Logs:Brush Strokes

Brush Strokes
"Maybe I'm a little sad that Solith's about to fly again."
RL Date: 7 January, 2016
Who: K'zin, Telavi
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: K'zin performs the traditional redwort painting on Telavi before Solith rises.
Where: View to a Kill Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
When: Day 5, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10)



OOC Notes: Tela's redwort design: [1]


The groundcloth's spread over her bed, and Telavi-- freshly washed and anointed-- spread over that, her heels kicked up in the morning klah-scented air; she's trying to hold still, she is, but the brush is tickling, and it's hard to peek back at K'zin properly when she has to hold still. The klah scent melds nicely with the vanilla one, renewed, on her pillowcase. Not so much as to be overwhelming, of course, just the tiniest amount to give a whiff as she moves her head. "Telavi," K'zin's warm voice manages to infuse his scold for the wiggles with the marked fondness of their now officially over 8 turns involved together. "You're going to end up with a crooked tree if you keep moving." It's not really a threat, of course; it's just what happens when you're using a brush and the canvas squirms around. Eight Turns is almost... almost... eight and an eighth. Those toes of Tela's curl at the sound of K'zin's voice, even before she must be able to parse the remonstrance; "Mmm," she says, and the fine long muscles rise and flex along the backs of her legs instead. "Is there anything on it? Why..." this is not a complaint, this is interest, "not flowers this time?" Or hearts, suns, or stars, any of the many redwort designs he's drawn on her over this time, whether before flights or just for fun. "Would you like something on it?" K'zin counters, brows lifting but brush not stopping its resumed long strokes down her back. "I'm looking forward to winter." Of course he is. "And the rest just didn't feel right. Call it a mood," he suggests. "Maybe I'm a little sad that Solith's about to fly again." Maybe. "Maybe I wish I could take time off for other reasons, for reasons that kept us together the whole while." Because at some point here, Solith will rise Rasavyth will chase her and K'zin and Tela will be apart. That's worth being sad about, no? "I don't... know." She's unbothered by that, the not knowing; "A leaf, maybe. Leaves? Not one 'fluttering dismally to the forest floor, there to disintegrate and rot'..." or maybe so, because, "That would be sad, I hope it's a different sad, though." Tela's voice is as dreamy as it is reflective, more and more the reflection itself as the hours go by. "I wish we could go, together, the whole time, good reasons," no crash, no smash, no eggs, no death, none of that. "Go together," might be repetition except there's not even a comma's worth of a pause: go together, fly together, twine together. All of that; she wants that too. "It's a different sad," K'zin assures her, lying through his teeth, but so easily. "Don't trouble yourself, love." He pauses his brush strokes and leans to press a kiss to the back of her neck. "We'll be fine, we always are." Aren't they? Perhaps if they don't look at that 'fine' too closely too soon afterward. "How about a flower with two leaves?" It's a gentle suggestion. K'zin's generally pretty good about doing things gently at these times of the turn. He never likes to kill her buzz. He does it so well; it's easy to believe... especially when it's him, and when she wants to, and with Solith turning her bones to air and light. Only, perhaps it's not so much wanting as not even thinking not to. She breathes out, a sigh, and rests her cheek on her arm once more. "I'd like that... I like what you draw, even the ones I never get to see." "Ah, but these ones aren't really for you. They are, but they're for us. For whoever you're with. You're just lucky I've never actually written 'Hands Off,'" comes with a wan amusement. K'zin lifts the brush just in case she needs to twist to look at him. "Do you want me to make you a book for your turnday? Of my drawings." Then, "Maybe two books. I'll do some self-portraits." He probably doesn't really mean mostly of his face. It's not that she has to twist, immediately, so much as that she has to giggle, and then peek back. "You still haven't, really?" doesn't doubt him. "I'd like that," Telavi assures, though then again, just now-- especially as kind as he always tries to be, with the oil and the tending and her favorite bath-scrubby-glove and those blankets that magically get freshened and extra snuggly when he's around, and most of all being with her-- she might like just about anything K'zin chooses to give her. "I'll ask you again after. I'm starting to run out of grand turnday plans," K'zin points out, "you might have to resign yourself to mundane gifts unless you'd like me to put stars above my bed." So she can see them both places. "Yes," and that turns into that twist for good, "Yes, definitely. Lots of stars and-- stars you could climb on?" Telavi wonders all of a sudden. "Not to take over your wall but-- here and there--" the upward flutter of her fingers suggests high. "I already have stars you can climb on," K'zin reminds, if not in the shape of stars. "That's better left for the main cavern. We might get creative, Tela, but I'm not going to climb the wall and leap down upon you no matter how you beg." He's resolute. Don't test him on this. "But they--" aren't in the shape, but then Tela forgets to talk because she's listening and then, then, more giggling. "No, no," she manages. "Of course you wouldn't. Never. Never ever ever." And then there goes that dimple. K'zin reaches out with a (clean) finger and touches that dimple fondly, shifting to set his 'paint' and brush aside briefly to stretch down onto the bed and seek her lips for a kiss. "I love you," is quiet but no less true than any of the other of hundreds of times he's said it to her in the past eight turns. He gets more kisses, between and surrounding each of the words as Tela tells him back. as genuinely if Solith-inebriatedly as she ever has; and then she's moved to distract him further, even if his masterwork should prove incomplete. Surely it doesn't matter if the tree's missing the odd branch as well as leaves.

Logs:Brush Strokes

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