Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Nov 11, 2006 17:15:26 GMT -5
Uncurling as the mainlander looked up abruptly, whites of his eyes visible, she moved slowly, very slowly as to not startle the man, it wouldn’t do to frighten him away when he could provide answers like what was that strange object he was putting away. She managed to slide from the bed and unfold to her full height, swaying only slightly from dizziness before slowly moving forward until a sharp noise from behind her made her crouch, popping her claws with a quick skizt, and narrowed eyes searching for the source. It confounded her, the clear…wood? No, it was smooth and cool to the touch as she moved forward and stroked the surface, pressing against the invisible barrier with a low rumble of curiosity; the sudden slam of the chair on the ground and scrambling from the other room had her curled and tense again, claws bared, one never knew what sort of weapons the mainlander savages had; invisible wood indeed.
She relaxed, however, as she realized the crashing came only from the fumbling of the man that had been reading, she stalked closer to the dresser; her head wasn’t fit for any more sudden rises or crouches. There it was, the strange thing the mainlander had been reading, he’d set it on the dresser; unable to contain her curiosity she sheathed the claws on one hand and picked it up gingerly by the binding, it was hard. Brow furrowing she sniffed the object, ran her fingers over it and despite all common sense; she was supposed to act a savage now wasn’t she, she bit the corner, wincing at the hardness.
Since the mainlander wasn’t looking she spared it a quirked brow and flipped it open, staring at the vaguely familiar gibberish on the pages; who’d waste paper with scribbles? She shook her head and set the object back, uncurling as the mainlander returned and muttered something she couldn’t quite understand; he didn’t look dangerous, but he smelled of fear. Best make him feel that she was harmless. She held up her remaining clawed hand, retracting the talons and keeping both of her hands in plain view, nice mainlander, good mainlander, see, I’m not going to hurt you…
Standing again, looking down into those eyes colored unlike any she’d ever seen; browns and golds and the very rare green were all her people had, never had anyone been born among the clans with eyes like the sea, and that hair…even the elders still had dark hair, till the day they died; curiosity got the best of her and she reached out, sliding a finger along one of those bright locks; it felt smoother than kitten’s plush; unlike the metal it resembled entirely. Her head tipped to the side and yet another ‘prrt?’ still puzzled by this man, he was so short; he must still be young, or were all mainlanders so small? Aware that she was being rude she offered a delicate snuffle of her nose as she pressed it against his, tipping her face to the side to brush her cheeks against the mainlanders, first one than the other, analyzing his scent all the while. Why was one so strange resonating with memory from her? No matter, she stepped back and crouched again, her legs were hurting, before quirking a brow. “Czhame-me Me’ing, houx’mem-ahoautl; O qxue eu ch’amo-o?”
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Taltor
Human
Scholar and Librarian
Posts: 15
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Post by Taltor on Nov 11, 2006 22:46:18 GMT -5
Taltor froze as the islander approached him, hands exposed and claws sheathed. What...what did she want? She didn't look violent, but you never knew. What if this was a trick? What should he do? When was Kaltro going to get back?! He tried to run away, but found himself rooted to the spot. He looked up into her eyes.
Time froze.
He felt another inexplicable wave of deja vu wash over him as their eyes met. He knew he had never met her before, but still there was this feeling... Suddenly, she was right in front of him. Taltor found his body was still unresponsive - he couldn't escape! He watched, dumbfounded, as she reached up and started stroking his hair. Strange, but people did seem to like touching his hair.... And then she touched her cheek to his....
Time froze, again. Taltor's eyes unfocused as he felt the magic coming over him. There was a perfectly good reason he avoided skin-to-skin touch. The cabin room faded away, replaced by the black void he knew well and dreaded.
FLASH! A vision. Fire. Pain. The snap of a lash.
FLASH! Caught in a storm. Water. The sting of salt in wounds.
Flash! The visions began to fade, leaving him with a final image of the world from a great height, wind blowing from all directions, and the exhilaration of .... flying?
As his normal vision returned his eyes refocused on the islander crouched on the floor. She started talking in her language, and Taltor couldn't understand a word she said. Or...what? He could swear he heard a second voice behind hers, a voice only his mind. A voice, speaking his own language.... But before he could delve further, the inevitable consequence of his cursed visions happened. The world faded to black again, but this time it was the black of oblivion and not Void.
Fortunately for the now-falling Taltor, the chair was directly behind him. Unfortunately, the chair was still overturned. His skull hit the chair's frame with a resounding thwack. The impact was sufficient enough to move the chair, and his head continued falling. A second thwack marked the moment he hit the hard floor.
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Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Nov 12, 2006 0:09:54 GMT -5
“Ouix, juz’sto armável” [whisper=Taltor,Me'ing] “Oh just lovely.” [/whisper] Me’ing muttered darkly under her breath; the man had up and knocked himself out; though the few moments he’d stood so still it felt like he wasn’t even breathing were interesting, his eyes turned inward in a way that was reminiscent of the shaman’s while they were in a trance. When he’d started falling backwards she’d lunged to catch him, but couldn’t reach him in time to prevent the damage to his skull from the chair, though she did manage to lessen the force of the blow he’d gotten from the ground. Sighing to herself in no little annoyance, she’d wanted to know what that object was called, and what the clear not-wood was called, but she’d have to wait, and she hated waiting.
With no small amount of effort she dragged the mainlander to the bunk and considered heaving his form onto the mattress before she noticed the sand on it; and her, and now, consequently, the mainlander. This drew an irritated twitch of her eye; she hated being sandy more than she hated having to wait, she let the man down on the ground before shaking out the sheets and blankets on the bed, still crouched, and started to look for a way of washing herself off short of going back out into the spray of the ocean while her hands busied themselves with brushing the grit from the mainlander’s clothing. There, in the corner, a bowl of some sort; deep and wide and by a reflective not-wood. She slid away from the unconscious man and stalked over, pausing to sniff the contents of the bowl, gratified to find naught but fresh, clean water; the not-wood surprised her though, she could see herself in it; clearer than any reflection she’d had in a pool before, it only made her more aware of how sandy she was. With little care for modesty she slid out of her tattered clothing and scooped the water onto her face and shoulders and hair; slowly rinsing the worst of the grit from her body. The discovery of a small rough cloth next to the bowel made it easier; she dipped it into the water and finished cleaning herself off, kicking the filthy rags that she’d worn aside and blinking at the new scar on her leg. She really was outcast, then, exiled; Me’ing shook her head, she’d grieve later when she had time.
“…ag’oura o qzue usa houx’mem-ahoautl’zes, zaa?” [whisper=Taltor,Me'ing] “…now what do mainlander’s wear, hmm?” [/whisper] She murmured to herself, pulling at the strange compartments in the room until she found a long garment with sleeves and a rope; she slid on the whatever it was, it covered her to the ankles and after several fumbling minuets she managed to get her arms through the strange bits they were supposed to fit through, and tied the rope around her waist. Now clean and clothed she went back to heaving the strange mainlander back onto the bed; settling him on his back, his head in her lap as she crossed her legs, her ankles supporting the back of his neck. She knew little of healing, less still of mind healing, though she knew what her father had done for her when she’d struck her head on anything; her fingers spidered through the strangely colored hair, massaging the lumps she felt on the mainlander’s scalp as she started to croon, low and soft in her language; a few hot tears escaping slowly and being reabsorbed into her dehydrated skin as she thought of her father and his murderers and the strange world she’d been so callously thrust into.
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Taltor
Human
Scholar and Librarian
Posts: 15
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Post by Taltor on Nov 12, 2006 18:24:03 GMT -5
Lovely...just armável Lovely
Words floated through his subconscious while he lay in a dream that was no dream, the void that was not Void. The voice.....
Lovely...
He recognized it, but couldn't quite remember...His thoughts refused to line up in a pattern. Causation dissolved into effect and memories became predictions. He didn't know one could be conscious of being unconscious.... He drifted through the vague haze in his mind, curious at the strange sensation of living within himself, and yet unafraid. This wasn't like the Void, as he'd come to call the strange place he saw when the visions came over him. This was different. As he peered into the mist, shapes and structures began to form out of the shadows. Corridors... Endless corridors filled this strange mind-verse. And....as he peered closer, the strange texture of the walls solidified. Books! The corridors were lined with shelves upon shelves of books! Curious, he reached out....
MAINLANDERS wearwhat NOW? Crying out in pain, Taltor clapped metaphysical hands to his ears, but that did nothing to dampen the sound-that-was-not-sound. The voices...
But as suddenly as they started, they faded away. It was almost as if someone was talking...in his mind. He looked into the blackness surrounding his mind-form. This was one strange not-dream. And then... he caught the simple yet pleasant tune of a sung melody. It was foreign, yet he almost...no, that wouldn't make sense. He only knew Standard, as much as he wanted to learn other languages. But when did anything make sense, once someone touched him? Almost by accident he found himself following the melody, following it up-and-out....
Taltor opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the spiderweb in the corner of the ceiling. The place needed cleaning. Then he saw the islander's face peering over his. His head was in her....He shot up into a sitting position, which he instantly regretted as his head reminded him of its recent injury. Slowly. Take things slowly... Carefully, he moved to the other side of the bed and turned to face the woman. She hadn't killed him, so unless she had some other plan in mind he should be safe. Should be. Against all reason, his instincts were telling him to trust her. "Hello? I'm Taltor...We found you on the beach. You were hurt. We brought you here until we could get help. Can you understand anything I'm saying?"
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Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Nov 13, 2006 17:01:11 GMT -5
Me’ing jerked back as the mainlander lunged upright, bumping the back of her head on the bedpost and grumbling under her breath, she’d been knocked around enough for an entire lifetime, thank you; eyes still on the wary mainlander before her. She took a deep, calming breath as he began to, yet again, spout off gibberish that held no meaning to her whatsoever. Halfway through the tirade of nonsensical mutterings from the man she held up a hand and shook a finger at him, murmuring “Tran’qüailidade!”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“Quiet!”[/whisper] Her own little version of gibberish since he couldn’t’ understand her just to get the man to stop talking; it hurt her ears, the guttural sounds he was making, completely devoid of the soft slurring and fluidity of her native tongue. Did all mainlanders talk like that? How could they speak without clawing out their ears, it was horrible! Short and clipped and meandering tones, but stranger than the words she was hearing was the fact that the man’s voice, his tone, seemed familiar; reminiscent of warmth and resonating with a musical quality she might look into later when her head didn’t feel like a swollen melon.
She snapped her fingers together oddly, instead of just the one she snapped the first three fingers of her right hand in quick succession, waving her first two afterwards pressed together in front of the mainlander's eyes to get his attention.
“L’ouvco houx’mem-ahoautl’zes e suas pa’lavraz rouchosas; se’lecizonam um fl’auxo e permaunecze cvom e’e! Todo izso, izso…” [whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“Crazy mainlander’s and their rocky words; pick a flow and stay with it! All that, that…”[/whisper] She shook her hand around in the air while the other busied itself massaging the lump on the back of her head.
“Daed a dididdi da.” Me’ing motioned to a few inches in the air in front of her, left hand across her body before waving it up and down; like over a long tangled vine, to her right until her arm was fully extended.
“Wzp!”
She brought two of her fingers forward in front of her, close and evenly spaced between her and the mainlander.
“Cautl’rto. Az’gura…” [whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“Short. Now,” [/whisper] Her hands moved again, one finger pointing to herself. “Me’ing.” The pointing finger shifted to the mainlander and wiggled expectantly. “Vouxcê. O qxue eu ch’amo-o?” [whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“You. What to I call you?”[/whisper]
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Taltor
Human
Scholar and Librarian
Posts: 15
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Post by Taltor on Nov 18, 2006 1:04:24 GMT -5
Taltor sighed in frustration as the woman's eyes began to unfocus while he spoke. She obviously knew none of the language he spoke, while he knew none of hers. He stopped ranting nervously when she held up a finger. "Tran’qüailidade!” quiet... Apparently body language was standard across cultures. He understood her completely when she asked for quiet. Taltor could have almost swore he heard her speak in Standard, though...He dismissed the thought as a figment of his injured brain. Head trauma was known to cause strange illusions.
He was jarred out of his thoughts by Me'ing's snap. Who? Mei-? I need to get a healer to see my head...Now I'm fantasizing names! He stared, wide-eyed, at the dynamic woman. She had beautiful eyes...
She began to gesture about while pouring out a torrent of unintelligible dialog. Taltor gave up on trying to understand her words and concentrated on her body motion. He found himself admiring the muscular structure of her body when suddenly he caught a strange whisper, a shadow of a thought. It was as if someone was talking right outside his range. Taltor concentrated, trying to zero in on the noise. ..."...mainlander’s and their rocky words; pick a flow and stay with it! All that, that…” Taltor considered himself a sane and normal man, intelligent, but otherwise ungifted. Hearing voices definitely set him on edge. Was she telepathic and projecting to him? That could account for it. Then why was she making such an effort physically to get him to understand?
Taltor received yet another shock when she identified herself as Me'ing. Me'ing? Had she told him that before? How had he known? I'm still dreaming, I'm still dreaming...
“You. What do I call you?” That strange voice in his mind matched her movements and gestures exactly. If she was telepathic, maybe the brain translated languages. That explained it. She was sending him her thoughts, and he was translating them. He'd have to talk to one of the mind-mages to know for certain, but if she could remove this barrier to their conversation....
"Taltor." He tried to 'think' hard in her direction, but he had no experience with that. Better to stick to body language as she had done. Right as he was about to embark on a reenactment of her rescue, his stomach growled loudly. It was past mid-day, and theoretically the cabin should be well-stocked. "Hungry? Food?" He mimed 'eating,' hoping that their eating habits were similar enough that she would understand. Oh, it would be so much easier if she could teach him her mind-magic. "Do you..." He gestured from her head, then to his. "Send?"
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Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Nov 18, 2006 17:55:15 GMT -5
What a strange noise the mainlander made when she pointed to him, all sharp and jumbled and incoherent as the rest of what he’d said; Me’ing tipped her head to the side and blinked thoughtfully as she rolled it around in her mind for a bit; it seemed familiar for all it’s strangeness, and that bothered her. She didn’t know this man, this land; how could the name-sound be familiar? Frowning to herself she moved her lips along with the name-sound in her head before attempting it out loud on her own. “Tault'r?” No, that wasn’t right, it was longer, and no apostrophe…she’d been found by a child? “Thaltur?” Too long, too fluid; the sound was choppy and sharp and jumbly… “Tltar?” Finally she gave up with an annoyed snort; mumbling darkly under her breath about mainlanders and their funny name-sounds. Either way it didn’t matter, the man-child before her seemed worried enough without her muttering. “T’rei qxue ch’má-lo alguo maix, criaxnça de t’rra.” [whisper=Taltor,Me'ing] “I’ll have to call you something else, land child.” [/whisper] She reached forward and ruffled that silver hair with the affection of an older sister, smiling and opening her mouth to say more when-
It growled.
Starting with a low growl herself, jerking away from the land child and having enough self control not to pop her claws, lest she scare the Tualt’r or whatever he was called, she looked left and right, eyes scanning all around the room and looking through the not-wood on the wall; she leaned over to peek underneath the bed. When she found nothing she made a small confused sound in the back of her throat, her head swiveling on her shoulders to peer at the mainlander, who was miming something she didn’t quite catch, though it looked somewhat like how the traders would eat while murmuring more nonsense, short, but still nonsense. The growl came from him? She slid forward on the bed, turning her head to the side to press her ear against the soft part of his belly just below his ribcage, hardly breathing until she heard that growl again. So strange, what was in there?
“Humezm zanguado d’ntro?”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“Angry man inside?” [/whisper] She murmured, poking at the spot lightly and frowning when she felt nothing out of the ordinary. Must be yet another oddity of the mainland people, she thought, shaking her head and sitting up, quirking a brow at what the land child was miming now. What he said sounded like a question, but of what she couldn’t understand; even the motion he made was curious, waving her head to his; oh well, it was best to fit in with the culture as much as possible.
“Eu o ch’marei Pra’tua.”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“I shall call you Silver.”[/whisper] Me’ing nodded to herself, speaking as if naming a pet or giving a favored cousin a fond-name, hands reaching up to clasp Pra'tua’s shoulders, looking deep into those eyes colored like the sea that had tried to claim her life not long ago, leaning forward until their noses just barely touched, sniffling; his scent confounded her, there was little salt or brine about it, he smelled of ink and parchment and wood; puzzling that. Shrugging, she tipped her head back and thwacked her forehead to his gently; they’d both suffered bumps to the head recently, and it was his custom; and leaned back, rubbing her own forehead. “Saulta’ção eztrunhatl qxue vozcê tem a’qui, Pra’tua.”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“Strange greeting you have here, Pra'tua.” [/whisper]
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Taltor
Human
Scholar and Librarian
Posts: 15
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Post by Taltor on Nov 20, 2006 19:45:27 GMT -5
Taltor sat, bemused, as the woman Me'ing tried to pronounce his name. Personally, he didn't find it that hard to say. If she was struggling with his name, he privately wondered what she'd think about Vaeltarellinorthan tor-Tyitithon, a very pompous mage in the Tower. His name was hard for anyone to say, and as a member of the Fourth House he required all 'common' folk to address him by his full name. Taltor had run across him only once, and that was quite enough for a lifetime. Suddenly, she turned to him and began to let forth a stream of her language. Almost immediately after she began talking, the voice returned. “I’ll have to call you something else, land child.” [/color] Taltor was slowly coming to terms with the voice; it was handy in translation! He was glad she was a telepath. He had no magic of his own, so it definitely helped that she could extend that connection. Me'ing then reached up and tousled his hair. She's very...touch-oriented, isn't she...? His hair was rather fine, and mussed very easily. Strands escaped the loose ponytail and frizzed about his head in a silvery halo. And he had left his comb in the Tower....Sigh.
He hadn't thought much about his innocent stomach growl at the time, but Me'ing jumped at the sound. It took him a while to realize that she was looking for the source of his simple stomach gurgle, but he didn't know how to explain how it... And her head was on his stomach. Why....? “Angry man inside?”
He tried, as best he could, to explain that he was hungry, but by this point she had straightened and was looking him in the eyes. “I shall call you Silver.” The mind-voice was speaking in Standard, but his ears picked up the word 'Pra'tua.' Pra'tua. It had a certain appeal to it; he'd had worse nicknames in the past. "Geezer" and "Grandpa" were his least favorites. However, his thoughts trailed off as she drew in closer...and even closer still. Her eyes filled his frame of vision. And then she began...sniffing him? Finally she began to draw back, giving Taltor room to breathe...
THWACK.
After all the previous head trauma he had, even this light pain made stars dance in front of his eyes. What in the Four Realms.... “Strange greeting you have here, Pra'tua.”[/color]
Greeting? Oh. Oh! She thought he had signaled a way to greet when he had asked her about her telepathy. Sigh... He wasn't about to explain that again, so he just smiled. Or grimaced; his head hurt. Perhaps it would be better just to fix some lunch. He motioned for her to follow, then led the way back into the kitchen. It was set up in the standard 'wayhouse' layout, designed for mages traveling circuits about Mirithin. One cupboard was enchanted for cold, and one for heat. He opened the 'cold cupboard' and saw that it indeed was well-stocked; they apparently had just restocked. People thought mages lived a charmed life. It was true they had some amenities that seemed unnecessary, but if you take into account the number of students who had to successfully make 'cold cupboards' every year... Nearly every dorm in the Tower had at least one of these. He pulled out a frozen fish fillet and slid it into the 'hot cupboard.' The heat spell acted as soon as he shut the door, heating the fish magically without wasting energy releasing heat into the room. Taltor didn't understand the magic involved; all he knew was that it worked and only the badly made ones caught fire. This one was excellently crafted. After only a few minutes, he pulled out the fish. It was cooked to perfection, lightly steaming. There. Lunch. He grabbed plates and utensils, then set everything on the table. His eyes on Me'ing, he took the knife and delicately cut and separated the fish out onto two plates. He pushed one generous portion over toward the islander and gestured. Finally, his hunger overcame his need to be courteous, and he began to devour his lunch.
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Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Nov 26, 2006 13:15:51 GMT -5
When the mainlander bared his teeth at her Me’ing started backwards, mindful of what she’d hit her head against last time, and tensed; bared teeth was a sign of aggression on the islands, one that warranted a wary eye and swift claws should the gesture persist, she was hard pressed not to reply in kind, her own lips twitched from the effort. All the wariness was for nothing as the man stood and walked away from her, curious, and cautious, she followed the mainlander out of the room and through curious…passages, long rooms with nothing in them but more doors, some opened so she could see larger rooms, the sort she was accustomed too, some closed that she eyed warily, strange bulbous bits of metal on each; wood wasted on coverings for the rooms entrances. Such strange things, these mainlanders had; though she could hardly call them savages. Me’ing shook her head with a snort of confusion before continuing down the narrow room until they reached a large one that smelled of food and warmth, it must be where they prepared their foodstuffs. To confirm her suspicion the mainlander pulled out a large bit of fish that seemed to be different from anything she’d seen before from a container built into the wall, more wood wasted on coverings, she shook her head in astonishment. How much did they have to use it so frivolously?
Curious about the difference in the fish she padded up to the wood covered container on the wall and opened it, head tilted to the side, puzzled; the air felt different within, cooler than any breeze from the ocean, like what could be felt on the northern islands. The air became cooler still the further she slipped her hand in, the back of the container was slick, like the not-wood in the room she’d woken up, but wet and very cold as well, she jerked her hand back and stared at her fingertips as she closed the covering for the container, staring at the second container the mainlander had put the fish into, frowning. When he pulled out a the fish, steaming and smelling wonderful as she just now realized how famished she was; she’d been so worried over the events of the days before she could not bring herself to eat; she followed the mainlander to the table. Staring at the strange bits of metal next to the flat…something the fist was on; she’d never seen anything cooked like this before, hunger kept her from poking around the second container; Me’ing shrugged, sitting on the stool that had a back of some sort, and popped her claws on one hand, dicing up the filet quickly before snagging the bits she’d cut up with their tips and popping them into her mouth with a low rumble of appreciation. The fish tasted different than what they had on the islands, but was still good; flakey and warm and a little sweet. Consuming the fish before her took first priority, she could save her questions for later.
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Taltor
Human
Scholar and Librarian
Posts: 15
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Post by Taltor on Dec 2, 2006 0:07:11 GMT -5
Taltor tried not to stare as he watched Me'ing eat with her...claws? He tried to focus his attention on the food, but his eyes kept sliding over to the islander. He couldn't help it; he was a curious scholar. Here was a chance to observe something new and never before seen: the habits of a non-modernized culture! He wondered if the claws were natural. Some mages modified their own bodies once they became proficient in shape-changing magics. Perhaps she was a cast-off of some island mage, or maybe even a mage or shaman herself! However, it was clear she wasn't human. Claws could be a natural part of her people's physiology. A clatter startled Taltor out of his musing; he had been thinking too hard and had dropped his fork. Delicately, he removed it from the fish and resumed eating. Me'ing...What a fascinating creature! And yet, a nagging internal voice reminded him that she was no creature, to be studied and analyzed. He knew she was most likely just as intelligent as any mainlander; perhaps not a scholar, but intelligent enough. His internal dialogue distracted him yet again, and a sudden clink suprised him. He looked down to find that, somehow, he had finished his fillet. He looked over at Me'ing, then back to his plate. "I'd better clean this up; I have to set a good example for the students." He rose and walked over to the metal washbasin. A spigot with a small handpump was positioned above the basin. The indoor plumbing was another new innovation in practical magic. All it took was a few pumps to activate the flow; magic helped draw the rest of the water through the system. It flowed through the drain and into a purifying-web that removed all but the elemental water, then pushed that water up through the pipe and through the spigot again. A few gallons of water could supply a single house for a long time, if it was only used for cleaning. That task done, Taltor turned back to Me'ing. What to do now...Suddenly he remembered Kaltro. When would that boy be back? How would Me'ing react to another mainlander? Was he bringing the healer?
What was taking him so long?
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Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Jun 7, 2007 19:09:23 GMT -5
Even thought the fish broke apart in flakes, much different than the richer, denser meats of what she was accustomed to, Me’ing finished her meal with a voracious appetite and even reached out since Pra’tua seemed distracted and snagged a few bites from his fish. It was strange fish, but good fish; she’d never had a bad fish. A soft rumble of appreciation thrummed from the back of her throat as she licked what little there was left of her meal from her fingertips and claws, lapping it up before looking down to the flat thing her fish had been on before and back up to the land child. She was still famished, and quite thirsty, but remained silent when he stood and walked off with his flat thing to a weird shell that was sticking out of a wall. The shell was dark and shiny like her claws and she stood to follow him, stalking almost, and stared down at what he was doing curiously. Me’ing even reached out and tapped the weird shell with a claw, scraping it and filching at the noise and retracting her hand like a burnt child. That noise -hurt- and she didn’t understand what it was that Pra’tua needed to do with it.
“P’ra o qxue é ezta cou-cza bizx’erra, Pra’tua? De o qxue ty’pon de peixe vei-io?”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“What is this weird shell for? What sort of fish did it come from?”[/whisper]
She tapped at it once more without scraping and stared as a root started to pour something that she recognized. “Ágoua! C’moz axcaboun em ax’quin? Nae o qxue deius pe’qzue’o pe-egoux ar’madiyha ax’quin? Todo o mem-ahoautl’zes é c’mox izton?”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“Water! How did it end up in here? What little god did you trap here? Is all the mainland like this?”[/whisper] Questions bubbled forth as she slipped her fingers under the water and felt the comfort of something familiar in all this strangeness bubbling out of a root, she cupped her palms under the flow and brought it up to her lips, sipping it and laughing at the flavor. This water was cooler, crisper than anything she found in stream or spring on the islands and it was wonderful. So excited was she that she flung another handful into the air and twirled, making a twisting spin and a few steps backward in an abbreviated dance of joy that she coupled with a trilling cry. “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrla’la zeh hyii-ii!” She darted back to the weird shell and threw another handful, though this time at Pra’tua, laughing as she darted back. “Izton é mel’hoaulr o qzue skuuma!”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“This is better than skuuma!”[/whisper]
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Taltor
Human
Scholar and Librarian
Posts: 15
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Post by Taltor on Jun 7, 2007 22:08:11 GMT -5
Taltor smiled as Me'ing approached the sink. It came as no surprise that she'd never seen a sink before, but the way she acted led him to believe that she was also amazed by the metal. How could she have never seen a metal basin before? How primitive WERE the islanders? So many questions... His wandering train of thought was shattered by the ear-piercing screech of fingernails...or claws...on metal.
“What is this weird shell for? What sort of fish did it come from?”[/color]
The question caught Taltor by surprise. She didn't know what metal was? He'd have thought they'd at least have metal weaponry. Fish spears or something of the sort. Or maybe it's the shined finish that's unfamiliar. Polished iron would look much different from raw and primitively smelted metal. How to explain.... But she wasn't really expecting an answer, apparently, because she didn't wait for an explanation.
“Water! How did it end up in here? What little god did you trap here? Is all the mainland like this?”
Taltor couldn't help but laugh then. Trapping a god in an appliance? He wouldn't want to be the one making repairs to THOSE containment spells. But it was fairly complex directional elemental magic, so it wasn't a surprise that she'd not seen its like. Her reactions made him look at the magic and technology he took for granted. In a way, it put the 'magic' back in magic. Living at the Tower tended to take out the wonder. Suddenly, Me'ing let out an inhuman cry as she took a sip of the water. Taltor jumped in surprise, dropping the plate. The ceramic plate crashed to the floor as the islander spun about. Taltor, taken completely by surprise, couldn't tell if she was happy or possessed. He could just watch, frozen, as she splashed him with water as well. And then she laughed. He couldn't help laughing as well, with her and at himself for being so jumpy. “This is better than skuuma!”[/color] "What's skuuma?" he asked as he took a step toward the pantry to get the broom. Unfortunately, ceramic shards and water make for very treacherous footing. He felt his foot shift dangerously and flung his hands out for balance. Time seemed to slow as he moved frantically to regain his center. A push too far forward sent his foot flying out from under him. He fell forward, arms flailing in a strange attempt at flight. Collision with Me'ing's body seemed inevitable, but in that one second it was not the woman before him he thought about.
Dear gods, PLEASE don't let Kaltro come back at this moment..
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Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Jun 7, 2007 23:35:13 GMT -5
Oh the water danced on her tongue, whatever god they used to pull it out of the ocean or the ground must be happy indeed for it to be so pure and sweet. Water was actually sweet here. Back home the water was never sweet, it was bland and tasteless so it was always better to just use it to make skuuma and have something potent to drink. She was spinning, stomping and clapping her hands on her forearms and shoulder, elbows and hips and even a thigh as she danced, laughing. The mainland would be wonderful it if was all going to be like this, full of so many things to see and do, and it would take a long, long time before she ever understood what he was saying but she was certain that Pra’tua would explain everything to her when he was able, he seemed to understand what she said well enough. Me’ing wondered at that but shrugged it off, maybe it was part of the god thing in the shell.
“Ouix, quzer dianz’çar dem-mais Pra’tua?”[whisper=Taltor,Me'ing]“Oh, you want to dance too Pra’tua?”[/whisper] She laughed, sweeping the slightly shorter man into her arms and spinning him along with her, leading him through a few turns and jumps. She hadn’t danced with another man in years, not since she was a little girl and doing so would be an invitation to take her as their own. She was fiercely independent and couldn’t abide by that, thought she was happy enough to dance with this land child. He was a child, after all, if his name ran together as it did. In her exuberance she spun one more time and slipped her hands under Pra’tua’s arms, spinning and lifting to toss him across the room in a light lift. A normal move for such dancing.
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Taltor
Human
Scholar and Librarian
Posts: 15
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Post by Taltor on Jun 7, 2007 23:51:48 GMT -5
Insane. She was insane, and so was he The thought flashed again and again through Taltor's mind as he was twirled about the room. He was by no means a small man, but this woman was just picking him up and throwing him around in her crazy dance. He had tripped and nearly fallen into her, and her only response was “Oh, you want to dance too Pra’tua?”[/color] No wonder there wasn't much information on the islands. If the islanders were as...enthusiastic...as Me'ing, traders and explorers would have run from the demons as fast as possible.
But Taltor was surprising himself by laughing with her. Her energy was contagious, and he decided he'd be injured less if he just let her pull him around as she would. Taltor had never been much of a dancer; you need a partner to dance, and he was too tall and too shy. But now...Me'ing's dance wasn't one of the formula ballroom dances. It was ... magic.
And suddenly he was flying. Flying through the air, with nothing below him and no one holding on. His stomach lurched, but before panic could set in he landed. It was a miracle that he hadn't flailed when he was thrown, but he was so surprised his body had stayed frozen in position. He landed on his feet, but momentum made him run to the wall. What in the world was that move?! Considering the events of the day, he decided it safest to sit down on the floor. What a day...Had she really thrown him across the room? She was insane! But that dance...in those few moments, he had felt alive.
"Where did you learn to dance like that, Me'ing? Ah, so many questions. Is your entire race telepathic like you? I wish it worked both ways, so I could return the favor and we could understand each other."
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Me'ing
Changeling
But still crazy!
Posts: 16
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Post by Me'ing on Jun 8, 2007 9:24:33 GMT -5
Still swinging her own lithe frame about the room and dancing with as much enthusiasm as a child while occasionally spinning by the shell and flicking water about as she stomped and slid around the floor. It felt so good to move, even if her motions were somewhat impeded by the thing she had on. Whatever they called it. The top and bottom were connected and the thing around her waist itched somewhat but she was still having fun, spinning and clapping while Pra’tua spoke in that broken language. Well, at least he was saying her name right…almost. But she could help him with that, and she did by slipping back over to move in a tight arc just next to him, slowing her dance a bit but remaining very energetic. She hadn’t felt this energetic in a long time and it was very refreshing, for a mainlander Pra’tua wasn’t that bad. The council went on about how perverse the people of the large land were and that nothing was sacred, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all. Still, her name.
“Me’ing, Pra’tua. Mei. Ying. Me’ing.” She leaned down to laugh as she spoke this but her leg moved too far in one direction as her weight shifted, and then there was that pool of water and broken whatever the flat thing was their fish had been on. So she fell, spectacularly so, twisting to land on her unwounded side and ending up right on Pra’tua’s lap with a soft “Prrt?” Of confusion and bafflement before she started laughing again and tapping the land child’s nose, Me’ing smiled.
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