onto him is enough to make him want to crawl away and hang his head. He looks like someone who could give him a scolding only the likes of Teague could give him, and it makes Jack involuntarily fidget.

In an effort to combat that, his upper lip twitches and curls into a placating half-smile. "What do you mean? Courtesy's what all I've given the beast, eh?" He swishes a hand to indicate the door. "See? I've even done it the kindness of offering it freedom."

Clearly that was good enough. And seemingly to punctuate his point, the parrot drops the thread of hair to proudly proclaim: "Damn -- mangy. Mangy sod. Squawk!"

[knittingbackwards]

"Him," Merlyn corrects the pirate almost absently, and reaches up to stroke the bird's head. "Though you can be forgiven for not knowing that. Macaws are hardly the easiest birds to sex." He rubs his wrist absent-mindedly - it's still rather swollen under the traitor's cuff the Peacekeepers put on it, and the bird's claws dug into it painfully when it climbed - and looks up at the sky.

"As for freedom," he says at length, stepping back from the door to let a couple of Capitolites through, "it's remarkable how difficult it is to recognise, when one is raised in a cage. Well-documented phenomenon, you know. I doubt the poor bird has ever been outside more than a day in his life. Why, you need only look at the company we keep here to know how easily three square meals and some pretty baubles can do away with any wish for flight." Never the most subtle in his critiques, he accentuates this last with a pointed glare at the Capitolites who just entered, before looking back at the macaw. "And as for you, well! That's hardly any way to start out a new language! You ought to be ashamed."

[drinkupmehearties]

The bird presses into Merlyn's touch, head tilted sideways, one eye slowly blinking as it starts to brux in enjoyment. It chatters quietly as well, oblivious to the old man's disapproval, but they're more unintelligible snippets of noise deep in its throat than actual recognizable words this time.

"Aye. Sure enough, I've heard of such a thing. It's a pity." In a way, even prior to Meryln's remarks, the parallel between Tributes and the bird hadn't quite escaped him. The Capitolites treated Tributes much like they treated any of their pets or beasts of burden -- overly pampered and fussed over, but never in the right ways. And it struck a chord with him in a way that was distantly uncomfortable, as Jack had increasingly found himself content with a roof over his head and booze in his belly in between Arenas. He'd seen it in the past, too, back home, with slaves who'd become so used to their lot in life that they'd become complacent with their captivity.

However, he's more concerned with being involuntarily saddled with the beast, and the pirate stifles a grimace. "Wouldn't be a great shock if it hadn't, damned thing. The cage it -- " A stilted pause, then the pirate corrects himself. " -- He arrived in were nothing short of ridiculously gaudy and obtrusive." It took up a good portion of his room for gods' sake.

And then, almost if to avoid more of Merlyn's reproval, Jack adds smoothly, "Don't know what was in their head, the one who gave him to me, to teach him such foul things."

[knittingbackwards]

"Hmph," Merlyn opines, still idly petting the bird. "I would suggest doing away with the cage entirely, if you can. It isn't good for a body to be stuck indoors all the time. Teach him some better language, and he might not be bad company. I would offer to take him off your hands myself, if it weren't for..." He looks down at his beard, now empty of its bird's nest, and sighs, pausing in petting the macaw to dab at his eyes, clearly quite affected. "Well. I don't particularly trust myself as a caretaker of late. In any case, if he won't accept freedom, you may just have to teach him better. He isn't a stupid bird, I suspect. He can learn."

B.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland is not one of the people trying to get past - not anymore anyway. Instead he's standing back and watching, eyebrows raised, and after a second of that he steps forward, drawing a half-knitted probably-a-scarf out from one of his pockets and starting to wind it tightly around a forearm. "Been a while since I've seen an animal who could curse at a man so handily. What are you trying to do with it?"

Then Roland holds his forearm out toward the bird - layers of yarn may not cut it if this works, depending on whether that bird's claws are more or less blunt and trimmed than they look, but it might be better than nothing - and clicks his tongue at it, the noise Roland used to make to call the falcons as a boy coming back to him easily. If this doesn't work, maybe he ought to try cursing back at it to get it to come to him. Hell, you never know what someone's trained an animal like this to respond to.

[drinkupmehearties]

It doesn't take much to coax the bird onto the man's arm -- it wobbles back and forth on both feet for a few seconds, indecisive, then cranes its head forward to help itself onto the offered limb using both its beak and feet, climbing with practiced ease. However, if Roland expected it to stay in one place, he'd be disappointed. It'll continue its journey up his arm, using its large beak as an aid, attempting to reach his shoulders.

Thankfully, its talons weren't nearly as sharp as a falcon's would have been, having been trimmed only about a week ago. Though, he'll still feel the sharp pressure as its claws dig through cloth and into flesh.

In the meanwhile, the sound of Roland's voice turns Jack's head, and the pirate immediately recognizes him from their little adventure back in the Arena. "I'm freein' it. Figured it'd rather fly than spend its days inside." And, of course, in actuality, Jack wanted to be rid of it.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland doesn't cringe at the pressure of those - thankfully, trimmed - claws. This, too, reminds him of David perching on his arm all those years ago, although David had been a little lighter and had never shown any inclination to climb. Roland ducks through the doorway and stands outside, looking first at the sky, then the bird standing on his shoulder. It might take off, he supposes. Any second now.

"Thoroughly trained animals can sometimes forget what it is to be free. And pampered ones may well decide captivity suits them better." For a second, Roland peers up at the building in front of them, eyebrows raised. He does not say that, if either of those things is the case, this building full of 'tributes' may well be the perfect place for the creature. He is, however, absolutely thinking it.

"Unless this thing changes its mind in a second," he adds, lifting his arm and the shoulder the bird's perched on a little higher toward the sky, "you may be stuck with it a while. I thought sailors often kept pets like this, company for the long days at sea. Are you very determined to get rid of it?"

[drinkupmehearties]

The pirate moves to join Roland outside, quietly hoping that the bird will take off now that it could see the wide, open sky yawning above them. However, both the man's movement and the sudden open air goes unnoticed; the bird looks more than content to stay perched on Roland's shoulder, giving only a cursory glance to its new surroundings as it settles in further.

"Some of 'em, perhaps. I never cared for it, though I've known many a man that did." Hector had kept his Capuchins, of course, and Cotton had similarly owned a macaw. Jack, however, had been content to never keep animals as anything but cargo on his ships. Growing up with Teague's mutt -- or mutts, as surely a dog couldn't live as long as that scraggly stray had -- was enough for him.

"As much as I'd like to, the beast seems intent on stickin' around."

A

[foundafamily]

There's another surprise cooking for Jack, though thankfully it's not a living one. Firo promised him a real pizza a little while ago, so a real pizza he will have. It's just finishing baking in the oven and Firo's returning to check on it when he sees Jack locked in struggle with his animal friend. Or foe.

He stops in the doorway as he surveys the scene, tensed to act as soon as he figures out what the heck's going on. He's never seen a pigeon that colorful, but from the way it's acting, he figures it's safe to assume that this thing is a pest just the same.

"How the hell did somethin' like that get in here?"

He searches around for something large and heavy to hit it with, eventually grabbing a good-size serving spoon and holding it ready to try and prod the bird away. Don't worry, Jack, he's got your back.

[drinkupmehearties]

The macaw doesn't appear to notice Firo immediately, concerned mostly with the fruit its devouring. It's only when the spoon comes out near it that the bird switches its gaze to Firo, sharply eyeing him at first, then dropping the half-eaten grape to protectively flare its chest up and crack its beak open at the spoon, a gesture meant to be threatening.

With the bird's attention diverted, Jack kneels down to scoop the fruit away from it and back into the bowl. He sends a glance to Firo at the question. "It was a gift, from a 'fan'." The pirate waves a hand vaguely in the direction of his room. "Y'should see the cage the blasted thing has, takes up nearly me entire room."

[foundafamily]

Firo frowns at the bird and gives it his best Martillo capo glare. Which probably isn't much more threatening than what the bird's doing, so he couples it with another wave of the spoon.

He looks up from tormenting the bird. "A gift? Seriously? Just seems like a huge pain." What else could he expected from the Capitol, though?

A cage in a cage. Firo bit his tongue to keep from mentioning how oddly fitting it was. "What do they expect you to do with that, huh?"

[drinkupmehearties]

The parrot returns the glare with its own beady-eyed stare, then lunges forward to try and clamp its beak onto the spoon. At the same time the bird rumbles deep in its throat, "Avast -- landlubber! Avast!"

Gods. The parrot might as well be Will spewing out those stupid phrases, and Jack gives a half-lidded eyeroll at it. Ridiculous.

"Aye. From a Capitolite." Which, coupled with the flat look on Jack's face, is telling enough. No surprise at all that one of them would dump this sort of thing onto him and assume he'd enjoy it. He sets the bowl onto the counter and returns near Firo to help drive it off with a soft nudge of his boot, causing the bird to hobble backwards and flap its wings.

"I haven't the faintest idea. Walk about with it on me shoulder, mayhaps? I didn't ask for it, that's for certain."

B

[conifer]

Emily had always been a little envious of birds, ever since she'd been a child scaring them out of trees that they'd needed to cut down, watching them fly up into the air and disappear from sight, away from the Districts and the Peacekeepers without even a second thought for the nation below them. This bird was far bigger and more colourful than the ones of the northern forests of Seven, but the same principle applied. She looks curious as she approaches, attempting to poke at the bird to get it to fly away.

"You'd think he'd be glad of the chance to get out of here."

[drinkupmehearties]

The bird hops a couple steps away from Emily as she tries to poke it, bobbing its head, folded wings held out as it stands its ground in the middle of the busy entrance way. A low noise rumbles in its throat, ending in a sharp, shrill squawk.

Jack's gaze flashes up to her, briefly, and the smile that crosses his face is quick. "Aye, you'd think it, wouldn't you. Here I am, offerin' it freedom, but it doesn't appear too keen on the idea." He attempts to nudge at it with his boot, again, and this time the bird leaps forward to latch onto the toe of his shoe and bite down. "Oi!"

[conifer]

She winces as the bird clamps its beak around Jack's shoe, wanting to stop it but also not wanting to get to close in case it bites her too, and settles for banging on the door loudly in an attempt to startle it away.

"There is another solution, of course. Although I'm not sure how good parrot pie would taste."

[drinkupmehearties]

Thankfully, the bite manages to pierce his shoe in the space where his toes aren't -- otherwise it would've been an incredibly painful ordeal. The loud noise she makes works, however, and the parrot immediately unlatches from his boot and puffs up in defense.

Amusement glints in his eyes at the unexpected suggestion that she makes, and Jack cocks his head to regard the bird with a critical eye. "Parrot pie, eh? That's an idea. I'd wager that wouldn't be all too bad, perhaps, to make sure, we'd have to season it with salt and spices and such." The corner of his mouth edges into a smile. "With that said, I don't think whichever Capitolite sent the beast to me would appreciate the thought. Alas."

A

[cigne]

When Swann walks into the Suite, it's without her pets, but with a distinct waft of camphor around her. She pauses just outside of the elevator doors, watching Jack with a blink of confusion, but then the bird catches her attention and she gasps, clasping her hands together and scurrying towards them.

"Oh, Jack, he's beautiful," she says, depositing her bag on the kitchen table as she flutters over to the bird. She bends over and takes a grape, offering it to the parrot, and glances at Jack. "What's his name?"

To the bird, she murmurs, "Yes, pretty bird, hello baby. You're so pretty, aren't you?"

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack had been so involved in what trouble the bird was causing that he doesn't notice Swann until she's flittering over to them both and talking. His first reaction is to quickly step back, away, not wanting to get between the bird and its prized food.

"Name?" He repeats absently, watching as the bird sizes up Swann and the offered grape. After a few ticks of hesitation, it gingerly stretches its head out to snatch the fruit from her hand, beak working to turn it over and over and strip the skin from the grape. "Haven't cared to name the beast yet."

In the meanwhile, the feathers on the bird's neck fluff and raise as Swann coos at it, clearly enjoying the attention. It even murmurs a quiet "pretty bird, pretty bird" in response to her words, muffled by the food in its mouth.

[cigne]

"Yes, a name! All pets need names, how else will you call it?"

As it eats, Swann reaches out delicately, extending one finger to tentatively stroke the bird's neck and head, ready to yank her arm back if it's jumpy or snaps at her. "Aw, yes you are, baby, aren't you? What a pretty bird, a good boy."

She peers back up at Jack from her crouched position. "There are lots of names for birds, parrots especially! All sorts of pirate-y things, really."

[drinkupmehearties]

"That's easy enough, it already has a name. Call it bird." He swishes a hand at it. "Or just shout and point in its general direction. Seems to have worked thus far." This is clearly a simple solution, no need to bring actual names into the mix.

As Swann reaches out, the parrot freezes in chewing on the grape and fixes its gaze onto her, the feathers on its neck smoothing down as it tenses. However, Swann's baby-talking appears to eventually win it over, and when her fingers make contact with its head the bird continues on eating its grape, allowing her to pet it as it murmurs to itself.

"'Pirate-y things'? Like what?"

A

[reallynow]

Being tired is something Jolie is frequently lately, but it's also not something she has room for on the itinerary. It's kind of an endless cycle of things being alright, then bad, then awful and then there's an unholy amount of work to bury into. Even so, Sleepgate has managed to be avoided for the most part, even if Jolie is more moody and dour than usual.

It's been a while since she's had the patience to find much funny, which is strange but not unheard of for someone with a temper like hers. She doesn't expect much from hearing Jack yelling in the kitchen, but curiosity leads her out to watch whatever he's doing anyway. Her lips are pressed in a thin line, brows furrowed and slowly raising as she soaks in the scene before her. In a few seconds she's laughing. Loud. It's the most inelegant, unladylike laugh in the entire world. It's all hoarse and cartoonish and Jolie is damn near doubled over, pressed against the wall for support as she points exuberantly at Jack.

"It's a fucking BIRD. You got a fucking BIRD. Oh god- I can't breathe- a bird. HA! That's hilarious." Most of those words form a run-together sentence between bouts of laughter.

[drinkupmehearties]

At the moment, the two are locked in a fierce standoff. The parrot has its brightly-colored wings folded tight against its sides but its shoulders puffed out, hopping from one leg to another and warbling as it tries to intimidate Jack into backing off. In the meanwhile, the pirate is trying to scare it away by rapidly swishing his hands at it in wide arcs -- which is clearly not working.

It's Jolie's loud laugh that breaks this scene up; Jack's head turns at the sound, and the bird leaps forward in that instant to scoop a grape into its beak and flap a step backwards with its prize.

He shoots her a not-entirely-serious glare, maybe even a pout, because Jolie this is clearly serious business and entirely nothing to laugh about.

"Oi, o' course it's a bird. What're you laughing at?"

As if to punctuate his words, the bird adds with a high-pitched squawk: "AVAST MATEY!"

[reallynow]

This is the kind of crap you can't pay for, alright. You can blow big money on tickets to see some bitches dance, or you can stand in the kitchen of your workplace and watch a parrot and a pirate battle for dominance.

It's becoming abundantly clear that Jack is losing this fight, which only makes it funnier. The laughter takes a while to subside so Jolie can properly answer, still braced against the wall from exertion.

"You're fighting with a bird." She points out, like the hilarity here should be as plain as day. "Is it... is it talking? Like a pirate?" She steps closer, a little warily given the bird's demeanor, but eventually she's standing alongside Jack and trying desperately not to fall into further hysterics. "This is too much. I'm done."

[drinkupmehearties]

No doubt about it, the situation would be hilarious if it were someone else that had to deal with an ornery, loud, food-stealing bird. But it's his problem, and it's a problem with a big, sharp, scary beak that's following him around to bug him, so the hilarity is mostly lost on him. He rolls his eyes at her, trying not to pout further at her laughing.

"Aye. Someone got it in their head to teach it a bunch of -- " He swishes his hands around. " -- 'pirate-y' things. And give it that hat."

As Jolie nears them both the parrot halts and fixes a stare at her, then sidles in close to grab another grape and slip backwards again. "And it stole me food." He's so offended at the audacity of this bird.