Log Date: 12/20/98, 12/29/98 Log Cast: Neva, Tance Log Intro: The quiet interlude for Tance and Neva on board the _Alexi Styvesant_ has continued -- quiet, if nothing else, simply due to the fact that their symbionts are cheerfully trying to keep them asleep as long as Passover is going on back on distant Ballybran. Tance can't quite say he _minds_; after all, he has an opulent suite in which to stay, and the wealth of books and the fireplace by which to rest are proving surprisingly soothing to his soul. Especially when, at least in his subconscious and in his dreams, he can't quite banish the memory of his _last_ Passover, and his dreams grow restless enough that he begins to shun the state of sleep... ---------- Neva's Suite Luxury, this rooms reeks of it, or at least as much as you can cram into a room on a spaceship. The walls are covered with wood panels, each set with a differing pattern of hardwood inserts. When taken all together, this creates a panorama that is breathtaking. However with that we have just started. A deep shag carpet covers the floor, and hanging high above this there is a brass and crystal chandelier. Of course the furnishings are also of very high quality. Deep leather couches and armchairs are placed at random about this spacious room. The walls are a similar story. One wall is covered with a sprawling bookcase, filled with -real- leather bound books. Another wall is dominated by a large screen holovid, that is when the wood covering it has been retracted. Another wall empty except for a small curtained porthole. Beyond this the deep black of space can be seen. Finally, the most enigmatic feature of the room is revealed. Set into the last wall there is the facade of a brick fireplace. Within this there burns a gas fire, constantly flickering it's flames, and casting most interesting shadows on the room's contents - especially with the chandelier high above. Obvious exits: Bathroom Bedroom Out Neva steps into the room from the bedroom. Neva has arrived. With a melodramatic yawn but an unfaked sleepy almost-stagger, Neva pulls open the bedroom door and steps into the main room, just finishing up the buttons on her shirt. "'Morning." Is it morning? Isn't it? Does anybody actually care? She just woke up, so therefore it's morning. "You awake?" Perhaps surprisingly, Neva's impulsively fetched guest is actually awake, though he looks no less disheveled than he had when the younger Singer last left him. He is once more in the chair that's been parked near the dancing flames in the fireplace, but he must have gotten up and moved at least once, for he's got a mug of something hot and steaming and smelling strongly of coffee, and he's also got a book -- the second of the Jipao volumes. He starts when Neva enters the room, his brown gaze snapping up and blinking a few times at her arrival. "Any good?" asks Neva, most likely referring to the book as she treads over--in bare feet, it might be noted--and deposits herself in the neighboring chair. One might suspect that it is rather enjoyable, for Tance's dark eyes show signs of animation. But one might also wonder exactly about the section of the book he's reached, for at Neva's question, he turns gruff and shy, saying, "It's, uh, it's kept me up okay, girlie..." Another, smaller yawn. "Nothing could have kept me awake, last few days. No wonder Singers stay so young, getting this much beauty sleep one time a year." Neva giggles softly, and brings her legs up cross-legged. "What page are you on?" "I, uh, wasn't keepin' track," mutters the rumple-haired man in the other chair, as he gulps down a mouthful of coffee from his mug. The room is full of the rich scent of the stuff; this, no doubt, is part of the reason why Tance Vokrim is actually conscious. You feel the resonance tingling in your blood. "How many cups of that have you /had/?" asks Neva, peering over somewhat suspiciously. "Whole room smells of it. You'll be awake for a month and a half!" "I, uh, lost track of that, too," says the older Singer, glancing sheepishly at his mug, and then at the book. He's starting to blush a bit, now, and he doesn't meet his young companion's eye. Grinning, Neva shifts her own gaze slightly in an attempt to catch his. "Memory's that bad, is it? Naw, s'okay. I do the same thing, when I get too caught up, and mine's not /supposed/ to be bad." Not that she relies on this, of course. Tance turns the book about in his hands, glances down at the page, and then abruptly blushes further. "Didn't wanna go to sleep anyway," he mumbles. The younger Singer tilts her head. "Why not? Everybody sleeps at Passover." Except a good portion of the galaxy, but pay no attention to that detail. "Didn't... wanna sleep, is all," is Tance's gruff reply. He finishes off the coffee, squints blearly down at the mug, and then abruptly rises out of his chair, leaving the blanket to fall in a pile of colorful quilted squares on the chair, leaving the book to fall propped open upon the chair's arm. The older Singer shuffles across the carpeted floor towards the kitchen area, where the coffee scent is strongest, and his gait is a bit unsteady. Turning, Neva rests arm and cheek against the back of her chair. "Think you could get me a cup, too?" she asks, tacking on a polite, "Please?" That wins Neva a grunt in reply. Tance pours up a couple of mugs of coffee this time, and comes shuffling back without asking the young woman if she wants any additives to the stuff. He blinks in seeming random spurts as he approaches and proffers the cup, and there are the slightest subliminal tremors to his hand. If you pay attention to it, the crystal resonance can be heard coursing through your body at all times. Gingerly, Neva takes the cup in both hands, and nods appreciatively. "Thank you," she offers, inhaling deeply and then taking a tentative sip. "Mmm. Very good." "Good, yeah... whole place is, uh, good," Tance mumbles. He doesn't sit down again, even as he starts gulping down his own mug's contents in motions that appear slightly jerky, unconscious, reflexive. "So you're glad I brought you, hmm?" prods Neva with a smile. Another sip, and she relaxes back into her chair. "I'm glad I did, anyway. Would have been awful to have to spend my first real vacation alone." Tance admits roughly, "Like the books." And he starts pacing, with a kind of energy one might find surprising during the Passover... but then again, the man is practically inhaling his coffee. After watching for a few moments, Neva takes another sip and allows the coffee-holding hands to sink down in her lap. "You should relax a little." "Been relaxin'!" Tance immediately protests. Pace. Gulp. Pace. Gulp. "Are not. You're as high-strung as a violin. Look, you're pacing," Neva points out with a small one-handed gesture. "All that caffeine." "Been readin'," grumbles the older Singer, gesturing swiftly and shakily at the fire, his abandoned chair, the quilt and the book. "By the fire. Relaxin', like you told me. Or... th'other girlie. Don't remember..." He trails off, slowing his pacing for a few moments, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. Head shakes slowly, and Neva sets the mug off to the side. "And just a little bit of caffeine to keep you awake? How many pots? Or don't you remember that, either?" Voice, however, remains far from scathing--more amused than anything else. You can hear crystal resonance rushing between your ears. "Three," mutters Tance, his already gruff tone turning testy. His answer is prompt, but as soon as he delivers it, there's a slight hint of uncertainty in his dark eyes; perhaps he doesn't quite trust that answer. He tries to cover it up immediately by adding, "I didn't wanna go back to sleep, okay? Somethin' wrong with that?" The answer itself is ignored for a moment. "Why didn't you want to go back to sleep?" asks Neva, with the very slightest of hesitance. "Couldn't have kept /me/ awake there, for awhile, with anything..." Vokrim frowns, looking decidedly uneasy, and whirls about abruptly to gulp down the last of his current cup of coffee. Swiftly, he crosses the room to the discreetly located recyc unit and thrusts the empty cup into it as if it might scald his hand if he holds onto it too long. His back remains to his young companion, and it takes him a moment before he barks out, "Just... didn't wanna sleep. Didn't wanna sleep..." Touchy subject. Right. Neva will remember that, hopefully. "It's okay, Tance. I understand," she murmurs, just barely audible. Does she actually? Maybe, it's hard to tell, as it's a pretty general reassurance-phrase. Still clearly restless, still clearly in the grip of the caffeine, the older Singer stalks back across the room. But still, Tance doesn't meet Neva's concerned gaze. "Dreams," he mutters after a moment as he paces. "Can't remember 'em. Wake up bad, though..." "I get nightmares sometimes, too." Neva smiles, somewhat encouragingly, and gestures to the chair again. Just in case he feels like sitting down. Right. "They're just dreams, though. Doesn't mean anything." Tance does look at the chair, but doesn't settle into it, not yet. His weathered visage reddens a little, suspiciously, enough that one might wonder if he's admitting more than he feels comfortable doing. "So, well," he begins, then he pauses uncertainly before growling out as if repetition will help get the point across, "didn't... wanna sleep..." Yet again, he rubs the back of his hand across his eyes, before shoving it through his unkempt hair. Crystal resonance is humming pleasantly in your body. "Sit down?" offers Neva, allowed now. Him just standing there is making /her/ restless. "You don't have to sleep if you don't want to. But you don't need /that/ much caffeine. It's... not good for you." Obviously, the 'stunt your growth' routine isn't going to work for a man who's as old as Tance. Tance shoots an edgy glance to the young woman, then grudgingly, heavily, drops down into the chair. "Oughtta pass soon," he rasps. "The Passover... shake this..." "I hope so." This, at least, is quite sincere . Neva smiles slightly. "Not long, now. Feels like it's been forever, already." Now that he's down, though, Tance's head lolls backwards along the leather-upholstered back of the chair. Caffeine or not, his body is sending signals that sitting down is good, and the restless movements of his hands are starting to slow, grow less frequent. "Don't lemme doze off," he abruptly mutters, something of the roughness leaving his voice. A small pause. "Well, what do you propose I do to keep you awake?" asks Neva, grinning softly as she leans forward. "Maybe there's some particular loud, raucous song you'd like to hear over and over again?" That actually provokes a one-sided smile out of Tance; one corner of his mouth quirks upward. "What, me, remember a song? I ain't got no memory, remember, girlie?" "Because of the symbiont, or because you don't want to remember?" asks Neva, tone innocent of implications. Tance frowns, his eyes coming open, and he sits sharply up. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demands. Relaxed--confident. Neva sits back in her chair, looking up towards the ceiling as if for inspiration. "How often do you record the things that happen? Like, say, on this trip." Crystal resonance is humming pleasantly in your body. "I _got_ a datapad," Tance snaps, starting to ferret through the pockets of his thoroughly rumpled white shirt. "Use it. When I remember..." "How many times?" asks Neva, again. "How many entries on this trip?" Tance grimaces, and by way of reply activates the little device, which comes awake with an obedient chirp. He stabs at its little keyboard, and then barks, "Five! And one a little while ago, too." A brow lifts, honestly surprised by this number. "Five? Really? Well, I'm proud of you then," offers Neva. Tance's lined features curl up into a sullen, embarrassed little grimace, and he thrusts the datapad at Neva silently, not offering any vocal reply. The screen, indeed, displays five recently dated entries into the pad's journal program, patiently awaiting viewing, uploading into the Guild's primary computers, or whatever else might be desired of them. After just looking over them in the barest confirmation, Neva hands the datapad back. "I'm glad you're going to remember. I've made quite a few entries, myself. I don't want to ever forget anything." "Wanna... remember the books," Tance mutters, grabbing at the datapad with an unconscious swiftness that might be born of the caffeine... and might be born of the device serving him almost as a personal talisman. He avoids Neva's gaze again as he punches the thing off and places it gingerly in a pocket. "And the, uh, place. Fancy. Don't get fancy much..." "Neither do I," admits Neva, glancing around. "It's positively opulant. I'm kind of glad to be going home where I won't be afraid to spill or anything." You feel resonance tingling in your bones. [Scene incomplete.]