O.D. 4.8.2000 [1:01 p.m.]

(this is Jarl and Firecracker again...the first of two scenes where he agrees to marry her for like a day. hahaha.)

[Jarl Thane]

Fri 21:53 PDT Things are different in the desert nights, and time runs more fluidly, unbinded by the conceptions of the day. The wind blows over the lake; the stars wink out and return; somehow, they have reached the cabin already and Rahven, tired, falls promptly asleep in the inner room. Returning to the outer room in the humble little cabin, Jarl closes the door behind him softly and moves to light a lamp (oil, how quaint) before sitting crosslegged on the bare floor. Fine-boned, him? Perhaps. Finely made, at least: each slanting line, each proud curve, carefully molded by the hands of God (Gaia, Seline). There is nothing sickly about him. Then again, his world was merely leaving him (faster and faster)--it was not yet gone. In the firelight, his dusky skin takes on a tinge of the glow in his eyes, and his eyes become molten gold, brilliant as the sunset.

"Well," he says, spreading his arms to encompass the room, "this is it. Two rooms, a bed, a stove and a lamp. Not much, but enough. You understand why I prefer the outdoors, now."

[Kelly O'Riley]

Fri 22:00 PDT ~...Down (y feathers) she sinks, graceful and light--like a fog, settling (as a curious cat--dissintegrating into loose tendrils of toying vapors in a blink) down in front of him, once he sits. Already, and still, do her eyes--such pretty eyes, such a beautiful blue though their pupils be ringed in glowing (nearly) dusky green. Pollution, child. Polluted--is she a stain upon Gaia's face? Is she wyrm? Is she tainted--must be destroyed (...they are being destroyed).

Her world isn't gone, its simply mad. Its simply hollow, poison, now. She is turning to poison, there is no hope--but that is what she is, personified. Hope. Its in the delicious curve of pale cheek, the way she leans forward (breathlessly? is breath breathless?) to stare in fascination (sad, actually--a personal sadness) at the flickering dance of fire. You think she's going to reach out, and try to touch it. Her eyes lfit back to his--as he spreads his (wings) arms, she nods, slowly (accompanied by bells, bells and the scritch of cloth against bare plank boards).~

I always understood--I never liked living in boxes, or cages, it defeats the purpose of being free, do you know what I mean? I like your lamp ~How many people would say that?~ Do you think Rahven went to sleep and will remember what it feels like so I can know tomorrow? What does it feel like to you? I wish I knew...

[Jarl Thane]

Fri 22:12 PDT He rubs his chin and then the side of his neck, thoughtful. Propping his chin against his hand, then, and his elbow against his knee, he stares--mesmerized--into the dance of the small flame. "I like it too." His eyes hood against the light, lazily, and he stretches out a hand to adjust the waxen wick within. "It gives a touch of the bygones to the cabin."

His eyes flicker to hers, then--had you truly thought him lazy, and languid? (Never.) He is always strung somehow between the implacability of his heritage, and the calmness (the wonder) that his spirit-friend, the Butterly, imparts. "What it feels like to sleep?" He mulls it over and then smiles. "I don't know. I suppose the same way it feels right before we are conceived, an instant before we exist."

[Kelly O'Riley]

Fri 22:17 PDT ~The dance of shadows cast by the golden rosy glow of (tamed, wild) fire throws new planes on her elfin face (proud cheek bones, like his?), and she leans forward again, resting pointed elbows on her knees, reclining thus so lightly that it seems as though still she doesn't touch the floor(boards). Somehow she fits in the humble 'cage', as she termed it, and the white strands woven into plait of gold mingled brown stand out (air). Elfin, otherwordly--transient. Again, out of nowhere.~

Your eyes are so beautiful, like sunlight--but pretty, darker, with more depth. The Sun is very shallow, don't you ever think? ~There is no telling how she means 'shallow', like waters? Is the Sun a person to her? Could be, could be--care to court madness and find out? Think of the secrets; think of what one could watch~ Like sunlight and wine, golden--like on Atlantis. Like the tears Atlantis cried when it was happy ~So.. happy, herself. So joyful, it shines through the paled skin--it shines like the sadness does, warring, winning. Cheerful, living for the moment(s.. all of them).~ Ah, so maybe I DID sleep once--I slumbered forever and ever and ever, but I hate that.. ~And yes, she really hates it. He can see it. Feel it. Hear it--hates the FORCED slumber, but enough talk of that... She's decided, and her lashes sweep down, hooding her (smouldering?) gaze, and she smiles--not comforting (playful)~

Do you want to see something?

[Jarl Thane]

Fri 22:40 PDT He smiles, easily--emotion came so easily over his features, washed over them, a warm tide. "Your eyes are not plain, yourself," he replies. Perhaps he watches her as she watches him; perhaps his eyes seek to probe the depths of hers, touch the rims of tainted green about the cores of purest blue. "I would say they are like the ocean," and he would never know just how much they resembled that ocean, poisoned, poisoning, "but you do not like the ocean. Or you do not, anymore."

He stretches out, unfolding into a long, lean strip in the firelight that dances and wavers, the firelight which casts time backwards upon itself. He does touch the floor--very obviously, he touches the floor. He pools upon it, seeps across it, melds with it so bonelessly that he is all cat for that flickering instant with his long-lashed exotic eyes blinking lazily into the flame, with his feline beauty and the strange animal cant of his features.

And then his eyes flicker back to hers; one eyebrow rises. "See what?"

[Kelly O'Riley]

Fri 22:53 PDT But these aren't my eyes, or, rather, they are pieces of them. You know? ~She asks, faint flush--like that of dawn, creeping over the horizon, spreads (spilled water colors) over her cheeks. Embarassed? No, pleased--and she's learned how to blush, she could be so human, if she weren't so obviously not. More human then human, thats the saying, isn't it? She slides--slides?--glides, forward, closer (be warned, its dangerous, she means not harm--but she knows not what harm is to everyone).~ I like the ocean, I just don't like the way that the people under the sea -- the people mind you -- fuck it up. Just the Western Sea, it hurts those. There was such a great.. ~Now, now her eyes fill--with almost tears--with pure emotion, be touchd?~ .. great great great disaster, not so long ago--I like to know about things, but I havn't been. Do you want to go traveling together maybe, some time? ~Though its doubtful she'd stay--anymore then he would. Mockery, mocking, she lifts a brow to mimic him, canting her head (bird-like, prey).~ See what of course, all of it, well, some of it. Do you want to see? ~Mischief~

[Jarl Thane]

Fri 23:00 PDT Expression came easily to him, but change of expression--emotion--came easily to her. One moment she is heartbreakingly earnest (does he want to comfort her? Does he want to draw her bird-frail body close, in some vain attempt to share his strength with this ancient and ever-new being, ever regenerating...ever dying? Or is her sadness too deep for him to even begin to comprehend?) and the next she is all mischief. Which is the true face? Maybe both, yes? Maybe it is that blend of opposites that makes her who she really is. Maybe he was beginning to understand?

Or maybe not.

His lips twitch, and he considers her questions carefully. "I should like to see the ocean with you," he replies at last, and one answer serves both questions. "See it as you see it."

[Kelly O'Riley]

Fri 23:12 PDT ~Come now, she is not all sadness--is she? How can the laughing breeze be sad, all the time. Impossible (she is an impossiblity masquerading as the possible, how do you like that?). She would like to see alot, and she simply gives a nod of pointed chin, solemnly (eyes sparkling--glimmering--dancing, much as the flame reflected there in--oh poor fire, if only he knew... what she knew...).~ Yes? Well, then... ~Mirth, she reaches into one of her pockets, and pulls out a small, small, pair of scizzors--shaped like a stork, fingernail clippers? and then cuts off a lock of her 'hair', a thickish lock, though not too thick, enough to have substance (... what happens when the insubstantial dreams of substance--are they shallow, or deep, because they have nothing?) and then reaches (across the fire) over to Jarl, palm open, hair lying there in.~ Put this somewhere on you, okay? It would make a pretty ring, don't you think? ~Indeed, it would, all moonlight and gold and browned woods~ But I dunno, some guys don't like rings cept wedding rings--have you ever been married? Pockets are good, I keep alot in my pockets.

[Jarl Thane]

Fri 23:22 PDT He takes the hair as a faint frown--concentration, confusion--crosses his brow. Wordlessly, and so very swiftly, he tears a scrap of cloth from the cuff of his worn shirt and uses it to bind the lock of hair together. This he holds up in the firelight, casting a puzzled grin to her. "It would make a pretty ring, yes. Are you asking me to marry you?" He is kidding with her, of course--prodding gently at her sense of humor before he slides the lock of hair away into his pocket. "What's this for, anyway? And no. I've never been married. Have you?" He does not realistically expect her to answer in affirmation--but who knows? Often with her, the most unexpected becomes the occurrence.

[Kelly O'Riley]

Fri 23:39 PDT ~Sense of humor? She likes to pretend she doesn't have one--its funny, and her eyes widen in response (so good, can you see through illusion--see through the sky? maybe its not illusion, she's always (she is) so sincere).~ Would you? I've never gotten married in Vegas before, and I hear its an interesting marriage, we don't have to stay married but it could be fun!! ~Oh gods.. Did.. she.. just.. propose??? Yes, indeed. Thoughtful cant to her head, now, as her eyes (...watching eyes..) study him--watching his hands carefully~ Do I have to go on my knees? ~...and, completely off the subject--as he holds the lock of goldmoonlight something.. tingles...~

[Jarl Thane]

Fri 23:56 PDT Something tingles. Something moves, within--for a moment his eyes do not see a lock of hair but a lock of sunlight, a beam of molten gold made at once tangible and intangible. He blinks; those lovely eyes widen, and the pupils within dilate so wide that for a moment they do not merely resemble the eyes of a leopard--they are the eyes of a leopard. Her hair in his hand is something alive, something beautiful and...vibrant, vibrating, and it was spreading to him...

He looks at her, wondering. She is as magical as her hair, though he could not say why (...tingling...)--she was not the same, either, though he could not say why. And, though he could not say why --is this what it is to be born?--the whole world had changed, and was still changing. Still changing.

Her words finally sink in, then, and he smiles--he grins--he blushes (Bastet blush?!) and laughs. "No...you don't have to...I mean, you--" was she serious? It was hard to concentrate when his blood seemed to be fizzing...no, dancing...he shuts his eyes briefly and shakes his head to clear it. Just as the laughing breeze cannot be always sad, nor can he always be thoughtful, deliberate. Not when Bastet blood, shifter's blood, blazed in him. Rage manifests, one way or another--and is Rage even the word for this spontaneity, this instinct and this rush, that his blood lent him?--and he blurts, quite without thinking, "All right. Just for a day. And then we get an annulment."

[Kelly O'Riley]

Sat 00:19 PDT ~....spreading through him, into him--unlocking what was inside. Like a heart-beat stilled, finally, finally allowed to beat again--like that moment, where we are nothing, and finally become something. Feel it, pretty baby? Feel it seeping through you--into your bones (join the dance, you've joined the dance, dance forever and ever). glamour. lifes blood, dreamsblood. heartbeat. indeed, his eyes should change--they do change--and everything is becoming different, but still, still the same.

he thought he knew color? he thought he knew blue? he didn't, but now he does--now he does, he see's colors as they were only seen at the edge of sleep peering into (dreamland) the fantastic. there are so many colors now, so many shades, hues, before only imagined in the simple glow of firelight. this is purity. purity beyond pure. this is beauty, and this is magic--and this is real. The tingling has faded, and he simply... see's now. Enchanted. (enchanting). She leans forward, chin on her fist, body curled up, watching him with wide (see--now they truly seem to be sky, see? she... glows? auras, angel, imagine wings).

She lets him get adjusted wisely, the sweep (spill.. torrent.. waterfall) of hair (silk) as finally it -- mostly -- falls out of its braid, and cascades in gentle waves around shoulders (sweeping caress--singed, should be singed, by the fire, isn't)~ Of course I want too!! If I didn't want to I wouldn't have asked, and most certainly wouldn't have asked if I had too--where's the joy in doing what you have to do unless its something that you do? Do you like seeing? And when we get married--

--I want a honeymoon, cause I havn't had one of those before either.. but do you mind terribly? ~Chews anxiously on her lip (so fragile, tender, she could bleed), eyes large again--widened, long lashes trembling as she blinks once (lashes kiss now cheeks, throwing shadows spiky). So serious, but.. worried?~

[Jarl Thane]

Sat 00:40 PDT ...he only stares for the longest of moments.

He does nothing but stare. He can't look away. God, Gaia, Seline, Nala......never, ever in his life had he seen such a color, such a blue, such a blue rimmed in green, such--perfection? Is that the word for it? No. Not quite. Such vibrancy, such...insane, unbelievable beauty. A thousand shades of blue, a thousand shades of green, peach, gold, white, brown. And when he looked away; when he looked around, amazed, the whole world had changed.

No. The world world had blossomed, grown out of its old self, become something incredible...and her voice--not just her voice--any sound, any sound at all--it was like hearing, truly hearing, for the first time. Even his cat-senses could never provide him with this: it wasn't merely an intensification of sound, of scent, of sight, of taste and touch. It was a whole new dimension to everything. He was intoxicated by the patterns upon the ceiling, by the dancing shadows thrown by the fire (was it his imagination, or did they beckon, and laugh?). He was fascinated by the rush of his own breath in and out, in and out, the timbre of the minute hiss of his breathing, the pounding of his heart. He could feel, it seemed, each individual molecule of wood beneath his palms, each thread of fiber on his skin. His nostrils flare; he inhales, deeply, the scent of the wood compounded, given a glossy rich overtone, the scent of her, wild like the wind, refracting across a thousand worlds. The air itself had a taste now, sweet, but not like any sweet he had ever known before...

Every sense had come alive, truly alive. Every sense now blended into another, until he could taste the color of her eyes, and feel the sound of her voice. Schizophrenia? He would gladly be schizophrenic, for this...absolute...

...there was no word for it. He is struck dumb, staring, and at last he speaks (how different his voice sounded; how the layers wove and twined; how smooth the tones are, like a deep, deep pool, shimmering but opaque...) "...honeymoon." It is nothing more than a murmur. "Yes. If you like." And then--he has to ask-- "What did you do to me?"

[Kelly O'Riley]

Sat 00:55 PDT ~Delight (....became Delerium) is easily read upon the planes of elfin (--she belongs before King Arthur and his Queen) face, easily read in the glow of marbled sky-blue(..and gold.. and pink.. and ultra purple and.. no, just blue--October blue, an October sky). She's so... happy.. (joy).. at his wonder--as his wonder trembles out on warm breath, takes a hold of the cat-slung ease of his body, changes minuit expressions, becomes wondrous --

(...change... the butterfly... the wind).

--like the world, like the world.

However... she does not want him to go too far--and she reaches out to take (grab) his wrist, strangely strong despite her fragility, despite the broken feather light weight of her. " No, Jarl, be careful. Don't let yourself go, I can't fly that far." Captures then, his eyes with hers--those golden (atlantis) pools of inequity, fractured amber sunlit drops congealed into glory--oh, she keeps that gaze, for long serious moment (...only sound is the whisper of hair against skin as she leans forward... then release--releases him). A brilliant, searing, smile.~ " I gave you a piece of dreams, so you can see them now--this is what I mean, sometimes. See? And can we go to Hawaii for the honeymoon? I know that might mean we have to get an anulment after two days.. but.. " ~bites her lip again.~ " Please?" ~ So.. earnest, serious...

wistful.~

[Jarl Thane]

Sat 01:09 PDT He cannot possibly see her. Finally unblinded, he is blinded by the very beauty of the world he sees, blinded by his once-blindness. He cannot possibly see her, so rapt was he upon the play of light across her face, and through her hair, and in her eyes--

--and yet he does, somehow. His hand tightens upon hers for an instant, feeling the exquisite texture of skin--and then relaxes. He closes his eyes (so reluctantly)...swallows. "I don't...think I understand. Fly how far? How far have you taken me? I..."

Hawaii. Honeymoon. She wants a honeymoon; she wants something so mundane as a marriage and a honeymoon from him, a child of the moon and the earth and the Panther, while she gave him--this. Amazing.

"Hawaii. I want to see Hawaii." He opens his eyes, gestures meaninglessly, stares mesmerized by his own hands. "Like this. I want to see the sunset like this. I want to see you in the sunlight like this. It's..." his face tightens in concentration as he looks for the words to couch that which cannot be spoken, and at last he manages, "...it's so beautiful it hurts. Is this how you see life? It must be wonderful. And so very sad. And--"

He draws a breath, but there is nothing more to say. And so he releases it again, and smiles. "We'll go to Hawaii."

[Kelly O'Riley]

Sat 01:27 PDT ~She takes in a breath, shoulders (wings) rising, then falling (relief?) and she rocks back on her heals. Funny, they havn't moved much--are still in the same, plain, two room rustic cabin on the same (dusty?) floor with a single (oil, how quaint) lamp. But, so much has happened.. and changed.~ I mean, don't let yourself get carried away--thats dangerous, you'd go insane. ~Bluntly put, truth be told--though eloquence she does have at her command, now is not the time to use it. Is she looking for shock value? No, just.. honesty.(sincerity).~ I can't help you if you go insane

~Again, curious, she cants her head (cocks her head--sparrow). Inquiring lift to both elegant brows.~ Why is it sad? Are you sad? Do I make you sad? I'm sorry, sorrow hurts, and gets tiring. This is how we see the world, though, yes--of course, each and every day it grows more and more... less, then this. More like.. ~Hesitation, not wishing to offend~ ...as you see it when you are being realistic. ~Smiles, so easily, glows, really~ Really? We'll go to Hawaii? We can fly off that waterfall cliff! Oh! Visit the volcanoes--though, the oceans less then it should be... Still, its very beautiful there--do want want to go outside?

[Jarl Thane]

Sat 01:36 PDT "Oh," is his answer to the insanity comment, as he simply blinks. Then, as she speaks again, he shakes his head. "You don't make me sad." But that wasn't the truth, was it? She made him sad, indeed--she made him very sad, because somewhere within (could he feel it?) he knows she is nothing more than wind, scarcely more tenuous than Peter Pan's faeries, who died when a child stopped believing. He knows--or she knows, and somehow he feels it through her--that her days are numbered, that the world is coming to a close for her, that the real and the ordinary and the mundane are locking together to destroy this world of beauty, of wonder, of beautiful, wonderful chaos. But more than anything she made him sad because she could make him so happy.

Paradox? Of course.

"I have seen the waterfall cliff," he murmurs, "and it is very lovely. But I have never seen it. You would love it..." her words strike him, then, and he sits up suddenly. "We must go soon. Before this--" he gestures again emptily, "--fades. And yes," he says, rising fully to his feet, "let's go outside."

[Kelly O'Riley]

Sat 01:50 PDT ~Indeed.

Her story is not one of self-discovery, not one of searching for the truth--she knows her truth, she knows herself. Her story is that of one fighting to retain that very important identity. Sad? Not really. The corner of her (full--perfect, too perfect) lips twitches upwards again in a lopsided (endearingly so...) smile.~

Yes you have, just not this way. You are special too--you see the world with two sets of skins and three souls, don't you? Imagine what it looks like to those who don't have thus, imagine what it seems to be to those who started everything?

~She startles when he sits up--so suddenly, and slips (...easy airy light and breezy grace) back up to her feet in one motion, fluid.~ I.. It.. It won't fade for a few days, but yes--lets! ~This said, she takes the initiative (always impulsive, no?) and throws the door open--then in a flurry of (see it? turns to mist at the ends, turns to clouds) long thick streaked hair disapears through the door (... down the rabbit hole).~