Logs:Creativity
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| RL Date: 1 April, 2013 |
| Who: Barnabas, Vienne |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Bones and Vienne discuss book, music and art. Kind of. |
| Where: Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: My apologies to Bones for taking forever to post this! |
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| Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr Thrusting out from the shadow of the mountain, this long and narrow clifftop might once have been a ledge, but a pile of bramble-strewn, graffiti-chiseled boulders where a weyr's mouth would have been suggests a reason for its abandonment long ago. Though its views of the eastern bowl are grand, particularly the lake itself and the yawning air entrance to the hatching sands, its location makes the diving cliff unique: jutting some ten or twelve feet above the deepest part of the cool, clear lake. Especially in summertime, many climb up the narrow stairs to seek the thrill of a swift fall into the water, but those who just want to enjoy the view can take those same stairs back down: carved directly into the bowl wall, worn and crumbling and slick from use, but enough for the careful to get the job done.
The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today.
With spring taking hold of the Weyr, there are plenty of people enjoying the sun at the lakeshore, and what better place to watch from remote distance than the diving ledge? Especially since the water is too cold to see anyone actually diving. Today, the ledge has been staked out by Oswinth and Vienne, the blue soaking in the sunlight and his rider settled on a blanket to help protect her skirt from the damp of a morning shower. She has a book with her, leaning back against Oswinth side as her attention drifts between idle reading and even more idle glances across the lake. The sound of Bones' approach is a peircing one, easy to pick up from a distance thanks to the idle whistling of a folk tune likely familiar to only him. It can only grow clearer in Vienne's ears as he makes his way up the narrow steps, the sound soon accompanied by the heavy clomping of worn leather boots into the stone. "I thought that was Oswinth I spotted from down in the bowl!" His voice is boomingly loud, greeting thrown out from a distance as he approaches with a grin, hands in pockets. The noisy approach certainly keeps Vienne from being surprised by Bones' arrival and the moment he comes into view, she can only smile up from her book at the way he manages to dominate the space with all that clomping and booming. "Bones," she greets with a wide, toothy grin, amusement in her eyes as she's tucking her reading away for some other time. Oswinth lets out a polite rumble as he regards the hairy man and Vienne asks, "How are you? Out enjoying the sun?" "Eh, I'm good I'm good..." he fires back to her question as he tugs a hand free from a pocket to give a single wave towards Oswinth with two outstretched fingers. "... but I'll enjoy it more when it's warm enough to actually jump back in the water. Been so long since I gone swimming I'm worryin' I'll forget how." The hand slips back into his pocket, and stops at the edge of her blanket, standing above her with a steady smile. "Whatcha readin'?" "I don't think that happens," Vienne says with a twist of her smile. "I think, once you know how to swim, you know forever." She scoots over a little, leaving plenty of blanket beside her if he wants to sit and the blue dips his head a little, as if maybe he wouldn't mind terribly being a seatback for the gardener. "Oh, it's a book of children's stories. I was just..." She gives a little shrug, like she can't really explain it. There's a brief blink of worry on Bones' face as he glances down at her blanket, and before settling in he lifts each foot just enough to double check his boots for any excess filth. Each of them are kicked against the stone underfoot just to ensure they won't sully anything by too much, and he settles in alongside the blanket, laying back aganinst Oswinth and tucking his hands behind his head. "... just readin' kid stories." he finishes her sentence for her with a smile. "No reason to be shy. It is what it is. Zee reads em too." Vienne watches all the careful undirting with a shy expression as if maybe she's not unconcerned about such things, just too polite to say anything. But once he's on and sitting along side her, she resettles herself against the warm blue hide. "Zee?" she wonders, not recognizing the nickname. "I thought I might write a little. Some songs. Just for fun." And somehow the children's books are connected. Bones moves quick to clarify on who he's talking about. "Azaylia. She's got a whole head full of worry 'bout the Weyr, so she likes to unwind with real easy readin' like that." It's at the mention of a potential interest in more creative pursuits that Bones arches an eyebrow, and leans forward to rest his elbows on tucked up knees. "Oh yeah? Y'got that artist bug in you eh? Whatcha gonna sing about?" It's just pure guesswork that she'd be the the one performing her own work. Vienne's smile spreads a bit more broadly, "Exactly," she says in agreement with the goldrider's reasoning. "They're light, they end well - happily ever after." As for what's she going to sing about, she lifts that book of children's stories in answer. "Most of them are already songs, of course, but it's nice material to work with. It's been a while since I wrote anything." There's another little shrug to suggest she feels a little bashful about the project, probably the simplicity of it. "Do you have an artistic bug?" she wonders of the man next to her, an eye passing over him. There's an approving nod and smile for the lifted book, Bones immediately curious about what sort of melodies she intended to attach the the classics. "Well y'got a little songbird livin' in your throat, I'can tell just by hearin' you talk. I'm sure you'll do just fine." The compliment is genuine, though he goes a step further in proving that his assessments are perhaps too honest. "Course y'could be tone deaf and I'd never know right? Hehe." He leans back again, nestling his shoulder's in against Oswinth's side. "I ain't the creative type, nope." "I was a harper," Vienne says, trying to explain through a smile that is wide and quiet for the songbird comments. "So..." So that's probably enough reason to believe that she can carry a decent tune. But she cants her head as she looks at Bones, eyes narrowing skeptically. "I don't believe that. You seem like someone who should paint or carve or... something. I think of you as a painter. A great big brush with bold colors." Her teeth catch her lip, like she might worry that what she's just said might sound a little strange. "So you put those pipes to good use then I bet, eh?" He trusts her humble reassurance that she can carry a tune, but as for trusting her expert opinion on his artistic talent? His face says it all, lips parting in disbelief as one eyebrow once again raises high. "I think maybe you been readin' too many stories. They're makin' you too creative." His smile sneaks out again. "I grow plants, and I don't even do that all too good, Vee." Vienne lets out a light chuckle, but she also shakes her head. "I'm serious," she tells him with that laugh lingering in her voice. "You should try it. Maybe you have a talent for it that you don't even know about. Or maybe you'd paint things like no one else does. In a good way." As opposed to the 'what the heck is that' way. She folds her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting idly. "I think everyone has some way that they're creative. Was there something you liked to do when you were a kid?" It's her insistence on seriousness that his him giving a short sigh through his nose and looking nowhere in particular. "I don't think I'd much like painting, but..." he trails off intentionally, pondering what he used to do in his youth that could be ever construed as creative. "Go night swimmin', take a sling to treehoppers, get into scraps with the local kids." He'd turn back to her as he scratches at the side of his cheek, continuing to paint a picture of his youth as best he could. "Snatch marks from the brothel drunks when nobody was lookin', play stabscotch with my pocket knife. I'unno, kid stuff?" Vienne might look a little disappointed with Bones' lack of interest, but it only dips her chin faintly, makes her smile a bit apologetic for the suggestion. But it's a smile that fades as he goes about listing the things he did as a kid, until her mouth is small under blinking eyes. "I don't think I've ever done any of those things," she admits, brow creasing as she tries to imagine what 'stabscotch' is. "Well, except for night swimming." "Well, I don't think it's a big surprise that you and me proooobably didn't get quite the same upbringin eh? Ha!" He pushes himself up from Oswinth's side and scoots a few inches closer to her, reaching towards her book and giving a little motion with his fingers, silently beckoning her to let him see it. "Tell you what, I'll give carvin' a shot and report back next time I see you. And then when I 'eff that up? We'll go night swimmin'" Vienne's brows pop up when Bones starts to shift, uncertain, but then grinning when she realizes that his aim is for the book. She hands it over. "That's probably very true," she admits of their disparate childhoods. But it's not carving that she really wants. "Painting," she tells him. "I mean, you should try carving too, but I want to see you paint something." But since he's scooted closer, she leans aside against his shoulder. "And we can swim whenever you want. Whether you carve or paint or not. Are you going to read to me?" Bones takes the book and opens it up to it's first pages, his lips silently moving as he sounds out the words. From the looks of things, he's not the strongest of readers, but the children's stories offer him no serious roadblocks. He's interrupted briefly by her insistence on painting, and with a roll of his eyes he smiles big and relents. "Alright alright, I'll paint you somethin', but I'm tellin you it's gonna be fresh hot garbage on canvas." He's turned to her in time to see her scooting in against his side, the size difference made clear in proximity. Unexpected, but not unwelcome judging by his smile. "Oh shit no." Reading outloud? He knows his weaknesses. "But how about you pick a fave eh? I like gettin' a taste of someone's favorite story." "That's exactly what I want. Fresh hot garbage on canvas. As long as you try to enjoy yourself and don't worry about what it looks like." And yeah, so it's not his shoulder that Vienne leans on, rather some distance down his arm. But the point is, perhaps, that she leans her shoulder against him, all the better for reading the book in his hands. "I don't know that I have a favorite. I like the Wher and the Dog," she supposes, a classic tale of unlikely friendship. "I suppose that's not much of a surprise," added with a chuckle that's all shudder and no sound. "How about you?" "Don't really got a favorite..." he ponders as he flips idly through the pages, catching the titles. "In fact, don't really know kid stories so good to be honest." He flips idly through the book, inspecting the titles for a time, until finally realizing how much time is wasted in silence. "Lemme borrow this when you're done with it?" He smirks and snaps it closed, handing it back to the greenrider. "Y'know, when you've got your songs ready. Hehe." With that, he slowly pushes himself up to his feet, stretching long arms up above his head with a small grunt. "I gotta get back to work I'm afraid. Gotta put in double time to free myself up some painting time, ha!" Hands back in pockets now as he drifts back towards the steps. "See you next time Vee!"
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