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xp_logsPyotr and Darcy talk a little about childhood farm life while gathering eggs and cleaning the chicken coop.
Pyotr decided it was time to take a day off from art and his usual routine and get back to the land. Unfortunately for him, what that encompassed in New York was either going apple-picking with wealthy white people or doing some maintenance and cleaning of the chicken coop.
The coop it was, then. And given to his Russian-born self the day was quite pleasant, and he didn't want to get guano and feed and feathers and all sorts of other gunk over his good clothes, it was boots and a pair of overalls for him today.
So there he was with a self-defense broom that he could use to maneuver the chickens around, discover any of their hidden eggs, and clean up their waste and sloppy eating habits.
“I see I wasn’t the only one with chickens on the brain this morning,” Darcy greeted as she came to a stop just outside the coop. She was dressed for coop mucking, leggings tucked into rubber wellies that were easy to rinse off and wash, and a worn flannel button-down tied at her waist with her hair in a set of French braids. There was a wheelbarrow under her hands, tools settling with a quiet rattle as everything came to a rest. “Although my brain was more ‘time to muck it out and do more composting’ than gathering eggs.”
Pyotr quirked an eyebrow at her. "You surprise me." he said with a smile. "In good way!" he added after a moment. "Chickens are tasty but can make hellacious mess." he observed. "I can take over mucking if you'd rather hunt eggs." he offered
“I grew up on a farm. Alpacas, but we had a few chickens as well,” Darcy replied with a laugh. “I don’t mind doing either, we took turns mucking the coop once I was old enough to actually be a help instead of a hindrance. Before that, I was either the egg gatherer or chicken distracter.” She bent swiftly as Yolko Ono made a run for it, scooping the hen up with an affectionate swipe of fingers down her feathers. “No ma’am, there are dogs and wolves that would just love to eat you up out there,” she scolded. “Might be easiest if we get the eggs and coop cleaning taken care of first, so we can lock them all up for the time it takes to tackle the yard.”
"Da, this makes sense." he said and then set to with the mien of a man who knew his way around a chicken coop. "I understand Alani gave them all silly names." he said by way of making conversation. "I named a few when I was small but my sister to my knowledge never did. And my brother, well, he did name one Yuri Gragarin but even then he was mad for the stars." he said and then paused to take and release a heavy breath.
“That’s because stars are awesome.” Darcy slipped on a thin pair of gloves, determined to keep her hands and nails fairly clean of the stuff that could be a byproduct from the chicken coop. “Ooh, looks like someone freshened the straw recently, that’s nice.” Collecting eggs was fairly zen, especially since none of the girls were looking broody yet. Yolko clucked at them a little while they moved through the coop, but Darcy had pegged her as one of the chattier birds ages ago. “Yes, yes, we’re stealing the fruits of your labor,” she teased. “And in return we’re gonna leave you the good food with the calcium for extra strong shells so none of you become egg eaters, yes we are.”
Pyotr smiled at Darcy's chatter as he worked, "Da, are inspirational. Less-so when rocket brother was on has malfunction fourteen seconds after ignition." he said with a quiet sigh. "I miss him. Now more than ever." he admitted. "Am surprised this was not in my dossier." he said while glancing over at Darcy.
“Basic family details are,” Darcy acknowledged. “But I’m generally not the sort to bring up someone’s trauma. And well… space malfunctions are generally traumatic. I mean, we’ve got a whole very traumatic space-time portal and everything, that’s enough of a reminder.” She continued picking up eggs, grateful it wasn’t overly hot out yet. “You want to tell me about him? I mean, your dossier has the basics - name, dates of birth and death, occupation - but doesn’t really go into depth about who your family members are as people.”
"Misha was my big brother. I idealized him when I was little. Big Rasputin man, chosen to be in space program! Peasant from Siberia! Was very exciting. Parents very proud. Studied hard in Kazakhstan. Chosen for top-secret Soviet mission launch, very hush-hush. Then rocket went up and exploded." he said. "I was devastated. Do you have any siblings?" he asked pleasantly as he did what was by far the dirtiest job inside the coop with no hesitation.
Darcy did a weird shrug and headshake, then explained. “My parents died when I was very young. I grew up with my Gran, my aunt and uncle, and eventually my two younger cousins. I suppose they might as well be siblings, since we grew up under the same roof. We always knew we were cousins, but we were treated the same. Same chores, same basic skills learning, just me doing it first. Aunt Lu was pregnant with Isaac when my parents passed, and Jo came around about 5 years later. What about your parents?”
"Nikolai and Alexandra." he said. "Still alive, still farming." he added a moment later. "Getting older now, but is no retirement plan in Siberian farming." he said as he worked. "They have Internet now. My inbox may never recover." he said teasingly.
“Did they learn about chain emails? Because that was the worst, when I started college and Gran learned how to use the internet. So. Many. Chain. Emails.” Darcy shook her head, moving on to the last nesting spot to check for eggs. “Ooh, Eggatha this is a pretty egg,” she cooed at one of the chickens, before holding it up for Pyotr to inspect. “Look at those pretty little speckles, she’s all decorated for Easter and way too late. Or soon.”
"That is an impressive egg. Will make excellent centerpiece of omlette to feed heroes of socialist labor." he joked with a smile. "I get chain emails in languages I know parents do not speak. Have never been so tempted to forward to sister, but …" he said and then trailed off with a sigh. "Apologies." he said, mindful of talking to someone who was very spy-adjacent.
Darcy shrugged. “You have no need to apologize to me.” She set the basket of eggs carefully outside the fenced area around the coop, making sure none of the hens had escaped, and grabbed a pair of work gloves and a rake. “Maybe it’s a good idea. One of those ‘if I’ve gotta suffer so do my friends’ sort of things. I don’t know her well enough to say.”
He waved that off. "Nyet. Is more of no matter what I say, what I try, is wrong thing. I am always wrong, and stupid, and fucking embarrassing." he said, the last two words coming out for some reason in a strong Canadian accent.
Darcy shrugged as she started to rake and turn the hay. “Couldn’t tell you. Although Jo thinks I’m fucking embarrassing all the time, so it might just be a younger sibling thing. I embarrass Maya sometimes too, and she’s like a younger sister to me. The rest of it… well. You’ve led pretty different lives. It might be easier to reconnect if you consider her a stranger that you’d like to get to know.
"Am probably being asshole but is it so wrong to want my little sister back?" he asked rhetorically. "Answer is yes, know this, does not make it easier to accept. Rasputins, our bonds were before snowflake disappeared strong. Misha died, was devastated. Illyana came along, she adored me. Looked up to me, as I looked out for her. Then I failed her, she disappeared, rest of story you know. Came back _wanting_ the power she'd amassed in Limbo. _Wanting_ to be Queen. Having hard time accepting in my heart."
“But you can’t have her back like that,” she pointed out, ever practical. “Not unless you make some reprehensible deals with magic or mind tinker types, and well.” Darcy raised one eyebrow, giving him a stern look. “If I ever suspect you might be seriously considering that, you’re both not the man you profess to be and I’m going to have the magic team come down on you like a freight train. I’d like to keep thinking more highly of you than that, Pyotr. If you try and meet her peer to peer, maybe you will get your sister back. Not little, but as the young woman her experiences have made her.”
He just sighed at that. "Probably true. Just need time to get stupid heart in alignment with reality." he said. "So, anyway - you want to bring all the birds in here so we can take care of their yard?" he asked.
“Sounds great.” Darcy let the subject drop without further commentary and started politely shooing the hens into the coop. “We’re missing one. Pyotr, do you see Audrey anywhere? She’s dark brown and gold, so she blends in with things really well.” Darcy made a few clucking noises, ducking down to peer behind the coop. “Ah. There you are, fussy girl. C’mon Audrey, I’ve got yummy treats for good hens that get in the coop,” she cooed, dropping a thin trail of feed along the ground.
Pyotr chuckled as Darcy led the wayward hen back into the coop. "You lure chickens well." he commented.
“I’ve always been good at herding cats. And hens. People too,” Darcy replied with a wink as she shut the coop door behind a waddling Audrey Henburn. “Oh, and Pyotr?” she asked as they started working on the yard. “Happy birthday, farm boy.”
Pyotr decided it was time to take a day off from art and his usual routine and get back to the land. Unfortunately for him, what that encompassed in New York was either going apple-picking with wealthy white people or doing some maintenance and cleaning of the chicken coop.
The coop it was, then. And given to his Russian-born self the day was quite pleasant, and he didn't want to get guano and feed and feathers and all sorts of other gunk over his good clothes, it was boots and a pair of overalls for him today.
So there he was with a self-defense broom that he could use to maneuver the chickens around, discover any of their hidden eggs, and clean up their waste and sloppy eating habits.
“I see I wasn’t the only one with chickens on the brain this morning,” Darcy greeted as she came to a stop just outside the coop. She was dressed for coop mucking, leggings tucked into rubber wellies that were easy to rinse off and wash, and a worn flannel button-down tied at her waist with her hair in a set of French braids. There was a wheelbarrow under her hands, tools settling with a quiet rattle as everything came to a rest. “Although my brain was more ‘time to muck it out and do more composting’ than gathering eggs.”
Pyotr quirked an eyebrow at her. "You surprise me." he said with a smile. "In good way!" he added after a moment. "Chickens are tasty but can make hellacious mess." he observed. "I can take over mucking if you'd rather hunt eggs." he offered
“I grew up on a farm. Alpacas, but we had a few chickens as well,” Darcy replied with a laugh. “I don’t mind doing either, we took turns mucking the coop once I was old enough to actually be a help instead of a hindrance. Before that, I was either the egg gatherer or chicken distracter.” She bent swiftly as Yolko Ono made a run for it, scooping the hen up with an affectionate swipe of fingers down her feathers. “No ma’am, there are dogs and wolves that would just love to eat you up out there,” she scolded. “Might be easiest if we get the eggs and coop cleaning taken care of first, so we can lock them all up for the time it takes to tackle the yard.”
"Da, this makes sense." he said and then set to with the mien of a man who knew his way around a chicken coop. "I understand Alani gave them all silly names." he said by way of making conversation. "I named a few when I was small but my sister to my knowledge never did. And my brother, well, he did name one Yuri Gragarin but even then he was mad for the stars." he said and then paused to take and release a heavy breath.
“That’s because stars are awesome.” Darcy slipped on a thin pair of gloves, determined to keep her hands and nails fairly clean of the stuff that could be a byproduct from the chicken coop. “Ooh, looks like someone freshened the straw recently, that’s nice.” Collecting eggs was fairly zen, especially since none of the girls were looking broody yet. Yolko clucked at them a little while they moved through the coop, but Darcy had pegged her as one of the chattier birds ages ago. “Yes, yes, we’re stealing the fruits of your labor,” she teased. “And in return we’re gonna leave you the good food with the calcium for extra strong shells so none of you become egg eaters, yes we are.”
Pyotr smiled at Darcy's chatter as he worked, "Da, are inspirational. Less-so when rocket brother was on has malfunction fourteen seconds after ignition." he said with a quiet sigh. "I miss him. Now more than ever." he admitted. "Am surprised this was not in my dossier." he said while glancing over at Darcy.
“Basic family details are,” Darcy acknowledged. “But I’m generally not the sort to bring up someone’s trauma. And well… space malfunctions are generally traumatic. I mean, we’ve got a whole very traumatic space-time portal and everything, that’s enough of a reminder.” She continued picking up eggs, grateful it wasn’t overly hot out yet. “You want to tell me about him? I mean, your dossier has the basics - name, dates of birth and death, occupation - but doesn’t really go into depth about who your family members are as people.”
"Misha was my big brother. I idealized him when I was little. Big Rasputin man, chosen to be in space program! Peasant from Siberia! Was very exciting. Parents very proud. Studied hard in Kazakhstan. Chosen for top-secret Soviet mission launch, very hush-hush. Then rocket went up and exploded." he said. "I was devastated. Do you have any siblings?" he asked pleasantly as he did what was by far the dirtiest job inside the coop with no hesitation.
Darcy did a weird shrug and headshake, then explained. “My parents died when I was very young. I grew up with my Gran, my aunt and uncle, and eventually my two younger cousins. I suppose they might as well be siblings, since we grew up under the same roof. We always knew we were cousins, but we were treated the same. Same chores, same basic skills learning, just me doing it first. Aunt Lu was pregnant with Isaac when my parents passed, and Jo came around about 5 years later. What about your parents?”
"Nikolai and Alexandra." he said. "Still alive, still farming." he added a moment later. "Getting older now, but is no retirement plan in Siberian farming." he said as he worked. "They have Internet now. My inbox may never recover." he said teasingly.
“Did they learn about chain emails? Because that was the worst, when I started college and Gran learned how to use the internet. So. Many. Chain. Emails.” Darcy shook her head, moving on to the last nesting spot to check for eggs. “Ooh, Eggatha this is a pretty egg,” she cooed at one of the chickens, before holding it up for Pyotr to inspect. “Look at those pretty little speckles, she’s all decorated for Easter and way too late. Or soon.”
"That is an impressive egg. Will make excellent centerpiece of omlette to feed heroes of socialist labor." he joked with a smile. "I get chain emails in languages I know parents do not speak. Have never been so tempted to forward to sister, but …" he said and then trailed off with a sigh. "Apologies." he said, mindful of talking to someone who was very spy-adjacent.
Darcy shrugged. “You have no need to apologize to me.” She set the basket of eggs carefully outside the fenced area around the coop, making sure none of the hens had escaped, and grabbed a pair of work gloves and a rake. “Maybe it’s a good idea. One of those ‘if I’ve gotta suffer so do my friends’ sort of things. I don’t know her well enough to say.”
He waved that off. "Nyet. Is more of no matter what I say, what I try, is wrong thing. I am always wrong, and stupid, and fucking embarrassing." he said, the last two words coming out for some reason in a strong Canadian accent.
Darcy shrugged as she started to rake and turn the hay. “Couldn’t tell you. Although Jo thinks I’m fucking embarrassing all the time, so it might just be a younger sibling thing. I embarrass Maya sometimes too, and she’s like a younger sister to me. The rest of it… well. You’ve led pretty different lives. It might be easier to reconnect if you consider her a stranger that you’d like to get to know.
"Am probably being asshole but is it so wrong to want my little sister back?" he asked rhetorically. "Answer is yes, know this, does not make it easier to accept. Rasputins, our bonds were before snowflake disappeared strong. Misha died, was devastated. Illyana came along, she adored me. Looked up to me, as I looked out for her. Then I failed her, she disappeared, rest of story you know. Came back _wanting_ the power she'd amassed in Limbo. _Wanting_ to be Queen. Having hard time accepting in my heart."
“But you can’t have her back like that,” she pointed out, ever practical. “Not unless you make some reprehensible deals with magic or mind tinker types, and well.” Darcy raised one eyebrow, giving him a stern look. “If I ever suspect you might be seriously considering that, you’re both not the man you profess to be and I’m going to have the magic team come down on you like a freight train. I’d like to keep thinking more highly of you than that, Pyotr. If you try and meet her peer to peer, maybe you will get your sister back. Not little, but as the young woman her experiences have made her.”
He just sighed at that. "Probably true. Just need time to get stupid heart in alignment with reality." he said. "So, anyway - you want to bring all the birds in here so we can take care of their yard?" he asked.
“Sounds great.” Darcy let the subject drop without further commentary and started politely shooing the hens into the coop. “We’re missing one. Pyotr, do you see Audrey anywhere? She’s dark brown and gold, so she blends in with things really well.” Darcy made a few clucking noises, ducking down to peer behind the coop. “Ah. There you are, fussy girl. C’mon Audrey, I’ve got yummy treats for good hens that get in the coop,” she cooed, dropping a thin trail of feed along the ground.
Pyotr chuckled as Darcy led the wayward hen back into the coop. "You lure chickens well." he commented.
“I’ve always been good at herding cats. And hens. People too,” Darcy replied with a wink as she shut the coop door behind a waddling Audrey Henburn. “Oh, and Pyotr?” she asked as they started working on the yard. “Happy birthday, farm boy.”
