Thread: 🌻 Pass The Clara ✨ | On Hiatus

I've returned, and with a transcription to share with you all! Clara's week in my coop was more or less uneventful, save for one special incident...

One week ago, Clara found herself at the gates of a busy little town. Nobody around knew her, although she could pick out a couple of familiar faces. While she was given a few greetings upon her arrival, the longer she sauntered around town, the quieter it got, until it appeared more like a ghost town. Something about her presence set many chooks at unease, especially a certain hen. Gossip spread like wildfire here, it seemed. While Clara wandered the streets, Daisy and her little ragtag council of chickens spied on her from afar. Something was off about this hen...

"Now, you all know it isn't right to judge a book by its cover..." Daisy started, but was quickly cut off by Strawberry Milk:

"I know that darn well, but I'm not fibbing when I tell you that that chicken spells trouble! I can feel it in my gut when I meet a chicken with bad intentions, and that bird is setting off every alarm bell in my head!"

"But Strawb, dear, you haven't met them..."

"I know, but... well, in some strange way... I feel like I have."

Daisy sighed and just looked at Strawberry Milk with concern, while the rest of the group muttered among themselves. She knew Strawb would never lie about something like this, and the unsettling air this stranger carried with them was undeniable, but just what did it all mean? Before she could speak again, she was interrupted by Nevermind, who was peering back out at the street. In his usual monotone, he clucked, "Hey... where'd they go?"

Pathetic, boring little mortals, Clara scoffed as she strutted down the sidewalk. There was not much fun to be had here. At least it'd be a nice break away from all the fuss of the past coops -- "AAH!"

With a sudden bump and a thud, she now found herself on the ground. How could she have not noticed the bumbling blue hen also on the ground in front of her? Wait... what? How peculiar...

"A-ah, oh no, I'm so sorry! I was sweeping the sidewalk, and I must have been too focused, and didn't see you... oh, where are my glasses?..." the hen fumbled on the ground, searching for her missing lenses. Not once did she look up to see who she was talking to.

Fascinating, this one has no fear... Clara noticed the round glasses sitting at her feet. Maybe she could make a good impression, and be shown a little respect around here. Carefully, she picked up the lenses and tapped the hen on the shoulder. "It's no trouble! Accidents happen. Just watch where you're going next time." Clara straightened her posture and brushed the dust off of her hocks, slightly annoyed, but not showing it. "And what might your name be?"

"Oh, ah, thank you!" The hen slid her glasses back on and tucked them into her feathers. She nudged the bridge up on her beak and timidly looked at Clara for the first time. "Thank you. My name is Mop. I help keep the town clean, which is why I was sweeping this sidewalk here..." As if she had only just remembered what she was doing, she gasped and looked around for the fallen broom.

She's seen me, and she's still not afraid. Doesn't she sense my presence? My power? Color her intrigued. "What do you mortals do for recreation around here, anyway?"

"Uh... recreation? Oh, you must be new around here! Well, hm... there's a diner nearby where we could go and get some milkshakes! Ooh, I just love them!" Mop's demeanor began to shift from bashful to bold. She spoke with a twinkle in her eye -- though it was hard to notice behind all the feathers.

More sweets, whoopee...

The pair spent all afternoon at the diner. While Mop nursed a shake and excitedly chatted about her family, friends, and your run-of-the-mill small town gossip, Clara just listened and nodded along. This funny little chicken was almost endearing, but Clara found herself wishing she'd go back to being shy. Nonetheless, she was amused. As Daisy and co. continued searching for Clara, the pair spent the rest of the day together, and with nowhere else to go, she nested with Mop that night. Come morning, they woke to find a strangely heavy egg with a pungent, rotten smell to it. Mop insisted that she would tend to the nest anyway; so while she incubated the egg, Clara left to explore the town. She met a few of its inhabitants, scared a few others, and even exchanged pleasantries with a hen who reminded her of one of her current tributes. As the week went on, however, strange happenings began to occur in the town. An uneasy atmosphere laid thick over the flock as each garden swiftly overgrew with weeds and thorns. Everyone was a little less cheery, and tensions rose among the pecking order. Clara's presence was starting to have a noticeable impact... she wouldn't be able to stay much longer.

After a few more days, it seemed likely that the egg was not going to hatch. Disappointed, Mop prepared to dispose of it; but just as she had lost hope, she heard a little "peep" come from inside! Overjoyed, she continued to sit, until finally, the newest flock member arrived...

Mop might have a little explaining to do to Daisy...

Clara seemed indifferent towards baby Sweep. It didn't seem to care much -- it was content to follow Mop all around the coop and help her with chores. They seem to carry a strange, unknown power with them... but all they can do with it for now is make flowers prematurely bloom and unsettle other chickens. It's a bit mischievous, and as they grew up, they became good pals with its older brother, Dust.

#26799 Sweep

chicken

3 months • ZZ

One week later, Clara says goodbye to my coop. Actually, she left without a word. Almost immediately, the air begins to clear; the pressure that was rapidly building up is suddenly released, and things begin to return to normal. The weeds wither away, and friendships are mended. All the resident chickens are scratching their heads, wondering who that mysterious, frightening drifter was. Mop, too, wonders to herself about the past week as she looks down at her little Sweep. Chickens come and go, I suppose.

Word on the street is that one little hen saw Clara heading towards @LvEx's coop... (also apologies for holding onto her an extra day, I was reminded and I...still forgot to make a post yesterday my coop nearly burst at the seams for it!)

clara has reached the forgotten shores of an isolated lake... her activities will be documented by our local detective!

Clara has reached the end of her journey in our coop... let's see what she got up to.

Upon arriving at the mysterious lake, the air changes-- from dreary to almost electric, charged in a way that often follows Clara. Like the feeling right before a lightning strike, the pause before a fight breaks out, and the vertigo of standing on the edge of a cliff. It’s a feeling that would send most chicks running and hens otherwise clutching their pearls. There would be no doubt about it; this new arrival is dangerous.

Which makes it all the more strange when she garners almost no attention.

Though a small community, Clara can easily see some emo-esque chicks plucking away on some instruments, a few others swimming in water teeming with curses, and-- ah, yes, the ghostly detective looking her dead in the eyes as he scratches on his notepad. He pauses for one reason or another, and Clara takes the moment to tilt her head at him, making him scribble faster; no doubt the words on that page being nothing more than chicken scratch.

She turns, and as she does, she feels the tell-tale prickle of someone else staring at her. Narrowing her eyes, she scans the shore of the lake, looking, looking, looking… there. Almost as if staring into a distorted mirror, edges wisping in the wind, stands a sad imitation of what would be her brother, if she still considered those she spawned from as family.

With a blink, the rooster is in front of her, not unlike a cheap jumpscare. It makes Clara want to almost roll her eyes, but before she can, her brother starts whispering things that would be indescribable to the normal ear. To her, however, it is just a request to visit their parents, and judging by the way the wisps of him curl around her, it would be more effort than what would be worth it to resist.

And so, she goes.

Bayek and Aya are teary eyed when they arrive, fussing over her ruffled feathers before checking up on… really, his name is Burnt Kernel? She hopes that was self-inflicted, considering how accurate it is. Aya gives an update to what’s happened since she’s been “roaming the world” (don’t care), Bayek asks how she’s been (none of their business), and they both express how happy they are that she’s alright (that’s… hm.). As the sun passes its peak, Bayek gives her a small snack pack and sends her on her way, Burnt Kernel deciding to stay there.

After that disaster, Clara’s return to the lakeshore is quiet. Curious about the cursed lake, she trots forwards until she is standing at the edge of the water. The water is murky and stagnant, but curiously devoid of moss or bugs, or other signs that would indicate it as such. In fact, other than the sounds of the other chickens here, there aren't any sounds of anything. No wind, or creatures, or even water. A curious place, this is.

Knowing herself unaffected by whatever curse touches the waters, she brushes the tip of her wing in. The water ripples as expected, but as she takes a half step back, it continues to ripple more and more, growing until it looks to be an isolated wave, almost half her size. The wave glows a deep red, and then a light pink, until the normal greyish blue fades back in, leaving the pink color only at the center.

At last, the wave falls back down, calming the waters once more as it leaves behind a single… chick?

“Oh, a new one.” A hen Clara had not seen approach, looking fondly at the new chick, comments. It glances up, seeing her, and says, “Not you, of course… The soulless can’t be anchored with the rest of us.”

With that, it swims onto the waters, leaving not a ripple, as if passing as a ghost. It gathers the newly chirping chick underneath its wing, and having the audacity to ignore Clara again, it swims towards the emo group of chickens she’d noticed when she’d first arrived (who seem to be taking turns trying to do a kickflip on a piece of driftwood).

Deciding she’s had enough time spent here, and needing to get rid of the icky feeling of family (disgusting, really), she decides to take her leave. Curious once more, she takes a peak at the detective’s notes on the way out, and notices halfway through his first sentence, he’d gotten distracted and started doodling swirls.

With that, her next stop determines to be @Wildflower75...

Just as Clara leaves her ""family"" (eugh, that doesn't get easier to say, let alone think) she finds a discreet grassy spot and proceeds to grow a couple of her "family's" favourite flowers.

She starts with her mother's favourite flame tree as the main showpiece, accelerating its growth so it stands tall and proud. Its shadow providing shade for any visiting chook, and shielding the house which her family resides in.

Next, she surrounds the base of the tree with an assortment of birds of paradise (her father), lychnis (Burnt Kernel), and sunflowers (Khemu), as well as some evergreen shrubs to break up the colours tastefully

The task is done relatively quick, and she unconsciously smiles at her work as she traces the petal of a sunflower with a wingtip idly. The plants even seem to glow with its master's happiness.

However, when she notices the upwards tug of her lips, she shakes her head vigorously, breaking the trance.

F*** she's getting soft again.

Clara huffs a frustrated breath, looks around to see if anyone had seen her before quickly making an escape.

Allegro is struggling to stay on top of his cases, but will be up to write a bit of a report in the future (tomorrow).. because oh boy it was a visit. Especially for our favorite detective himself!

In the meantime, Clara has decided she's had enough of this place, with its distractible inhabitants, and is heading off in the direction of @MouseDemon...

[Don't mind this not being so RP-oriented. I get too nervous writing someone else's character unless I've read like 3 books worth of dialogue plus extra outside content. xD I may edit in some things. I had some other stuff in mind but had been too swamped lately.]

Clara arrived at a Literal Household, a normal house full of chickens. Sponge and Sink the unofficial leaders welcomed her.

Clara seemed to take interest in Swiss Army Knife... or perhaps she was only interested in their weapons. Only Clara knows.

#10254 Swiss Army Knife

MouseDemon

7 months • ZW

And so Clara nested with a swiss army knife and hatched a whole fireplace as one does.

#29380 Fireplace

MouseDemon

3 months • ZZ

On the last day at the Literal Household, Clara and some other chickens began... to sprout?

Most chickens were confused and searched for answers, but Clara didn't stick around. These peasant chicken problems were beneath her. She had more important things to do, like sending tributes to their deaths.

Starting this game again while I'm on my trip so y'all can entertain yourselves

Just sent her off to @Arthur_134's coop as I heard a certain aunty is trying to change her tastes...

omg would loveeee to be added to let her stay with me!!

@nimmy you have been added to the list! Your coop is no longer safe from Her

@RobinChimkin perfection

[PLACEHOLDER POST BC I AM TOO TIRED TO WRITE]

off to @chickrins coop!

"mm.....all that seafood has put me in the mind to see what that watery tribute's home looks like..."

Entering the coop, she looks around and catches the eye of a vaguely familiar chicken, perhaps this was the family that watery tribute once had...

Nevertheless, she finds herself drawn to the merchicken call- were all of them always this suave and charming?

[also a placeholder but i'll get to writing it soon!]

Before heading off to @honeylampzz's coop, Clara takes one last look at the blue merchicken and the two eggs left behind...

#37640 (unnamed)

chickrins

1 month • ZW

#38070 (unnamed)

chickrins

1 month • ZW

"Perhaps I shall take a gander at one of the other tributes' home coop..."

Venturing into the newfound coop it would not take long before Clara found herself catching the gaze, or rather glare, of a particularly unwelcoming purple chicken.

Taking a quick look around the rest of her current surroundings led her to believe she may be in for a terrible time with such miserable creatures, but perhaps this coop’s first resident would prove to be more hospitable?

Clara had been finding her stay thus far to be particularly unpleasant. The chuffed and purple chicken she found herself forced to share a roost with was unrelenting in his frigid stares and hostility. If only she were able to put him in his place, to raise thorns and vines to this creature foolish enough to affront a god, she lamented to herself.

But alas, she found that her powers had waned in this strange, miserable coop. How very odd and... unusual. Most importantly though, how terribly inconvenient.

Acutely aware of just how thin her patience had already run, she resolved to journey instead to another part of the coop altogether.

It did not take long for her to stumble upon a much friendlier face, a honey-coloured chicken who busied themself with planting flowers. They were quick to greet her, to show kindness and care to this apparent newcomer to their flock.

While Clara would normally find herself sickened by such sweetness and naivety, after enduring nothing but abrasiveness since her arrival, it was a most welcome change of pace. They chatted, made idle but pleasant conversation in the lush fields and underneath the sun’s warm glow.

And sure, Clara may have had to exaggerate a laugh or feign interest here or there. But in essence, it was nice. Entertaining such tepid tangents and ramblings, she could almost understand how one would find comfort in it.

Next to the rhododendrons, an egg had been laid. The proof of their very brief encounter, a single, fleeting moment of connection. A planted seed that had taken root, that would soon grow, to blossom, to ferment .

The flowers had wilted now, while blooming mere moments ago, the petals had so swiftly been drained of their colour. They grew dark, folding and collapsing against one another before the last of their strength gave out. They fell onto the breeze, only to be swept away and inevitably forgotten to time.

Clara, witnessing the garden of once beautiful flowers inexplicably begin to decay and rot, took that as her cue to leave. Her heart nearly aches, it yearns to cry out in pain as if the withering petals, stems, and leaves were her own decaying body. Yet it does not, nor does she. Save for a single second of mourning, she heeds the bad omen and makes haste. Perhaps, @chickenborg’s coop would hold greener pastures?