Hayley Radcliffe is strictly hands-off (glovedup) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-04-18 21:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | rogue |
Who: Hayley and a Peacock
What: First Meetings
Where: Monarch Industries Arboretum
When: After This
Warnings: No animals were harmed in the making of this segment of "Why Hayley Can't Have Nice Things."
The note and envelope in hand, Hayley hurried to the arboretum. Orin Monarch wouldn't have left her certification of peacock ownership without providing a peacock, and this was the only place he could have put it without someone calling animal control. Heart pounding in her chest, she fumbled with the door, suddenly baffled by the concept of handles. After a few failed attempts that ended in high-pitched squeals of frustration and hitting the door with the papers, she finally managed to see herself inside.
Her hands were shaking at her sides, and she felt that her mouth had gone dry. She knew that her boss was insane, but this was just something else. Peacocks were living, breathing animals. And this one, it seemed, was the top of the heap: disease-free, hand-raised, the sort any exotic bird lover would kill for. And he'd given it to her. Hayley Radcliffe, who could barely be trusted around plants, now had to care for something she knew absolutely nothing about. What did peacocks eat? Where did they sleep? How would she clean up after it? All the questions nearly burst her skull into a thousand pieces as she took slow, nervous steps through the arboretum as if she were tip-toeing through Jurassic Park.
Gripping her phone in her left hand - she'd used it to fire off confused texts and an e-mail on her way down - she looked around, green eyes wide, for any sign of movement. The animal was probably blending in with all the greenery around her: what if she never found it? What if it died or ran away? She hadn't even seen the creature, and already she was imagining its corpse, trying to explain to Mr. Monarch why or how she'd manage to kill his inappropriate gift while avoiding the urge to tell him that it was his fault for buying it. She didn't even realize she was chewing on her lower lip as she crept along, peering about as she made her way towards the gazebo.
A quick movement caught her eye, and she froze, half-hidden behind a young sapling as she stared at the gazebo. Standing on one of the benches, head erect, was a peacock. She'd made up a mental image of it in her head, but the real deal was nothing like her imagination. There was something majestic about him, something that made her breath stop in her chest. Standing stock still, she just stared as the bird walked to the edge of the bench, his long tail feathers draping to the ground, before hopping down to the floor of the gazebo. His head bobbed as he walked, taking slow, methodical steps. It was almost as if he were checking out the area, looking to see everything there was to see. He stood on the steps of the gazebo, tilting his head until she could see the shine of his left eye.
Seconds passed as they stared at one another. Hayley's grip tightened around her phone as she started to take a step backwards, biting down on her lower lip to try and contain the apprehension she felt. Just as she was about to make a clean escape, the phone in her hand let out a chime. Normally, it was at a soft, reasonable volume. But in the deathly quiet arboretum, it sounded like a rock concert in stereo. "Shit!" she hissed, snapping the device open to try and silence it - but it was too late. The peacock moved down the stairs, pausing at the bottom to flutter its wings. Holding out a hand, she moved backwards, shaking her head. "Nice bird," she said soothingly, turning off her phone. "Good bird. Stay there."
The peacock let out a sharp cry that outdid even her phone's alert. Hayley shrieked, clapping a hand over her ear as she stumbled backwards. "Shit! Shit shit-" She shuffled along the path back towards the door, still facing the bird as it steadily followed her. Though its pace was steady and methodical, to her it might as well have been barreling through the undergrowth. "Stop it, bird! Go away! Shoo!" Looking frantically to the door as if she were being chased by a velociraptor, she just had a few yards to go. It looked like she was going to beat it - then she felt her foot snag.
She fell heavily on her side, the loud thud echoing through the arboretum. Wheezing, she just stared at the ground for a few seconds, the breath effectively gone from her lungs. She closed her eyes, letting out a low groan as she shoved her phone into the pocket of her jacket, pressing her hands against the ground and slowly pushing herself up to sit. With a hand against her head, she opened her eyes, looking about woozily. She scanned the arboretum, hoping that her fall had frightened the peacock off.
It was standing right next to her.
Shrieking, she skittered backwards. It let out another cry, fluttering its wings before walking after her. Dragging her bottom over the ground, she backed into a tree, feeling the thin trunk drive into her back. She leaned back into it, sitting stock still as the creature approached. It was slow and steady, like always, though it turned its head from side to side with a strange air of curiosity. Horrified of the noise it made, she stayed quiet, even as it came close enough to touch. She felt its tail feathers brush over her leg, and suddenly all she could think of was the look on Mr. Monarch's face if she drained his gift to death in the middle of his tree sanctuary. But she was too frightened to move, rooted to the spot.
The bird just stared at her for the longest time, taking short and careful steps forward until its chest touched her clothed arm. She kept her head facing forward, only her eyes daring to follow its movements as it leaned closer, turning its head from side to side as if inspecting her. The closer it drew to her face, the faster her heart began to race. "Please," she whispered, too soft to startle the animal. "Go away." It didn't seem to be in a listening mood: it came closer, the tip of its beak threatening to touch. And then it did.
She let out a small sound of distress, closing her eyes tightly and expecting the worst. But it never came. Eyes opening, she looked down at the bird curiously. Why hadn't she drained him? He'd touched her, hadn't he? But there he was, just staring at her. For some strange reason, she started to feel silly. "You're okay," she said softly, very slowly raising her hand from the ground at her side. He stared at her hand curiously as she reached out, slowly and gently. She didn't dare remove her glove, but this would be enough. The bird stood still as she brushed her fingertips over the feathers of his chest, hesitant and soft. The anxiety building up inside of her slowly released, bringing a smile to her face. "You're okay," she repeated. The bird just stared at her for a few seconds before ruffling his feathers, waggling his wings and rustling his tail. She felt chided.
The bird took a few steps backwards, bobbing his head and neck all the while. Then he paused, staring at her again, before letting out another cry. Wrinkling her nose, Hayley clapped one hand over her ear. "Can't you use your inside voice?" she asked, as if she'd get a response. He looked at her for another moment before flapping his wings, releasing another cry for good measure. And then, before she could say another word, he turned to the side and began to walk back towards the gazebo.
Had she just passed some sort of test? Pulling her phone from her pocket, she looked at her latest text. With a sigh, she watched the receding bird's back with a small half-smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He was pretty cool, for a glorified chicken.