Logs:An Ominous Clacking
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 6 August, 2013 |
| Who: K'zin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tela and K'zin attend an Istan Spiderclaw Bake and get a little silly! |
| Where: Main Beach, Ista Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 6, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Hot with tropical breeze and a clear sky. |
| Mentions: C'wlin/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, N'hax/Mentions |
  |
| Main Beach, Ista Weyr The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
She can't answer right away with words, her mouth is full, so she settles for a bright-eyed nod-- and when Tela can speak, "It's a good thing this hasn't gotten noised about, or else the whole Weyr would be here. So tasty. And they're nice." A sudden smile, "Your friends, I mean, even without garlic butter. Tasty spiderclaws, not-tasty friends." "Well, if there were more of us, or I didn't have friends here, we might be causing an inter-Weyr incident. Did I tell you that K'del told me that because of C'wlin and N'hax there are those that see us all as bad eggs? I'm sure I'm especially bad because I'm a bronzerider. Nevermind that my dragon isn't even from the same clutch." K'zin rolls his eyes. "This is amazing food," He agrees. The smile on his face is carefree. It's a look that has been far too lacking in recent months. "You do have to be careful with spiderclaws though. They're like tunnelsnakes. Might come alive after you kill them. Even after they're roasted." He warns, expression and tone turning abruptly serious. That carefree expression may be credited for why Telavi doesn't dwell on the topic of the terrible two, at least beyond, "No, no, you didn't," and a sigh. At least not vocally. Instead, a little too round-eyed, "Do they really? What about if you've eaten them? Do the spiderclaws reassemble in your stomach and then start clicking and clacking their way out again?" "Oh, they--" K'zin starts, and then all of a sudden his expression turns to intense distress. "Ungh!" It's not a pretty sound as the hand closest to Telavi starts to clutch at his stomach. He gives Telavi a desperate look, his hand shifting so rapidly on the fabric of his long-sleeved, light tunic that it might look in the flickering firelight like something was moving around in there. Then there's the clicking and clacking that Tela described, rhythmic and ominous. Her immediate reaction's, "What?! Did you swallow--" but he's making noises, he's breathing, good signs, and in the next second just where K'zin is clutching kicks in and Tela gives him a slitted glance. "Funny. Very funny," except wait, that's not just his stomach, that's, "Your shirt! You'll get grease all over it," and she's reaching with her free hand to try and snag his wrist and pull his hand away, so certain that he's putting her on and she knows what's going on... that the sounds catch her wholly by surprise and she jumps. That squeak, it's not quiet. Not at all. Despite the fact that Telavi's apparently onto him, K'zin is committed to the act. He pitches himself forward onto the sand and twitches dramatically, "Tela!" His voice is stained, "It's coming for you next!" Which mightn't be so scary save for the clacking and then the tug on her sarong. The tug that comes from his hand. Well, no, not hand! CLAWS! The hard part about composure is getting it back. Telavi's reactive, looking blindly out at the others around-- maybe the spiderclaws were bad? is anyone else convulsing too?-- for just a moment before tipping off that log to crouch next to him and-- this time it's more like a shriek as she skitters back only to fall back on her bottom. Whatever spiderclaw legs she had in her hand, emptied and otherwise, they're lost in the carnage. Carnage-- and laughter. K'zin is rolling, literally, in his laughter. Although the two aren't necessarily related. He's rolling onto his back, the arm with the spiderclaw shell half slunk up one sleeve held aloft as he just loses it. There's no heed paid to the black sand on his face shirt or swim trunks. All there is in this moment is the teenagerly delight at having gotten Telavi. Boys. Laughing? Or crying?! Telavi can't be sure at first until she's righting herself and then, "You!" After which she promptly seeks to sit on him, right on his stomach before he rolls much further, though it's really hard to maintain a properly frowny face when off-balance and blushing and starting to laugh, herself. At least she can glare. Sitting on his stomach makes it harder to laugh, but still, it doesn't stop him. And as a consequence it's a little bit of a bumpy seat for Telavi, his strong abs flexing with each bout of laughter. Eventually K'zin's coming to a stop, breathing hard and grinning his goofy grin up at Telavi. "That's going in my list of top ten favorite moments with you. You should've seen your face!" His hand reaches to touch her hip lightly, although not, apparently, made uncomfortable by the fact that now he's her seat instead of the driftwood. What makes it even harder to glare is that grin of his, a known flaw in the professionally maintained glare system-- though at least eventually is long enough that by then, bright-eyed Telavi has scooped up a handful of that convenient sand he hasn't been paying attention to. "Will it be still in your top ten list when I drop this," her other hand going to his collar, "down your shirt?" "That might bump it into my top five!" K'zin's mood can't be sullied by this newest development, but if Tela wants to get the sand down his shirt, she's going to have to be quick. Less than a breath later, K'zin's hips are lifting as though he's going to roll again, sending Tela sliding backward to the sands and he's scrambling to try to get himself atop her instead. If anyone's noticed the roughhousing, the progress of the match with the laughter and the sitting has convinced interested onlookers that this is friendly and no one's in any danger. "Ha!" She may not have had siblings to pound the necessity into her, but Tela is quick, even after having committed the cardinal sin of announcing her weapon before she deploys it... though part does go scattering across his shirt between them, wasted. She's too busy reaching back to catch herself with a, "No, oh no you don't!" so she can try and scoot backwards and away and where did that bucket of spiderclaw shells go? Tela's not paying attention, not to that and only a little more to the log. He may have delighted in the game, but the fact that he stops his pursuit in favor of reaching out a hand to the greenrider to warn, "Careful! The bucket!" shows that K'zin is both growing up and mindful of his manners when a guest of another Weyr. He's pushing back on his knees, grinning at her and reaching up to his face to brush some of the sands from his cheek and then peeling off his shirt. The fact that she immediately stops her scrambling in response says nothing at all about her manners, though when Tela twists around, she does spot the bucket in question and sets it further to the side for safety. Which of course means she has to wrinkle her nose at him and his grin when she turns back, but she's smiling, because saved: no flailing about in spiderclaw-smelling spiderclaw-sand and then having to fish all the bits back out and who knows what else, and also, that grinning, and also, shirt. Naturally, Telavi has to supervise, it's the helpful thing to do. "There's some... there," she sits forward to note with a flutter of her fingers, quite as though he might have missed it. Naturally. K'zin seems unconcerned with the bits, not going after them. Instead he's rising, sand raining from so many parts of him. "I'm going to go rinse off. You want to come?" He offers a hand down to Telavi. "That seems like a fine idea," and Tela's hopping back up with the help of his hand, only to untie her sarong and shake it out with the other. It can stay there, draped over the log, because after a cheeky peek at him, she's running on into the surf. He might've been expecting her to run, or maybe he was preparing to do so himself, because K'zin is right on Telavi's heels, going so far as to snatch her up from behind once they're into the surf, twirling her around when he's about thigh deep, and then tossing her deeper. At least he gives her, "Ready to fly?" As a warning so she knows what's coming. That's not a warning, that's incitement. "High!" and then, splash. There's laughter and K'zin wades in the direction that he tossed her. If she's down too long worry might quickly turn to a frantic search. None of that, though this far away from the fires, it's Belior that lights Tela's reemergence, drenched and laughing and not drowning yet-- for it's summer and the water's warm and why stop playing? Perhaps there's a grain or two of sand left to get rid of, after all, before returning to shore. No need, yet, to think about between. The time for thinking about between won't last forever, sadly. But the night's growing short by the time that time arrives, with many more laughs and smiles having been shared between the two. The warmth both of temperature and spirit melted the worries of a colder harder place. But nothing lasts forever. Everything has its time, and its end. OMINOUS. SO OMINOUS. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:An Ominous Clacking"Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 07 Aug 2013 04:23:47 GMT.
Hehehe! Oh man, this gives me an idea... >.> *shiftyeyes* :D
Leave A Comment