Logs:Mothers Are A Gift
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| RL Date: 4 June, 2011 |
| Who: Khorde, Seani, Tomaeran, Xavior |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tom and Seani spend more time together now that they're not married, and talk to Khorde and Xavior. |
| Where: Beach, Western Island |
| When: Day 8, Month 12, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
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| Surprisingly - or perhaps not - Tom and Seani have been seen in company rather more often now that they're not married than they ever were when they /were/ married. Go figure. It's actually dry, this afternoon, and not quite as chilly as it has been, these late autumn days, and the net result is a group of young people making use of the last few hours of sunlight, out on the beach. Tom and his ex-wife are actually sitting beside each other, the young woman's skirt pulled up above her knees to get sun on her legs, the young man's shirt open, even if it isn't /quite/ warm enough for that. Of course, that just shows off the bruises on his torso: he's sitting stiffly, and the glances Ani is aiming at him are concerned. But; "I'm fine, I swear. I got him worse than he got me." And here comes Khorde, just to round out the day's entertainment. He's actually working, though; a sachel hanging at his hip is full of a type of seagrass, and he hunts diligently along the shore to harvest ideal specimins. If he has a baleful look up the shore to Tom, well, maybe the sun is hitting just right and he's really squinting? Tomaeran doesn't seem to notice Khorde; rather, he seems to be somewhat enjoying Ani's fussing. It's a wonderful thing, not being married to someone like that - but having all that shared history nonetheless. /She/ says, quickly, "Even so. You ought to be more careful, Tom. I don't want--" She breaks off at that point - and from the looks of it, it's because she's caught sight of Khorde and his baleful glances; certainly, her expression turns quizzical. "Good afternoon, Khorde," she calls across the distance, nudging Tom when he fails to echo the sentiment. He eyes Khorde, and says nothing. Oh, look, the Blooded's sneering again. Khorde trudges along, balefully Looking until Seani, you know, catches him. Dammit. "Ani," he replies, listless. "Afternoon." It would be good if he was alone, but with the presence of other people on the beach, well, it will have to be just afternoon alone. The young man is consistently spurred by his muleheadedness, of course, so he abandons his grass-picking to trudge up the beach and properly say hi. "You're looking well today," he states directly to Ani, even going so far as to flash her a smile -- a brief one, but a smile nonetheless. It disappears for a toneless, "Tomaeran." Seani is, as was proven time and time again during her marriage to Tom, very good at ignoring things she doesn't want to see. Her smile, then, is nothing but warm. "It's a beautiful day," she agrees, stretching out her arms to embrace this weak, but still notable, autumn sun. "How are /you/?" She aims an elbow at Tom's arm, carefully avoiding the heavy bruising on his torso; it's enough that after a moment he puts in, however reluctantly, "Hello, Khorde." The warmth is overwhelming. Tom's even here? Khorde's not paying attention. "Oh, Shimana sent me hunting weeds." His normally-sullen disposition is nowhere to be seen, that not-quite-smile in it's place. "Something about... paying homage... to the west wind." He lifts calloused fingers in a vague gesture of... wind-ly-ness. "Catching some sun?" Again: Tom, who? With a beatific smile, Seani tells Khorde, "We'll come and help, then. I always like to be able to lend Shimana a hand; she does so much for us. I think we can get the sun just as easily standing up." Which she does, smoothing down her rumpled skirt once she's on her feet, and turning back to give Tom, who looks sullen and unhappy, more like Khorde's usual attitude than his own, a meaningful glance. He, too, stands, even though, "It's my afternoon off!" Startled surprise -- and another fleeting smile -- clad Khorde's face. Upside-down days are his favorite, though, and he doesn't ask too many questions on lessening the workload. "Well, I certainly appreciate it, and I'm sure she does, too." Hasty: "I'll let her know, of course, that you helped." A half-smile, less nice and more a half-showing-of-teeth, to Tom: "I'm sure she'll certainly appreciate your effort." Sarcasm? Khorde? Never. He paces back towards the weed-line, describing the skinny, pale type that Shim apparently desires. Tomaeran may have stood up, but he doesn't seem inclined to actually help: he trails after the other two, walking in the stilted, uncomfortable way of a person who is really in a lot of pain (or is taking great pains to look as much). "Should ought to," he says, stiffly, with the definite implication that, in his present state, /any/ efforts on his part are above and beyond the call of duty. Ani is, predictably, more sanguine. "Just watch, if it hurts to much to bend, Tom. Really, that's fine. I know the ones she's after-- I think there are more just further across here. How many does she want, Khorde?" Only belatedly would it appear that Khorde takes notice of Tomaera's condition. "What happened to you, man?" The words are stated with a marked lack of empathy or real interest. "She said come back when the bag was half-full. I'm maybe halfway to that point." He opens the sachel to display the precious amount he has gathered thus far: all pale and pretty and carefully snipped at the bottom. Not far away Xavior wanders, his cerulean gaze probing the depths of crag and crack, slim finger tunneling in here and there to coerce whatever lies within out into the light. In the rough pad goes, penetrating the darkness, and out the other side scuttles a rock crawlie to be caught and contained. In the next instant its head is pinched off and flicked at random, then the remains are stuffed in a small weathered pouch. Chunks of stone swing at his sides as he walks, wrapped and tied in dried seaweed, which is in turn tied to his breechcloth. Tomaeran glances at Khorde with raised eyebrows, all incredulous. "Azzarion insulted my sister's memory," he says, sharply. "He got off worse than I did." That's debatable, in fact, but Tom isn't leaving any question about it when he tells the story." Ani's contribution is simple: "I don't think it's right, to say such things about the dead. Filling the rest of that shouldn't take us too long." The latter is, of course, a change of subject, much more cheerful than the preceding statement. She sets to work: efficient, effective, uncomplaining. Her path towards the patch of grasses just ahead has her, for the first time, catching sight of Xavior. "Afternoon!" she calls, as friendly as ever. Khorde thins his lips into a singular line, eyes turning hard for the comment. "I'm sorry to hear that--" and for this, Khorde is entirely sincere. "Way out of line." Silence falls upon the young man and he ducks his head at Ani's words in a bobbed nod of agreement. "I would have done the same." Perhaps the most words he's ever said to Tom, and they don't even grate through his teeth. He bends to his task, efficient with plucking fingers and the occaisional assistance of flashing blade for tough strands. There's a flicker of barest nod to Xavior in hullo, but he's focused at the task on hand for the moment. He'd heard the voices, but was too intent on his mission to take heed while they were still distantly faint, but now that the greeting is made, Xavior swings his searching gaze on a flesh seeking path until the others are seen. A bony hand is lifted in a return hail, while his voice is put to use for possibly the first time today, washing past the stony crags of disuse so that when he first speaks it's more croak than timbre, "It's a good day. The crawlies like the weather." Dinner will be well spiced with added protein tonight. "I like the weather, too," reports Seani. "So that's something the crawlies and I have in common. Of course, I like to /eat/ them, which I suspect they're less fond of." She's said her piece on the altercation between Azzarion and Tom, and seems content, now, to leave that topic to the other two. Tom, of course, is more than willing to keep it going: "It was, wasn't it? I'd like to-- well. If his friend hadn't pulled him off me, I don't know if he would have walked away." Tom doesn't seem to register that he's getting more out of Khorde than would be normal: as per usual, he's rather more focused on his own concerns. "Mmm." Less enthused about the topic, now that it's drifted back into the lands of Tom's boundless ego, Khorde goes about his picking with the same alacrity as the boy typically shows on errands, despite himself. His gaze drifts to Ani after a moment, or two, and he notes, "I think I've about all I need, now. There's a flashed smile -- just for her -- and a nod to Tom and Xavior both. "Later." He'll be skulking back the way he came, now, kthxbai. Xavior strides a slow winding path towards the others, skirting around clumps of rocks until he comes upon a niche in the stone that is a well known haunt of the inspects. Knees pop and crack as he hunkers down, pinching an eye to peer with the other into the gloom. Sure enough they huddle inside, but this time he uses a long stiff reed to harass them out. When he straightens it's with two in hand, one of which has already been beheaded, while the other he carries squirming towards Ani, held by it's miniscule head. "Tiny brains; tiny thoughts. I'm not sure they even /know/." Seani smiles after Khorde, barely given time to offer him the grasses she's collected. His departure, though, leaves her free to take Tom by the arm, leading him so that they can both meet Xavior half-way. As used to island life as they are, neither is perturbed by the squirming creatures. "You're probably right," Ani agrees. "Anyway. If we don't eat, we die. I'd rather eat." Tom makes a face, though that seems to have less to do with the creatures than to do with the fact that he's being dragged around. "I prefer them dead, and in my belly," he says, without glancing at either of the pair. Xavior pinches his fingers together and the crawlie's head pops, spurting a thin stream of fluid to drip down knobby knuckles. It is then offered up as a raw delicacy to Tom. "We'll have extras." The little pouch bulges giving visual evidence of the truth. His curious gaze flicks between them, absorbing silent signals and nuances that feed an easy smile. Tomaeran's face says it all: gross. But just in case that wasn't enough, he takes a hasty (and soon regretted: he winces, arms wrapping around his middle gingerly) step back, shaking his head. "That's disgusting. I only ever touch things that have been properly cooked. I'm no savage." Seani looks amused, though she attempts to hide it behind her hand; her eyes give her away, though. "You know what he's like, Xavior. Never mind: more for dinner. With winter coming, I'm sure we'll all appreciate it." Maybe Xavior does know better and was having a little fun, but it's hard to tell what lies behind the steady mask of his smile. "Okay," it's dropped into the stained pouch with the others. What might not be missed is the concern that crinkles the tanned leather about his vivid eyes as he watches Tom. "You know, soaking in the cold waters will help lessen the pain." An absent gesture is thrown at the sea. Seani, too, looks concerned: he might be her ex-husband, and everyone might know that there's good reason for that, but she's far too nice to be pleased that he's in pain. "You should try that," she puts in, before Tom can speak for himself. "I don't like it; you need to look after yourself." Tom's response is a snort: "Ani, you sound like my mother. There is /no/ way I'm getting in that water; it's freezing cold. I don't see how that would work, anyway." His sulkiness is unusual, though the glower he aims at both of them is not. Xavior's disposition is impervious to glowers. If anything, it might even kick up the brightness of that smile a notch. "It does plenty, but most notably it'll lessen the swelling, which in turn will lessen the constriction." Rawboned shoulders shrug away the unwanted advice. Like Khorde, the shaggy man hones his focus on the agreeable female. "I'd say that is a compliment. Mothers are a gift gone too soon." Seani is too used to Tom to be concerned by his glower; she gives him an unreadable glance, and then turns her attention back to Xavior. There's a distant sadness in her expression as she agrees, "They are. I say that - and mine only died a few turns past. I miss her, though. I'll take it as a compliment, then. Thank you, Tom." Tom snorts, but he's too busy taking shallow breaths to say much more than that immediately. A few moments later: "So instead, I will catch a fever and die of that. Charming. I'm sure /my/ mother will love to lose another child so quickly." Xavior isn't quick enough to hold down the corner of his mouth that flicks up in response to Tom's dramatics, so he works the sentiment around until it's molded into familiar innocence. "Actually, you don't get fevers from cold. Dry off quickly afterwards and you'll stave off any chance." A quick switch of topic is thrown out to distract from something Tom clearly doesn't enjoy being educated on. One of those stones hanging from his narrow hip is tapped, "I found a missing tone. I've almost got a full range of notes." Excitement animates the man's features well beyond the norm. Tomaeran's response to all of that? An eyeroll and a huffed breath. "I don't have time to listen to all of this," he states, self-important and pompous. "Seani. /Come/. I'm going to walk you back to the settlement, now." Perhaps surprisingly, Ani protests. "I can walk back by myself, Tom. I think I'd like to stay out a while longer; I'm interested in these notes. You go." It's not the answer Tom is seeking, and for a moment, he looks genuinely angry. But-- they're not married anymore. He shakes his head, gives both a scornful glance, and then stalks away. Carefully. Xavior remains pointedly silent through it all, shifting his focus to smoothing out an uncomfortable flesh dimpling wrinkle at his waist until Tom starts away, and then his gaze pops back up to watch the man's progress. His grinning eyes seek out the man's feet, watching where they're placed, mentally plotting his path before each step is taken. When Tom nears a rock that Xavior knows is prone to falling off-kilter, his breath is held in radiant anticipation. Will he remember, or won't he? In that interim Ani is not forgotten, but put on hold. A low escape of breath from Ani, as Tom gets far enough to be out of earshot for it, is probably a sigh of relief, though her expression remains as even as ever: she smiles. It's her default. Having done that, though, she turns her head to follow Xavior's path; her gaze narrows slightly as she, too, ends up watching her ex-husband's progress. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), he makes it past that rock without incident; a few moments later, he's back on the sand, and wandering up the path towards the settlement without so much as a glance back. Seani's expression is inscrutable. As Tom steps past the pitfall, Xavior breathes out a tepid sigh, which makes it impossible to tell whether it was in relief or disappointment. Turning back to Ari, his smile returns to its former characteristic glory. The rock is untangled from the makeshift seaweed carrier and presented to her. "Give 'er a try." A tiny wooden mallet carved from driftwood is offered out as well. Ani's brow furrows as she's offered the rock and mallet, her gaze glancing between the pair as she bites at her lip. "Show me?" she asks, after a moment, glancing up to (hopefully) meet Xavior's gaze, her expression questioning. "I used to spend all of my time cooking, and recently I've been learning how to teach the children from Emmeline, but-- this kind of thing is new to me." Her smile, at least, suggests that she's more than willing to try. Xavior does indeed meet up with her gaze, flashing her a dose of warmth before nodding agreeably. The long thin shale is held between the light pinch of fingers and thumb, keeping it well away from the palm for the best chance to emanate vibrations throughout. Then the mallet is knocked dead center, eliciting a mute thunk the first time. The stone is given a slight juggling adjustment within the fingers, and then it is struck again to permeate a high C. This serves to reignite that excitement. "I've been looking for that note for /turns/." Both are held out invitingly. "It'll sound much better when placed within the instrument, but you can still play with it now." Those brows remained furrowed right up until that note is sounded; then, it's like the sun breaking through the clouds, Ani's whole face lighting up with it. "Oh!" she says, obviously charmed. This time, she's much more willing to accept both of the offered items, and, after a moment of intense concentration, have a go of her own. "What a beautiful sound," she says this, shifting position of the piece of shale so that she can give it an appraising glance. "I love music. I wish we had more ways to make it. How many notes have you got, now?" "All but one now!" The illusive pitch. "I've actually have multiples of many of the others, so I make minor adjustments now and again." Xavior remains enthusiastic, his passion and inclination towards the positive serve to keep him on track. "I'll find it soon. This one," he points to the stone she's holding, "came from an area on the other island," a general direction is waved to, "that I hadn't explored well enough apparently." A wry grin pulls the strings of his shoulders into a sheepish shrug. "Maybe it'll have the other." Ani offers Xavior back his piece of shale and his mallet, though she remarks as she does so, "And then what will you do? If there's no more hunting to be done? It seems to me," she pauses, cheeks slightly pink, and adds hastily, "not that al I know all that much about these things. But. It seems like maybe the hunting is part of the fun? And once it's done..." she trails off, brows raised in curiosity: she seems genuinely interested to hear the answer. "Perhaps you'll have to find another project to work on." Xavior leaps to an easy answer, "I will make another! As I said, some of the pieces are already in hand." Concentration is put into carefully returning the stone to its temporary holster alongside another chunk of stone in a similar shape, which he taps with the mallet once the job is done. It gives off a much deeper hum. "The more music, the more merry." Besides, he's always got fifteen backup projects going at the same time. That makes Ani laugh; grinning back at Xavior, she tells him, "That makes sense. It's nice to have projects like that to work on, I suppose." She wraps her arms about herself; the wind is beginning to come up, and the afternoon is cooling down as nightfall gets steadily closer. Reluctantly; "I suppose I should get back up to the settlement. I promised I'd help with dinner, since I spent the afternoon down here. Will you walk back with me, or shall I leave you to it?" A wistful gaze washes throughout the region as thoughts roll around in Xavior's head. In the end, innocent chivalry wins out and he cocks an arm like the gentleman that he isn't. "Need ta get the crawlies into the pot." Then a memory floats to the surface, causing the slender man to flush out a fresh grin. "Oh yes, look what washed up." This kind woman gets to have a rare peak into one of the man's usually guarded secrets. A small beaded patch of suede is ferreted out of another pouch and held out as he positions for the walk ahead. "Found it on the other island. Looks to have been in the water awhile." The fragile threads have been recently carefully tied off so that tiny wooden beads won't be lost. Seani seems genuinely pleased to be accompanied on the walk back, and accepts Xavior's arm graciously, though for all her manners she's as commonly born as it gets. Surprised - but also impressed - she takes the piece of suede from him as they walk, examining it with obvious interest. "What lovely work," she murmurs, turning it over and over in her hand. "I suppose when you have lots of wood you can make this kind of thing. And-- whatever the fabric is made of. They must have /wonderful/ things, out there." Her sigh is more than a little dreamy. Xavior watches her face, allowing his gentle gaze to brush over her features, delighting in the wistful manner with which she has arranged them. Her hand is patted as he lightly states, "We have wonderful things /here/." It's no secret, his love of the island, from stone to sky and everything in between. The wonder in her hand is nodded to, "Keep it." The gift is offered in a kind tone that resonates cheerfully with the last letter. Seani's cheeks turns pink, and she ducks her head; still, she holds on to the piece of suede. In a low voice; "Thank you. I'll treasure it." And of the rest, as they walk up the path and back towards the settlement? "You're right, though: we do. I love it here. There's such /beauty/, everywhere." And so the conversation continues, all the way back home. |
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