nysalogs | January catch-all

Entry tags:

January catch-all

Who: Clark Kent (

apricitous) & you!
What: Catch-All and some concern about the state of things
When: January
Where: largely Wyver
Warning(s): none so far

[ scouting for reporters | wyver | open]
[ While Clark's put up his message, he's also putting up a few flyers around town with the same basic content; while his focus is the refugee population, just for ease of communication, he's not opposed should any locals show any interest in helping. He obviously can't offer any money since it's not a business as of yet per se or anything but... if you see him, feel free to ask about it. ]

[deserters | outside of the city | open ]
[ There are things Clark can't do, but there are also things he can do, things that he can't not do when it comes right down to it... and one of those things is look out for people. Especially people who are desperately trying to avoid a conflict.

Clark goes there first, asks what they need, and at first he uses some of the funds from his dragon bounty, what was still there. It's after Christmas, so it was a little more scant than he'd like, but he makes up for it by eating less, sitting in the sun more; he'll cook portions for Jessica the same as usual but he can make do himself. Eventually, he does have to ask for money, but he'll run into the city and bring back just about anything. He's also taken to spending the occasional afternoon out there, though, patrolling from the sky or ground to take care of any natural threats that might be stalking the smaller settlements just in case... ]

[ home | wyver | open ]
[ If you happen to come by their house, you'll find Clark at one of three activities: attempting to write something on the current Wyver-Olympia conflict, trying to figure out how he can better siphon some of his paycheck into supplies, cooking the occasional bit of food, and working from a particular book given to him for Christmas as a present, muttering to himself in a strange language that your character almost certainly isn't familiar with. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He doesn't mind the quickness of the handshake; his own is simple and careful, certainly not a dead fish but the grasp is definitely not forceful either; Byerly might notice that despite his rather simple air of a workman, there's no callouses on his hands.

Clark, for his part, smiles in spite of himself and there's a playful lilt to his tone as he glances over his glasses frames at Byerly. ]

We haven't even had drinks yet, your Imperial Majesty. But I'll say you've got a very nice suit and a fetching smile, even if it's a bit smug.

[ That actually earns a blink of surprise. Unexpected. By wonders if he'll ever become used to this positively Betan attitude towards same-sex flirtation. Still, he recovers handily, responding with a cheerful: ]

I've been known to stop people in their tracks from a block away. You're clearly more resilient than most.

[ And then, with a wave of his fingers: ]

And By will suffice. Particularly in - [ The tilt of his head takes in the crowd of innocent Nysans who know nothing of interplanetary travel. ] Mixed company.

It's probably for the best. Wouldn't want me to get a case of the vapors mid interview.

[ Clark's smile is a flicker before he turns to the entrance to the place, reaching over to open the door. Nothing about being an Emperor; he's just polite.]

I'll use By then. And your'e welcome to call me Clark, of course. How was the rest of your day, By?

The rest of my day?

[ By arches his eyebrow as he ambles through the door. He moves like having Clark hold it for him is just his due. ]

Dear fellow, I just woke up. My day's just beginning. [ And then, flashing a pearly-white grin over at him - ] And thank you for buying me breakfast.

[ His breakfast is going to be purely liquid in form. ]

Night owl, huh? I've got a friend who's a night person. [ He shakes his head. ] I'm not sure if it was growing up on a farm or natural inclination, but I'm definitely the opposite side of the coin.

[ Clark gestures around the room, taking a look around before turning to By. ]

Table or bar?

A farm.

[ He says that with about the tone he'd use to say a sewer. Which is a rather absurd put-on, of course; By was fed and clothed using the minuscule proceeds from his family's serfs, grew up on the manor estate associated with that little corner of the Vorrutyer District. He certainly doesn't know how to plant a seed or birth a cow, but he didn't grow up the city dandy he fashioned himself into later in life. ]

And let's do a table. I do like the bar for the speed of alcohol delivery, but I'd sooner not be overheard. Just in case things become sensitive, hm?

[ Clark's generosity as a person extends pretty far. But insulting the farm, and by extension his parents, makes his smile a little tight and his eyes flicker pointedly to By. ]

Yes [ his voice, however, is unbothered ] a farm. My family's farm, home to fourteen generations of Kents before me. We grew corn.

[He makes sure of the protocol before getting them a booth, gesturing for By to pick the side he wants before he'll slide into the other side. ]

Let's hope things won't get too sensitive, right?

[ There's just a quick moment of speculative interest in return for that sharpness. By eyes Clark, rather transparently considering pushing the issue and making more fun of farm life and farm dirt. After a moment, though, he lets it drop, deciding that this conversation will likely be more rewarding than making the good Mr. Kent storm off in a rage. Though that would be fun to watch.

By slides into the booth in such a way that his back is to the wall, rather than to the door. ]

And why not? I like a conversation where things get raw. Otherwise, you're clearly not discussing anything of interest or consequence.

Raw and sensitive can be two different things. One could, say, compromise the security of your realm, whatever state it might be. Whereas raw, I agree, is where the best discussions lay.

[ Clark takes back-to-the-door with no fuss. There's a certain manner to him that gives the impression that he's not really ruffled by much, even as he keeps his shoulders a little curved, tries to make himself the smallest version of him, moves as gently as possible. He's someone who clearly takes care. ]

Any thoughts on where to begin?

Tell me about your farm.

[ By's chin drops into his hand, fingertips curling into his cheek, a smile on his lips. This is...perhaps not going to be quite as easy as advertised. ]

[ There's a certain way that Clark can light up, not like the noon sun, but like the morning, something soft and almost glowing. It fills his eyes, the way he smiles as he opens his mouth to start, the way he settles into his seat and his shoulders relax. Maybe some part of him is sure that By will try and use this against him, given the way their discussion ended, but most of him, most of him can't be anything but genuine about home. ]

The farm came from my father's side, passed onto him from his father. Funny enough, my mother's father's farm is just over the fence on the north side, and he raised cattle, so I grew up with fields and fields to run through when the urge came over me. Of course, when I was very little, I was afraid of the cows, so I'd get scared off, but when I was older, it was fun to go and visit.

We kept a dog most of the time, ratter more than anything, though there was a couple of years where we took in a few lambs after a lambing season was a little too successful at the Henderson's two farms over. Shelby wasn't much of a sheep dog but she tried.

I did my chores before school and after school, before my homework unless I had a heavy load. When I wasn't working with my dad on one of the machines or repairing the fences, I was with my mother in the kitchen, learning how to cook and bake anything I could.

My father believed that feeding people was one of the noblest professions a man could have.

[ By is quiet, listening to all of that with all apparent attention. No sign of boredom or disinterest. ]

So why aren't you a farmer, then?

[ There's a sort of bittersweetness to his eyes, the way his smile dips. ]

I had a different destiny out there in the world. Farming wasn't enough for me.

I loved him but... there were things about the world we didn't always agree on.

Such as?

He was... afraid, of certain things. Of the way that the world handled certain kinds of people.

I wasn't. I... wanted to be who I was. I thought the world would learn how to deal with... someone like me.

It wasn't the kind of thing I could do in a small town in central Kansas.

[ Byerly suspects he knows exactly what the man is talking about. That earlier flirtation, after all - He knows what it's like to crave the sinful big city, where no one gives enough of a shit to meddle in your choices of who to kiss. And so he quips, to lighten the weight of that history: ]

You simply couldn't hide being a...journalist.

[ He knows what it sounds like. The similarities between what he's talking about and other parts of himself that face much more common struggles... well, he's used it to his advantage before: one of many ways he uses the fact that he's a terrible liar to not lie to people while keeping his secret safe. So there's a 'knowing' sort of quality to the way he meets By's eyes and nods. ]

Yes, exactly.

[ Under most circumstances, Byerly would continue to press and prod. Imperial Security had taught him, after all, trust but verify - trust yourself, trust your instincts, but don't take them for the truth. Keep nosing until you hear a confirmation. But, well - Well. Everyone has their weaknesses, the places where they're a little softer. He isn't going to drag the stories of how hard it was to be a young queer out of good Mr. Kent. He doesn't have an appetite for them, especially here, where that tendency isn't present like it was in his boyhood. ]

So the fellow goes to the big city. And how does he find his job?

He does a lot of other jobs first. And then he discovers that he has something to say. A calling he feels will give to the world as much as, if not more than, feeding it as a farmer.

[ And he'd let By start, as much to get him comfortable, as much to let him feel as if this whole thing wasn't one sided, but he'd come here to interview By, after all. All the same, it comes out seemingly accidental. ]

What about you? 'Emperor' is the sort of thing you're born to, but I'm sure you have passions. Hobbies. Something you feel is worthwhile.

Oh, we're sitting right in front of my passion and hobby. [ By gestures to the bar and the alcohol behind it. ] As I said. By the Besotted is what I'm going for.

[ He tilts his head to the side, regarding Clark. ]

Do you have Emperors where you're from, Monsieur Kent?

[ He glances over at the bar before turning back to By. ]

We have them, in some countries. Not in the one I live in. There, we have elected officials, led by a similarly-elected president.

Democracy! How dreadful.

[ There's an irony in his manner that suggests he doesn't really mean it. But then, to be fair, that irony is always there. ]

'Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others'.

[ A tilt of his head.]

Or so it's been said.

[ A rare, genuine laugh. ]

I like that. I'll have to remember it.

It's attributed to a gentleman named Winston Churchill, if you need to know.

[ He gestures to By with his hand.]

Though you didn't answer my question.

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