"Flickers of Memory, Part 2" Log Date: 3/1/00 Log Cast: Kesya, Tance Log Intro: The world takes on a very narrow focus for Singers coming in out of the Ranges, reducing down to the essential needs to sell crystal, to get injuries attended, to soak away excess resonance. Or in the case of Tance and Kesya, coming in after a long trip through the Milekeys, to sleep. The two stumble through the motions of getting their crystal safely sold and their gear and sled safely stowed, and accordingly do not notice that something has shifted in the world as they know it down on the levels of the JPF where the Singers have their quarters.... ============================================================================== MUSH time: Wed Mar 1 21:55:45 2000 Current time of day is: evening Next time of day change will occur in 2 hour(s), 04 minute(s) and 15 seconds The current state of the tide near JPF is 'medium in'. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note: Game time is North American Central Time. ============================================================================== After a long trip out to the Ranges -- it must've been a few weeks, but who ever keeps track anymore -- Kesya As'shoriah and Tance Vokrim stumbled back to their suite, following the steady blip of lights on their keypads that most singers rely on when their memory begins to fade. To their surprise, the usually-faultless system led them to completely different quadrant, and to an unfamiliar door. The contents looked familiar though, and, not having the inclination or the energy to question it, Kesya and Tance made themselves comfortable in the bedroom, promptly falling asleep. Whether it was theirs or not, it was still a lot more comfortable than that bunk in Kesya's sled. The holo-lights in the room begin to glow, indicating morning has come and is proceeding cheerily on its way toward noon. Kesya stirs slightly, letting out a mild groan in protest as the light hits her eyes. She can't sleep forever though, and as she blinks the sleep from her eyes, she's struck by the realization that there's something slighty... off... about the room. "Tance?" she mumbles sleepily, peering about. The pictures look the same. "You awake?" Tance has always been a heavy sleeper -- and this past night has been no particular exception. Fortunately, he hasn't snored much, though he doesn't bother to lift his head out of the depths of his pillow even as he mumbles thickly, "Wha...? Whazzit?" Slumber drops his voice down to the very bottom of his range, making it a husky near-bass rumble. Kesya slips her legs off the side of the bed, favouring her right arm with a wince. Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she gets to her feet and begins to examine the room in more detail... and that doesn't take long. Soon she's wandering out into the main rooms, and you can hear her padding from area to area. "Tance, 'member I thought the rooms were weird last night? Well, this isn't our suite." By the sound of her voice, she's either very confused or has come to the conclusion that someone has managed to play an astronomical practical joke. Tance is still half-buried under the blankets, and he turns without opening his eyes towards the place you'd occupied in the bed as you get up and wander off. One hand fumbles after you, and his first response to your arising is a small wordless noise of protest. Then his hand drops heavily down into the place where you'd lain, and he starts snoring again for a few minutes until you once more call his name. "Whuh?" he mumbles. "Sure it is. Got in. Key..." "Yeah," you can hear Kesya's voice only faintly, by virtue of your enhanced senses. And sleepily, those same senses tell you this really doesn't even smell like your suite. It's got a fresh, sterile scent. "But this still isn't ours. Holdon, the computer is flashing." Faint blips and beeps can be heard in the background, followed by a muffled curse as Kesya bumps her arm against something. Then only, "Well, I'll be storm-shocked. No wonder." At last, groggily, Tance lifts his tousled head a few miniscule centimeters out of the pillow and turns it in your direction. Sleepy brown eyes blink owlishly as the older Singer tries to wake up; something's strange here. Indeed, his senses _are_ beginning to register the difference of the suite into which the two of you have exhaustedly collapsed. "Jade? Whuz' goin' on?" Kesya's voice drifts out from the main room. "There was a... neuro -- neurotrophin? A something leak in your old suite." A small blip sounds as Kesya scrolls down the message. "Possibly toxic levels. So they switched us." At last her voice brightens, and Kesya's drawn, but cheerful, green face appears at the edge of the bedroom door. "Maybe that's why I've been sick this whole trip! I didn't catch anything after all!" "Neur... wha? What?" At last, with an effort, Tance hauls himself heavily up onto one elbow, rubbing a rough hand across his eyes to try to clear his vision. He blinks several times more, then at last seems to register that he has in fact fallen asleep in a different room than the one to which he's been accustomed for several years now. His eyes fly open, and he nearly rolls off the bed in his startlement. "This ain't our room," he blurts. "You noticed?" Kesya's voice holds a deep tone of amusement, and she comes forward to offer you a hand up, the other one held against her chest as she favours her arm. "It's a fresh one. A little bigger even, unless I miss my guess. It looked just enough the same when we walked in, with our things here, for us not to care." Clad in nothing but his pajama bottoms, Tance wobbles to his feet and peers about him blearily. He's still drawn by your warmth, too, and his hand rubs unconsciously along your shoulders as he peers in several directions. "Didn't notice last night," he mutters in bemusement. "Smells different. Feels different... what was that you were sayin', about... somethin' in my old rooms?" And somewhat more alert brown eyes turn to you now, his brows knitting over them. Kesya takes your hand with hers -- the good one, anyway -- and leads you over to the computer, where she dials up the last urgent message. "This was from weeks ago... before we hit the Ranges. It says... neuro... trophin... levels." Kesya shrugs one shoulder, the other held still lest she move her arm. "I don't know what that is, but they say it was a leak from the catering unit in the suite next to yours. Maybe we need to check in with medical on this one." Tance frowns down at the screen, scanning its words, and then frowning more intently once he's done so. "You still feelin' bad?" he asks gruffly, turning to peer down at you now. "If they cleaned it up and moved our stuff while we were gone shouldn't be a problem -- though there's gonna be hell to pay if any of our stuff is broke--" With that, he casts a stern glance around the room again, and a strangely piercing one, as well. His attention lingers on this object and that in view, as if he is inspecting it for any slight sign of change or damage. Kesya cocks her head to one side and then the other, trying to discern whether she still feels any lingering effects. "No... I'm feeling better, now. Not nearly so much of a headache. I wouldn't be surprised if it takes a while to get that stuff out of your system." She frowns a little then, walking to join you at your side as you inspect for damage. "How do /you/ feel?" "I'm fine," Tance mutters in that same gruff, absent tone. He doesn't stand still, wandering instead around the living room and staring hard at each piece of furniture and each painting on the wall he passes. As he does, he goes on, "Your arm's still lookin' a bit off though, hon, you better have that young pup Quinn take a look at it when we get a chance, before we go back out." Kesya settles herself into one of the oversized chairs, leaning against her left side so that her right doesn't get nudged. "I will," she says with a deep sigh. "But he's so--" Your beloved stops midsentence, peering over toward you with a quizzical gaze. "Since when do you ever remember Quinn's name?" That makes Tance glance back at you, his weathered brow crinkling. "It's his name, ain't it?" he replies, shaking his head ever so slightly, as if to clear it. Then he shoves a hand through his hair, again without thinking, trying to push sun-streaked and salt-and-peppered strands out of his eyes. "It is," Kesya agrees, brows crinkling a little bit. "But he's usually 'young pup' to you." Her smile warms then, and her voice holds a bit of a teasing note. "Usually the only name you remember is mine. Not that I mind, if your neurons are garnering a return." Tance's brown stare lingers on your painting of the two of you on that long-ago sailing trip as you speak -- and then, abruptly, he swings round to look at you, crossing the distance between you and your chair with an agility that belies his years. He goes down on his knees before you, eyes suddenly bright, voice suddenly dropping to an inviting rumble. "We should go sailin' again," he tells you. "That was fun... the wind and the water and everything. Remember?" And he tosses a nod up at the painting. "Remember paintin' that, honey?" Kesya looks up at the painting as though seeing it for the first time, her brows crinkling as she examines the lines of it. "I painted that?" It's been years -- may as well have been centuries -- since she's even picked up a sketch pad, but really, it must be here somewhere. It was all forgotten in the blur of her coma. "I... I guess I did. I think I remember... a boat, and sailing." She doesn't seem entirely too confident about it, but since waking, she's been that way about a lot of things that happened long ago. It just doesn't come up much, around you. Day-to-day is what comes up. "It's all in peices. My head, I mean." Letting out a wistful sigh, she studies the painting again. "We sure looked happy, didn't we?" "I can see it in my head," Tance croons, and the tone of it gives his voice an unexpected thrill of youth, rich and deep and warm. He seizes your good hand up impulsively in his own, caressing your palm and your fingers while he tells you, "We were at White Sands... you... you hauled me off just like that, tryin' to help me remember how to have fun, and... I _knew_ how to do it, you just reminded me! Sailin', I mean! And then you painted that for me, Jade. You can draw. Your sketchbooks -- they gotta be around here somewhere...!" Kesya can't help but giggle a little as she examines the painting. "Shards, but we were a mess! You look like you're about to start laughing, there." Taking a few steps toward the painting, she lifts a rake-thin hand to tentatively touch the canvas. "I can't believe I did this. How'd you... did you give me pencils, once?" Viewable items in this area: harbour sailors Framed by a border of rich, dark hardwood, this oil painting seems almost to come to life. The shoulders and backs of two people can be seen at the right, obviously soaked and disheveled -- but what really attracts the gaze is what those two are obviously looking at. A reflection stares back at them, and you can see in it the room they're standing in; a boathouse, sails spread to dry in the background. But this is not what the artist was painting. The gaze of the two in the reflection captures and holds yours, the expressions on their faces jubliant and completely carefree. A green-skinned woman, dressed in a soaked wetsuit, disheveled hair swept back from her delicate face, has one arm looped around the waist of an equally soaked man. He though, has a slight spattering of grey in his soaked and messy hairdo, his face seeming a bit more weathered. Though he also seems just in from a sail, his expression is what captivates the picture, and what evidently has captivated the two being painted as well. One of surprise, delight, and pure happiness, the artist has somehow managed to capture this pair in a wonderful moment... just looking at it makes the observer want to giggle aloud, for it tends to convey the same feeling right into the room. Tance goes to his feet again, following you, sliding an arm about you and breathing into your ear as he does so, "You make me remember how to laugh, Jade..." His voice trails off as his mind fills with echoes of his own merriment, his gaze lingering upon the painting but beginning to see something else. Ocean spray and wind tossing his beloved's iridescent locks, blue sky and blue water everywhere he looks. And he's laughing... and somebody, a Singer he hasn't seen in a hundred years since she went down in the Milekeys, is telling him a bawdy joke and he's laughing so hard he's crying... and he's found rich deep green for the first time in seven weeks and he's laughing out loud for the sheer joy of the jolt to his credit rating... and he's laughing... he's... Swaying all of a sudden, just a little. Kesya isn't aware of Tance's sudden surge in memories, so focused is she on regaining her own of this moment she's immortilized in the painting. There are tears wetting the edges of her eyes, so frustrating is it to not be able to remember, not be able to pull forth those images. How could Tance have stood it all these Turns? All she's aware of is his breath on her neck, his arm against her back, and the warmth of his voice. "We need to do that again," she murmurs, softly. "Maybe... maybe once we're married? We can go sailing again?" Her voice is almost desperate with the hope that's carried on it. But then you're swaying, and she grabs at your waist with her good arm. "Tance?" "Wh-what...?" Tance lurches against you, catches himself, and then stares down into your eyes as you abruptly haul his awareness back to here and now. "Jade?" "I'm here," your Kesya returns, her blue eyes searching your deep brown ones for any hint of what's going on inside your head. The supporting role is one she falls into easily... it's what marked the first stage of your relationship, and it makes her feel needed. In contrast, it's been harder for her to get used to relying on you since wakening. "Are you alright?" "I... I... was... we were sailing," Tance mumbles, blinking around him disorientedly now, one hand lifting to his head. "Was just there... I..." "You saw it?" Kesya's brows crease in a frown, and she leads you over to a chair. "Your memory is doing wonky things. I don't think I'm the only one who has to see Quinn soon. Here, sit." "I'm okay," Tance protests in petulant tones, even as you sit him down. "What else are you remembering?" Kesya winces as she forgets to support her arm, but settles onto the edge of the chair regardless. "Maybe this is a neuro--whatever thing." Despite his protests, it feels abruptly very good to Tance to just sit back in the chair, tilting his head backwards and rubbing a knuckle across his eyes. "How the kark should I know?" he mumbles. "I'm just a Singer, I ain't no neurologist... I just... bits and pieces, honey, they've been... firing off in my head...." "I didn't say you should know," Kesya replies gently, smoothing your peppered hair back with one hand. "But I vote we have some breakfast and then go visit Quinn. Even if only to fix my arm. Okay?" Yeah, right. Fix Kesya's arm, and then grill Quinn on the possible effects of those neurotrophinthingies. "I don't wanna hassle him," Tance grumbles. "I ain't sick... just... little scatter-headed is all, and that ain't hardly new." But he pauses nonetheless, staring back at you uncertainly. "But your arm needs settin'," he concedes then. And a ghost of a smile curls one side of his mouth. "And I'm hungry." That, perhaps, could be taken as a good sign. Even if Tance Vokrim's mind is playing tricks on him, there seems to be absolutely nothing wrong with his appetite. Evidently that thought has occured to your beloved, and her eyes warm to that smile of yours like fresh coals to a spark. Nothing can be too terribly wrong, so long as Tance is looking at her /that/ way. "Okay then," she says, standing to dial up the couple's favourite breakfast treat. Fruit-bedecked waffles appear in the catering unit, a luxury compared to what they'd both been eating in the ranges. And as she drizzles syrup generously overtop, it occurs to Kesya that whatever is causing Tance's sudden memory jumps... it might not be such a bad thing, in the end. [End log.]