"Flickers of Memory" Log Date: 2/25/00 Log Cast: Tance, Kesya Log Intro: It has been quite some time now since Tance and Kesya have been miraculously reunited--a happy circumstance brought about by Kesya awakening from the coma into which she'd fallen after the disastrous vacation she and Tance had taken to Verron IV. Ever since then, the two Singers have had the odd experience of their roles being reversed, with Kesya the fragile one who needs care, and Tance the strong shoulder upon which she can rely. It is a task Tance has gladly assumed, even as he does not quite realize that it gives him a purpose and an energy that bring him much, much closer to the young man he once was than he has been in many years. But there's something else at work in Tance as well, something that neither he nor his beloved Jade quite grasp even in the idyll of their time alone together in the Ranges.... ============================================================================== MUSH time: Fri Feb 25 22:08:02 2000 Current time of day is: evening Next time of day change will occur in 1 hour(s), 51 minute(s) and 58 seconds The current state of the tide near JPF is 'medium in'. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note: Game time is North American Central Time. ============================================================================== It's been a long, hard hunt in the Ranges thus far -- and the fact that Jade's been fighting a bug hasn't exactly made the exertion any easier. But Tance, hardened by two centuries of seeking crystal in the wilds of Ballybran, has bore this latest run into the Milekeys without complaint as always, and if anything, he's simply taken on a larger share of the work any time his beloved has looked to be flagging in strength. That their latest find has proven to be white has raised his spirits some today, though... and distracted him, more or less, from the way his mind has seemed to wander for the last several hours. Something about cutting white crystal, maybe; more than once today, he's seemed to find it stunningly familiar, with bits and pieces of images of other white claims bubbling across his consciousness. Once, he could have sworn he'd heard Kesya crying out delightedly over the color of the stuff -- only to turn round and find out she wasn't behind him, and had in fact returned to the sled for a fresh carton. _You're old, Vokrim,_ he chides himself lightly as he staggers back with you to the sled tonight, mopping a grimy hand across his brow. _Any surprise your head is wandering?_ Your green-skinned fiancee struggles into the battered sled you're sharing, dragging a carton of much-needed white crystal behind her. She does look a little pale, as much as a Taal'en native can, anyway, and over the course of the day she's had to stop for breaks, though she claims to be feeling better than she did at JPF. But maybe too, that's just to keep you from worrying... a habit of yours with which Kesya is intimately aware. "Can I get a hand with this, love?" Kesya's voice interrupts your thoughts, and as you look over it's evident she's struggling to strap the carton into place. "I don't suppose we'll have enough, with this claim? For the wedding, I mean. It's a great find, after that string of blue and green." Kesya Although taller than most women at 5'9, it is Kesya's exotic colouring that makes her stand out in a crowd, and marks her as native of Taal'en. Her skin is a deep forest green, though more creamy in appearance than most because of the Human blood in her background -- also evident by her silvery-blue eyes, which lack the slits commen to most Taal'en natives. Thick sea-green hair frames her narrow face in loose waves, softening her sharp features, and is done in small braids that gather at the nape of her neck. She has a quick and friendly smile, her small teeth appearing sharp and stark white against her dark skin. Her frame is willow-thin, her delicate bones giving her something of a childlike appearance were it not for the lithe way she carries herself. Her voice has a musical lilting quality to it, perhaps from the Taal'en trill that hasn't quite faded from years on Ballybran. Kesya seems to have lost weight. A lot of weight. Her rake-thin form is draped in the sturdy black fabric of the standard Guild shipsuit, the Heptite Guild black dodecahedron visibly prominent above the left breast pocket. Frankly, the outfit probably looks more filled out on a hangar than on Kesya, her gaunt cheeks a frank reminder of how long she's been inactive. Silver dolphins twine about the ring finger of her left hand, the body of one flanked in black crystal, the body of the other rimmed in green. Tiny fragments of deep blue form each creature's visible eye. Kesya appears to be mentally elsewhere. "Sure, I'm on it," is Tance's rumbled reply. He steps over to prop up a side of that carton for you, helping you ferry it over to the storage rack steadily enough. But as he does his dark eyes might be noted to seem a trifle distracted. Resonance in his system, perhaps. _Blue and green..._ The words catch somewhere in the back of his head, and for a moment he pauses, staring at you oddly, as your still almost delicately thin form shifts somehow in his sight. You're younger, fuller-figured, and although you're still in the sled before him your jumpsuit is not black, it's blue... Kesya glances up at her partner, her silver-blue eyes warming as her hand brushes yours. She's gained back a little of the weight she'd lost during her coma, but Quinn did say the recovery process would take a while, and this illness -- odd, Singers don't get ill -- that's struck Kesya certainly doesn't help. Her fond expression falters as she catches your gaze, and her gaze narrows. "Tance? Is everything alright?" Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever odd stupor has seized him, at least enough for Tance to blink a few times and scrub his skinned knuckles across his eyes. Then he manages a small crooked grin, answering hoarsely, "Sorry, honey... guess my head's just been wanderin' off without me more than usual today. Resonance, maybe." "You looked like you'd seen a ghost," Kesya says jokingly, one slender, bone-like hand reaching to stroke your arm gently. Concern is still evident behind her eyes. "You've been having those strange looks all day." Stiffly, Tance slides his cutter off his shoulder and drops it with care down to rest upon the floor of the sled; it's not really proper procedure, that device upon which his livelihood depends _ought_ to be placed upon its rack, but Vokrim has more urgent things on his mind at the moment. Like reaching to sling an arm around you to pull you a little closer... though as he does, his brow furrows under the strands of gray-shot brown falling across it. "Ahh, Jade honey," he hedges, "y'know how my head gets when the crystal's singing. I probably thralled." And he smiles again, sheepishly. "Yeah," Kesya murmurs into your chest, her too-thin body shifting to rest against yours. A dry cough prevents her from speaking more, but after a moment she takes a deep breath and leans heavily against you. "So many things worry me these days," she says in a quiet murmur. If it weren't for your symbiont-enhanced hearing, you might not have caught it. "... I guess I can't help but add you to the list, sometimes." Your Jade turns up her chin, seeking a kiss. Quite willingly, Tance slips one rough hand underneath your chin, while the other settles comfortably at your hip. His lips lower towards yours; for a fraction of an instant he pauses, as if pondering. And then he's kissing you, with surety and confidence. If there's one thing he's not only not forgotten over the years but in fact appears to have kept in sharp practice, it's how to kiss. And when he comes up for air, he murmurs roughly, "Fetching shade of blue on you, though... you still got that jumpsuit, sweetheart, or'm I gonna hafta buy you another in that color?" Kesya seems lost in your embrace, more than willing to be the object of her fiancee's attentions. Her time with Tance has been so spotted with episodes of ill-fortune that she's learned to take these quiet, treasured moments when she can. Particularly with this bug she's gotten now -- she'll have to ask Quinn about that, because that just does /not/ make sense -- and a multitude of other worries... that all fly out of her head when Tance turns those soft brown eyes on her. Like he's doing now. Kesya smiles, and opens her mouth to reply, but then says instead, "Sweetling, I don't own a blue jumpsuit. They're all black." Tance's brow crinkles a little further. "You don't? Coulda sworn -- remembered it on you as clear as day..." Bemused, he trails off, lifting a hand again to rub at one eye. "Deep, rich, midnight-y blue kinda color. Gold-tone zippers... enh." Then he shakes his head, grinning vaguely. "Old karker's head's off again." Then, a little more seriously, he takes a steady look at _you_. "How're you feelin', anyway? You didn't get too worn out, didja?" Kesya has her head cocked to one side, and is looking at you as though wondering if you're going to pull the next day's meal from your ear. "No, no," she says, shaking her head wearily. One green hand tugs through her hair, loosening knots made days ago. "I'm just eager to get this claim done. Finally, we find something worth more than a few credits!" Kesya's hand closes in a triumphant fist, before loosening again as she smothers a cough. "Still feeling a little nauseous, though. I might skip dinner again." "Mmm." It's half noise of acknowledgement -- and half noise of worry, as Tance takes in that cough of yours. He modulates his disapproval by running his palm along the small of your back, though, and he advises, "You better put somethin' in ya, Jade, gotta keep your strength up. The caterer'll do chicken broth if nothin' else, if you're not up for anything complicated. Me" -- and abruptly he grins, boyishly -- "I could use a beer. Want me to dial ya up somethin'?" The older Singer beeps your nose with one finger, then reluctantly pulls away from you to turn towards the catering unit. Kesya can't help but grin at that, and she grabs at the offending finger with one hand but snatches at air, instead. Propping herself up on one pillow, she rests her head against her arm and draws a blanket up, too. "I'll try some broth, I guess," she says lamely. "Or fruit, if there's some left. I don't know what I'd do without you here, Tance. Probably end up sleeping outside the sled door." The green-skinned singer adds a wink to that, indicating she can't be feeling too terrible. "And I ain't even gonna comment," Tance drawls, "upon the scariness of that." It's not exactly as if the man is a model of attentiveness to his own health, after all. Still, though, he's certainly solicitous of yours, and after a few minutes and a slap in just the right place to get the slightly cantankerous catering unit talking to him, he wanders over with a cold beer crooked in his elbow, a hot lidded cup of broth in one hand, and a bowl of what's left of the strawberries in his other. Lowering himself down to sit on the deck beside the bunk you've claimed, he holds out the broth for you. "Though I believe the old chestnut about shoes on other feet comes to mind here, honey." "Oh, tosh," Kesya says, warming her hands around the cup with a grateful smile in your direction. Her brows crease in mock-admonishment though, and one hand loosens its warm grip to waggle a finger at you. "You know ever since I woke up you've been making sure I do everything from getting my eight hours a night to eating my veggies. I don't even think my mother did that much, that from what little of her I still remember." A momentary frown is dismissed as she sticks out a booted foot. "Not that I mind, love. Going to make sure I wear my booties?" Tance grins, flipping the top off his beer with one hand, and gesturing with the forefinger of his other one at you, in a stern mock-fatherly admonishment. "You better believe it, girlie. Wear your galoshes in the mud, eat all your greens, growin' kids need their protein and all that." Then he winks one weathered dark eye, and commences to chug his beer. Kesya lets out a bark of laughter, almost upsetting her broth in the process. "Ooh," she groans, wincing as she sturdies the bowl against her chest. "Don't make me laugh like that. Hurts the head." There's a long moment of silence as the singer stirs her soup, her expression that of one lost in thought. "Tance, do you remember when we found your old computer files? You know, the entries you'd made as a new singer and such?" She's obviously expecting a 'no', but your Jade tends to toss these questions at you occassionally anyway. She might suppose it makes you feel better not to assume you'd forgotten everything. Tance again puts forth that boyish lopsided grin, lowering the beer to reach over to help you steady the soup, only to withdraw it to stroking your nearest knee instead. Then he blinks at your question, lifting a bemused gaze up to you. "I... yeah... I guess. A little. We did do that, didn't we." It's not entirely a question, and Tance's eyes turn thoughtful. Kesya turns thoughtful eyes upon you, watching you curiously over her soup. "You do remember? I guess... I guess I was just thinking of home. I almost forgot everything after the coma -- 'cept you, of course -- and it's been coming back in snatches, and now I feel almost like it was. But... I don't remember much of home. A face, here or there." Lifting the spoon to her lips, she blows the steam off the soup and takes a tenative sip. "Mm. Hot. But... I was thinking I might go back to the old files that I made as a new singer. Are you ever tempted to do that, these days?" "Yeah... I... think I remember it. Something about it..." Tance frowns to himself, abruptly hearing his own voice echoing in the back of his mind, roaring, 'I'll touch those files again when all nine hells freeze over!' Unconsciously he mouths the words, and then his frown grows a little larger. "I... how... how far back?" He finally manages to blurt this out in gruff tones, even as he finds his thoughts momentarily overwhelmed by a memory of screen after screen of file entries, and his voice uttering decades-old words, now rough with age, now youthful and rich and full... "For you, pretty far," Kesya says between sips of broth. Those blue eyes still watch you cautiously, somehow sensing there's something subtly different about her Tance. "There was something about your past... I can't remember. My head's about as spotty as yours, these days. It's... somewhat disconcerting." _Hot karking -damn-! I'm in..._ _I'll always remember, and keep what you gave me..._ _Meggie's gone..._ _... that guarantee my safety..._ _... found my first black today..._ _Keep your karkin' head straight, old man..._ _... sailed a boat..._ Echoes. Tance shakes his head, trying to clear it, trying to figure out where the repeating wraiths of his own voice are coming from. "Dis... concerting," he mumbles distractedly. "Yeah. Yeah, it is... um... what were you sayin', honey?" Kesya sets her bowl aside, the broth forgotten as she sits up and takes your hands in hers. "Tance, you don't look yourself," she says, in an obvious understatement. "Tell me what's happening? You haven't acted this way before, when you were crystal-mazed." His beer just as forgotten as your broth, Tance blinks several times more as he peers blankly up at you. "I..." And he starts to shake his head again, before changing his mind and reaching a hand up to bat lightly at his own ear. "I must... be tired, honey, I... feel... little strange..." "Okay," Kesya answers uselessly, her warm hands curled around yours. "Maybe it's this bug thing I've got... or whatever. Singers don't get sick, but... none of this is making sense." She leans over a bit to catch your gaze, her lips quirking reassuringly. "Tell you what. We're almost done this claim... we'll polish it off tomorrow, and then fly straight back and pester Quinn into telling us what's wrong with us." Wearily, Tance chuckles. His grizzled head leans over against your side then, and he breathes out, "I can tell ya what the pup's gonna say. He's gonna say Singers don't need to kill themselves in the Ranges, we're overworkin' ourselves, and ought to take time off." Kesya pulls you over toward her, helping to leverage you onto the smallish bed these sleds allow. With one arm curled about you, the other reaches for the blanket and tugs it overtop. "He might," Kesya admits, snugging into the crook of your shoulder. "... Or he might have something more productive to say. Maybe he can tell me why I'm not finding black anymore, too. That'd be productive." As weariness takes hold of her, Kesya's words begin to slur a bit and mesh together. Tance'd stopped worrying a long time ago about such niceties as whether he's still wearing boots when he stretches out for a snooze in the Ranges. Now, though, he smiles at you as you pull him up to join you under the blanket, shifting about stiffly until he gets into as comfortable a position as he can manage. "Ahh, honey, white ain't exactly anything to sneeze at. Maybe our luck's pickin' up." Then the seamed lines of his features settle into a mock-grimace. "He'll probably say that too." "Mmmm," is all that comes from Kesya's side of the bed for the moment. Then, it appears as though she's not asleep, quite yet. "I know. But I miss it." Snugging one arm across your chest, she nestles closer to you and then lifts her head enough to give you a kiss. "Sweet dreams." "Dreams," Tance murmurs back, sounding vaguely, oddly shaken... but then that ghost of disconcertment leaves his voice as he pulls you close to him, turning his face into your hair and striving to blank his strangely crowded mind with your scent. And the beer he can still taste on his tongue. And the promise, for his weary limbs, of sleep. [End log.]