The Crazy Show: Curtain
Who: Zoma and Derek
Where: Derek's own slice of paradise. AKA The Alley
When: BACKSCENE end of the day on day 11, month 10, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
What: Zoma trails along behind Derek back to his private hidey hole. Where the two of them discuss what's on her mind.
11/29/2006
By sunset they're headed back to the Alley. There will be no gentlemen politely waiting for their leader to arrive there; no unfortunate soul who's stepped out of line lately and been decreed in need of correction. But from the 'duties' Derek has performed today, it might be difficult - not impossible, but difficult - to divine exactly how he knows there is no need; how he has decided, through the course of the day, to make no invitations. None save Zoma's, and hers he made many hours ago.
So he's ascending the rocks toward the cliff, toward this low, sloped and seemingly tumbled part of the cliff where his narrow little cave opens out to face the sea below, and presumably his mountain-goat of a shadow comes along not far behind. He does not turn to see her up, not even once he's in the threshhold of the Alley; he just pauses there and looks inside, as if making sure no one might have come uninvited to get their unjust due. Then Derek pads on in, barefoot like usual, and takes up a gourd and tin cups to pour fermented milk. Two cups.
Since he has not sent her away she will follow. It seems Zoma will shadow until sent away and since that has not happened she's along for the ride. Climbing up after him, even in the dark, is a breeze. Whatever her deficiencies she is a nimble woman and several times as she scrambles from rock to rock she laughs at the whole thing. Easy enough for her to find enjoyment in most anything sometimes. The day was enlightening. For her at least.
When the cave is reached she lingers by the door to observe just in case she's meant to take her leave and since she's not, there being two cups, she skips in. Skips right up to where the island leader stands. "I should be thankin' you for allowin' me the opportunity to come along with you today. Was most appreciated, Derek. You're a real sport an' all." All proper manners until she breaks into a wide grin that's too friendly and unmannerly to keep with her words.
"So I have been told." Although probably not recently. Derek finishes the pouring and puts the gourd down on the table, then turns away and pads off into the back of the cave. "Now I think you might owe me a favor," he notes, crouching beside the tidy but unordered heap of cloths and fabric that constitutes what would be a clothespress and linen closet if either presses or closets were present in the Alley, or in fact on the island. "Would you be inclined to agree?" He takes from the pile a cloth cut from one of his own shirts, long ago torn beyond repair, and wraps it around his hands with the length of fabric between.
"Already said I owed you one, yea?" Zoma says with a shrug. "You want me to owe you more than one that's plenty fine with me. Doesn't much matter to me. Not much does, yea?" She hops once and watches with a bored expression. "Still, you have to admit, it was an interesting day, yea? I mean, a little change every now and again does a body good I think. Otherwise it's all the same ole stuff over and over again, yea? You don't have to thank me or nothing for it. Happy to help. My service to you." See how good and kind she is? So helpful.
"At the moment I only require one thing." Derek straightens from his crouch, pulling the cloth tight between his hands, then turns and starts back toward the cave's forward quarters. "Have a seat, have a drink," he suggests. "And tell me why you wanted to do this, and how it has served you. To me it seems like I have probably wasted your day." He loosens the cloth, tightens it again so the warp snaps, then sidles around the table to take a seat on the side closer to the wall. "Tell me otherwise."
"Got nowhere else to be so don't see no harm in humoring you." Zoma is cheerful still, but it is one of her two moods. "Well, the answer's pretty plain." Sitting down and taking a cup she peers into it without taking a drink. "I wanted to do it because I thought it would make a nice change from my routine. It served me by being a nice change from my routine." Raising her cup in a toast she takes a drink from it and then sets the cup down. "Does that serve? I mean, I could come up with all kinds of crap. I'm afraid I am a simple girl. Got no need to do anything but because it suits me to do so."
"I am never sure whether I believe you." Derek winds one fist deeper into the fabric, doubling it around the back of his hand and through the heart of his palm. He watches the warp strain and twist and wrinkle as his hands move, and does not bother with the cup he poured for himself. "When you talk about yourself, that is. The rest, fine. I will agree. You are simple. But I would say you are simple by choice, by intent, and we do not escape our alternatives forever."
Laughing brightly into her cup, Zoma sets it down. "Derek? Don't ever believe a word I say. I don't even believe what I say. I just say whatever. It's very liberating." Thin shoulders shrug and she tips her head over to brush her ear with her shoulder. "Ain't never lied to you. Don't see any reason to. Got nothing to hide, you know? Open book. What you see is what you get."
The hand less wound is unwound, the other dragging the fabric off across his knuckles and fingers. "You must have got something out of this above simple entertainment, Zoma." Derek bunches up the fabric into the hand still bound and looks up, eyes small and grey and eternally patient, if weary. "Otherwise I think you'd have done it sooner."
"Why must there always be something else? You're too paranoid, Derek. I was bored." Zoma takes another drink, emptying her cup and then setting it down. "I was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Besides, I like to think we've gotten closer lately. Bonded, ya know? And, you're still my backup plan. Gotta be sure you remember who I am." Head tilting to the side she stretches her arms over her head and then shrugs. "I can make ya less bitchy. You like me. I'm like a dog that does funny shit. What's wrong with wantin' ta make you enjoy your day some?"
"Your backup plan?" Derek leans back a bit from the table and flicks his hand; the cloth goes unwinding off of his fingers, the tail end clutched between thumb and palm. "How am I your backup plan?" That she makes him less 'bitchy' he does not address; that may be as close to agreement as she is liable to get.
Her head tilts to the other side now. Back and forth. Just like a dog looking at something that puzzles them. "Sure. Little brother falls through I figure you owe me you do me what you got to. Then we're done, yea?" Shrugging her shoulders she grins. "Just gotta do one thing before I can die happy, ya know? That's why I gotta have backup plans. You're it. Don't figure someone will disappoint me. You or my little bro. Someone will see me through. S'all that matters. Now til then? All just a game. Got no use for everyone and their going back for good." Zoma grins again. "Suppose I can help I do, but ain't for me."
"Zoma." Derek folds his arms, the trailing bit of fabric hanging from one hand tucked into an elbow like a tattered flag. "You are aware, right, that if I were to take care of your little vendetta, I would do so not as favor, nor because I owe it to you - but because it would please me to do so?"
"Derek, you realise I just need a lift, yes?" Zoma smiles, brilliantly. Leaning back some where she sits she shakes her head. "You think I want you or Kat to handle my brother for me? You're crazy. He's mine." Her eyes glint with hard amusement now, nothing cheerful in her expression. "He forgot what was important. I'm going to remind him. Don't need your help. Don't need his help. Just need a lift is all."
"Then make friends with dragonriders," replies Derek, a little cold. And he unfolds his arms, and gets up from the table, scooping up his cup along the way. "Is there anything else I can show you today?" After the question he indulges in the drink, eyes all but closing as the cup tips up.
"You're no fun. And now you're getting all bitchy. Really, it's hurting my feelings." Zoma pouts and then laughs merrily. "Whatever though. I forgive you. It's my nature to be forgiving. When it's interesting." Standing up she smiles. "Now you want me to go. I understand. It's hard to spend so much time with me and not be overwhelmed. Always been a problem. I got a forceful personality."
"And I have none," replies Derek, pleasantly, through a thin smile. "Thank you for your help today, Zoma. I wish I had some sensation that what you've done has been more help to you."
Hopping a few steps from the table, Zoma turns around and sketches a salute. "Oh, don't worry, Derek. It was. Truth is? I'm spying on you. Learning your ways. Yep. Not sure why. But I figure can't hurt! You have a good night. You hear a noise that's too loud you don't worry it's just me falling to my death." A wink at this and she turns to make her way out.
He does not emote well, and there is little response more than a lift of his chin at her assertion that she's spying. But something else she says must have some small effect upon him, an effect she will - if he has his way - never know.
From time to time Derek drifts to the cavemouth and does look down. Just checking, scanning the rocks that frame the Alley's mouth. Just in case.
When Zoma's gone from sight, around the edge of the cliff or far enough down the beach that he can't see her, he builds a fire and goes about the rest of his evening.
Where: Derek's own slice of paradise. AKA The Alley
When: BACKSCENE end of the day on day 11, month 10, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
What: Zoma trails along behind Derek back to his private hidey hole. Where the two of them discuss what's on her mind.
11/29/2006
By sunset they're headed back to the Alley. There will be no gentlemen politely waiting for their leader to arrive there; no unfortunate soul who's stepped out of line lately and been decreed in need of correction. But from the 'duties' Derek has performed today, it might be difficult - not impossible, but difficult - to divine exactly how he knows there is no need; how he has decided, through the course of the day, to make no invitations. None save Zoma's, and hers he made many hours ago.
So he's ascending the rocks toward the cliff, toward this low, sloped and seemingly tumbled part of the cliff where his narrow little cave opens out to face the sea below, and presumably his mountain-goat of a shadow comes along not far behind. He does not turn to see her up, not even once he's in the threshhold of the Alley; he just pauses there and looks inside, as if making sure no one might have come uninvited to get their unjust due. Then Derek pads on in, barefoot like usual, and takes up a gourd and tin cups to pour fermented milk. Two cups.
Since he has not sent her away she will follow. It seems Zoma will shadow until sent away and since that has not happened she's along for the ride. Climbing up after him, even in the dark, is a breeze. Whatever her deficiencies she is a nimble woman and several times as she scrambles from rock to rock she laughs at the whole thing. Easy enough for her to find enjoyment in most anything sometimes. The day was enlightening. For her at least.
When the cave is reached she lingers by the door to observe just in case she's meant to take her leave and since she's not, there being two cups, she skips in. Skips right up to where the island leader stands. "I should be thankin' you for allowin' me the opportunity to come along with you today. Was most appreciated, Derek. You're a real sport an' all." All proper manners until she breaks into a wide grin that's too friendly and unmannerly to keep with her words.
"So I have been told." Although probably not recently. Derek finishes the pouring and puts the gourd down on the table, then turns away and pads off into the back of the cave. "Now I think you might owe me a favor," he notes, crouching beside the tidy but unordered heap of cloths and fabric that constitutes what would be a clothespress and linen closet if either presses or closets were present in the Alley, or in fact on the island. "Would you be inclined to agree?" He takes from the pile a cloth cut from one of his own shirts, long ago torn beyond repair, and wraps it around his hands with the length of fabric between.
"Already said I owed you one, yea?" Zoma says with a shrug. "You want me to owe you more than one that's plenty fine with me. Doesn't much matter to me. Not much does, yea?" She hops once and watches with a bored expression. "Still, you have to admit, it was an interesting day, yea? I mean, a little change every now and again does a body good I think. Otherwise it's all the same ole stuff over and over again, yea? You don't have to thank me or nothing for it. Happy to help. My service to you." See how good and kind she is? So helpful.
"At the moment I only require one thing." Derek straightens from his crouch, pulling the cloth tight between his hands, then turns and starts back toward the cave's forward quarters. "Have a seat, have a drink," he suggests. "And tell me why you wanted to do this, and how it has served you. To me it seems like I have probably wasted your day." He loosens the cloth, tightens it again so the warp snaps, then sidles around the table to take a seat on the side closer to the wall. "Tell me otherwise."
"Got nowhere else to be so don't see no harm in humoring you." Zoma is cheerful still, but it is one of her two moods. "Well, the answer's pretty plain." Sitting down and taking a cup she peers into it without taking a drink. "I wanted to do it because I thought it would make a nice change from my routine. It served me by being a nice change from my routine." Raising her cup in a toast she takes a drink from it and then sets the cup down. "Does that serve? I mean, I could come up with all kinds of crap. I'm afraid I am a simple girl. Got no need to do anything but because it suits me to do so."
"I am never sure whether I believe you." Derek winds one fist deeper into the fabric, doubling it around the back of his hand and through the heart of his palm. He watches the warp strain and twist and wrinkle as his hands move, and does not bother with the cup he poured for himself. "When you talk about yourself, that is. The rest, fine. I will agree. You are simple. But I would say you are simple by choice, by intent, and we do not escape our alternatives forever."
Laughing brightly into her cup, Zoma sets it down. "Derek? Don't ever believe a word I say. I don't even believe what I say. I just say whatever. It's very liberating." Thin shoulders shrug and she tips her head over to brush her ear with her shoulder. "Ain't never lied to you. Don't see any reason to. Got nothing to hide, you know? Open book. What you see is what you get."
The hand less wound is unwound, the other dragging the fabric off across his knuckles and fingers. "You must have got something out of this above simple entertainment, Zoma." Derek bunches up the fabric into the hand still bound and looks up, eyes small and grey and eternally patient, if weary. "Otherwise I think you'd have done it sooner."
"Why must there always be something else? You're too paranoid, Derek. I was bored." Zoma takes another drink, emptying her cup and then setting it down. "I was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Besides, I like to think we've gotten closer lately. Bonded, ya know? And, you're still my backup plan. Gotta be sure you remember who I am." Head tilting to the side she stretches her arms over her head and then shrugs. "I can make ya less bitchy. You like me. I'm like a dog that does funny shit. What's wrong with wantin' ta make you enjoy your day some?"
"Your backup plan?" Derek leans back a bit from the table and flicks his hand; the cloth goes unwinding off of his fingers, the tail end clutched between thumb and palm. "How am I your backup plan?" That she makes him less 'bitchy' he does not address; that may be as close to agreement as she is liable to get.
Her head tilts to the other side now. Back and forth. Just like a dog looking at something that puzzles them. "Sure. Little brother falls through I figure you owe me you do me what you got to. Then we're done, yea?" Shrugging her shoulders she grins. "Just gotta do one thing before I can die happy, ya know? That's why I gotta have backup plans. You're it. Don't figure someone will disappoint me. You or my little bro. Someone will see me through. S'all that matters. Now til then? All just a game. Got no use for everyone and their going back for good." Zoma grins again. "Suppose I can help I do, but ain't for me."
"Zoma." Derek folds his arms, the trailing bit of fabric hanging from one hand tucked into an elbow like a tattered flag. "You are aware, right, that if I were to take care of your little vendetta, I would do so not as favor, nor because I owe it to you - but because it would please me to do so?"
"Derek, you realise I just need a lift, yes?" Zoma smiles, brilliantly. Leaning back some where she sits she shakes her head. "You think I want you or Kat to handle my brother for me? You're crazy. He's mine." Her eyes glint with hard amusement now, nothing cheerful in her expression. "He forgot what was important. I'm going to remind him. Don't need your help. Don't need his help. Just need a lift is all."
"Then make friends with dragonriders," replies Derek, a little cold. And he unfolds his arms, and gets up from the table, scooping up his cup along the way. "Is there anything else I can show you today?" After the question he indulges in the drink, eyes all but closing as the cup tips up.
"You're no fun. And now you're getting all bitchy. Really, it's hurting my feelings." Zoma pouts and then laughs merrily. "Whatever though. I forgive you. It's my nature to be forgiving. When it's interesting." Standing up she smiles. "Now you want me to go. I understand. It's hard to spend so much time with me and not be overwhelmed. Always been a problem. I got a forceful personality."
"And I have none," replies Derek, pleasantly, through a thin smile. "Thank you for your help today, Zoma. I wish I had some sensation that what you've done has been more help to you."
Hopping a few steps from the table, Zoma turns around and sketches a salute. "Oh, don't worry, Derek. It was. Truth is? I'm spying on you. Learning your ways. Yep. Not sure why. But I figure can't hurt! You have a good night. You hear a noise that's too loud you don't worry it's just me falling to my death." A wink at this and she turns to make her way out.
He does not emote well, and there is little response more than a lift of his chin at her assertion that she's spying. But something else she says must have some small effect upon him, an effect she will - if he has his way - never know.
From time to time Derek drifts to the cavemouth and does look down. Just checking, scanning the rocks that frame the Alley's mouth. Just in case.
When Zoma's gone from sight, around the edge of the cliff or far enough down the beach that he can't see her, he builds a fire and goes about the rest of his evening.