Fishy cards
Who: Zoma and Aivey
Where: A beach on an island
When: 11:23 on day 16, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Aivey wants to talk to Zoma who is really in no mood /to/ talk. Still, a lot is said anyway.
3/8/2007
On the exiles' island, it is 11:23 on day 16, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
The late morning finds this part of the beach empty. In the morning there had been some people out gathering anything washed up ashore. After lunch not so far down the beach people will be out casting nets. For now there's no one in sight. The only thing to indicate someone has been here are all the footsteps in the sand. One pair still has someone attached to it. It has wound around the holes that remain, a testament to someone's industriousness. They end up in the surf where Zoma crouches down in the water. Her back is to the beach and she's focused on something in her hands. Or doing something with her hands, but it's rather hard to tell from behind her. Whatever it is she is up to there's no noise from her.
A silent Zoma is a strange Zoma, or so Aivey treats the woman as she happens upon the beach and those footprints attached to feet (attached to Zoma). The holes are skirted, the limping of one leg now down to a minimal amount. Slightly flushed from too much sun, Aivey sends a side-long look at the water, and then one back to Zoma's back before resuming her soft-footed approach.
Zoma is busy, busy with her task and has not noticed any strange creatures approaching from behind. She is still silent, not a sound other than the waves as they ignore her and make their way to the beach and then back out to the sea. Head bowed to her work she behaves like she's the last person left in the world and must be about that quietly.
It's a match then; Zoma's quietness for Aivey's. The island king's daughter continues sneaking up on Zoma, not choosing to announce her presence once she plants herself behind the crouched woman. Folding her arms over her stomach and tilting her head downwards, Aivey waits, her eyes narrowed in calculation and consideration of the woman. Studying, observing. Assessing.
There is no island, therefore no island king and no king's pesky daughter. There is just Zoma and the seashell in her hands. The one she uses to slice at some poor fish she's managed to catch. Likely the creature died sometime ago either from the cuts of the edge of a shell or from being held above water. So close to safety and so far either. The work continues, no indication Aivey's presence has been noted. There is, after all, a fish in this world that requires her attention.
A dead fish, sure. Aivey's nose wrinkles at the smell, and it's likely an inability to stomach it that has her at last breaking her silence. Namely with an irritated little cough, edged with the same impatience Aivey feels at having been ignored for so long. "We should talk," She adds as an afterthought, "Or you can keep ignoring me and I'll talk and you can listen."
The shell continues it's play with the fish until somewhere the normal part of her brain pokes the rest of it and reminds Zoma she has company. The fish slips from her hands and up stands Zoma. Spinning around on feet long accustomed to sand under water or otherwise she looks at Aivey with a startled, perhaps fearful, expression. "Where'd you come from? Don't care who sent you. Can't make me do anything."
"I've no interest in making you do anything," Aivey replies, a distasteful note still tainting her tone, "-I wanted to talk with you. You'll talk with me, won't you?"
Holding the shell in her hand tighter, ignoring any cuts the edge might be making into her own palm, Zoma gives a hesitant nod. "Can talk. Good at talking. Always was good at talking." She smiles at this, the expression coming nowhere near her eyes which are entirely too weary for such things. "It was dead when I found it. Washed up dead. Didn't do anything to it."
"Never said you did," Aivey replies, her tone slowly switching to a more soothing one. Like the people use to talk to her at the weyr type of soothing; she does not, however, regard Zoma in any such dismissive way. "Need you to tell me what exactly it was you meant. Since I'm not in the game and all... maybe you can fill in the blanks."
"What I meant about what?" Zoma holds up her shell, covered in fish parts, but she gestures around with it like it's some trophy. "See. Shells. Seashells." Her laugh has no taint of one of her more manic moods. It's the laugh of someone who is perfectly normal so is a lie, but other than sounding rough from disuse it's not so bad. "Always looking for what you didn't have and not even seeing what you could use in front of you. S'why he doesn't you in the game. Didn't say you weren't in it. Said he was gonna try to keep you out. Thinks he can. Think he can myself you don't learn. But not my worry, is it?"
Taking her time, Aivey listens to Zoma, focusing more on what's said than she does on actions offered. "My father wouldn't do that to me," Aivey offers, "I've proven-" Her head shake is aborted, and a tiny, peaceful smile appears, "I played games, Zoma. Did you know that? Maybe not the same as yours or his... but I played them."
Head shaking, Zoma laughs again, her 'normal' laugh. "You don't think you know him, do you? You don't know him at all. No one does. No one can. Cause he's not right." She taps her head a few times. "He's not right and if you're his daughter you ain't right either. But I don't think you are. Think you're someone else's. Think you may have been unhappy that first time we met I was following him around. Unhappy, but you did nothing." Stopping here, she flings the shell over her shoulder so it will disappear into the ocean like she wants the island to. "But you sure did something I touched the other one. You made your choice. You may not think you have, but you have. Will try to be daddy's little girl, but you're not. Think he wants you to be?"
Aivey's expression tenses, the whole of her tenses at Zoma's words. Hands held into tight fists though hidden as they're stuffed under the opposing arm, she says, "I /am/ his daughter. The fact that you're still alive sort of proves that," Meaning is there that Aivey doesn't bother elaborating on. "Only person here whose not right is you. I'm wasting my time even thinking about it."
"So, you didn't think of yourself as his daughter you'd kill me? That'd sure prove you were his, alright. Defying his rules. You think he wouldn't do what he had to? You think he's got it so easy you'd get away with it? Not as weak as they seem." Zoma snorts and then wipes her palm off on her stomach, leaving the thinnest of trails of blood over her skin. "You think I'm the only one not right you ain't met no one. You're not. Your little boyfriend isn't. You dad isn't. None of em are. No one's right here. Everyone's wrong. Everything's wrong. Too dumb to see it. No one listens. No one hears. You'll all find out. Not his daughter." The last sentence comes with a smirk. It seems appropriate.
Aivey's smile remains serene, some peace of mind gained, "You're alive because he is my father. Anyone less and I wouldn't bother listening to them." Common knowledge for anyone that knows her. "We're not right, I'll give you that. It's why we're here. But even by our standards, dear Zoma, you're not right. You're going to get left behind again."
Zoma laughs and turns her head to look behind her at the ocean. "I never once claimed I was right, Aivey." Once the sentence is given she looks back at the other woman. "Never once claimed I was right. Not once ever. Know what I am. Left me here. Leave me here. Leave Zoma behind." Another smile, serene to match the one she saw. "You don't believe me. What he said about you not sittin' at the table. Not my mind. Doesn't bother me. But you say I get left behind. You say it like it's not what I want. Ain't no Zoma back there." Dropping one hand to the pouch at her waist, where her cards would be, where for once she's not left them safely out of harms way on the sand away from the waves. "Almost no Zoma here. Can send her away right now. You wouldn't like it."
"Wasn't then, but I am now. There's a difference," Aivey corrects gently - belittlingly - "Might not be right at his side, but I'm okay with that, Zoma." Though Aivey's eyes don't move, her peripheral vision allows her to see Zoma's reach for her cards, "Eight of Holds, wasn't it?"
"Oh, Aivey. He keeps you out. He does. You may not be seeing it, but he does." Zoma shakes her head, a pitying look cast upon Aivey. "Not your fault you don't know what to look for. But it's there. There and obvious to those that know what to look for. Don't know him. Don't claim to, but I do. Do know him." Hand wrapping around the pouch she shakes her head. "That one's gone. There's all going to be gone soon. All of them. Over half and it's done. Said so and will make it happen. Want it to happen, but it's not time yet. Not done yet. Almost. Tired."
"Which one are you, Zoma?" Aivey asks, focusing her intent on the cards, "How many are left before they're all gone? What're you going to do then, hm?"
"That's stupid, Aivey. They're cards. How am I one of them?" Zoma blinks and peers, looking quite confused. "That doesn't even make sense. Don't have to be all gone. Just the right ones. What he said, the right ones. So. . .waiting." Wiping sea water and hair from her face she smiles. "Then I'm going to be done. All done. Finished."
"How stupid of me," Aivey laments, appropriately contrite, "Of course cards can't be people... which ones," Stressing those two words, "Are the right ones, Zoma?"
"You can't help it. How you were raised, right? Some people, they don't see things right cause of how they were raised." Zoma grins at this, all sympathy and happiness. "Not your fault so I don' hold it 'gainst you at all. Not your fault!" Hopping up and down a few times to splash in the water she giggles. "If you were meant to know they would have told you already. But they didn't. Cause it's not yours to know!"
"Lots of things I'm not meant to know," Aivey assures Zoma, stepping back from the splashes of water and, more likely, the hopping woman herself, "I still find out. I'll let you get back to your fish, Zoma. Try not to have too much fun." Aivey takes another step back and pivots on her heel, turning around and walking away.
"He didn't like me. He left." The fish. She must mean the fish. Zoma turns her back on Aivey as the other woman walks away. She just stares out at the ocean, rocking back and forth in time with the waves.
Where: A beach on an island
When: 11:23 on day 16, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Aivey wants to talk to Zoma who is really in no mood /to/ talk. Still, a lot is said anyway.
3/8/2007
On the exiles' island, it is 11:23 on day 16, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
The late morning finds this part of the beach empty. In the morning there had been some people out gathering anything washed up ashore. After lunch not so far down the beach people will be out casting nets. For now there's no one in sight. The only thing to indicate someone has been here are all the footsteps in the sand. One pair still has someone attached to it. It has wound around the holes that remain, a testament to someone's industriousness. They end up in the surf where Zoma crouches down in the water. Her back is to the beach and she's focused on something in her hands. Or doing something with her hands, but it's rather hard to tell from behind her. Whatever it is she is up to there's no noise from her.
A silent Zoma is a strange Zoma, or so Aivey treats the woman as she happens upon the beach and those footprints attached to feet (attached to Zoma). The holes are skirted, the limping of one leg now down to a minimal amount. Slightly flushed from too much sun, Aivey sends a side-long look at the water, and then one back to Zoma's back before resuming her soft-footed approach.
Zoma is busy, busy with her task and has not noticed any strange creatures approaching from behind. She is still silent, not a sound other than the waves as they ignore her and make their way to the beach and then back out to the sea. Head bowed to her work she behaves like she's the last person left in the world and must be about that quietly.
It's a match then; Zoma's quietness for Aivey's. The island king's daughter continues sneaking up on Zoma, not choosing to announce her presence once she plants herself behind the crouched woman. Folding her arms over her stomach and tilting her head downwards, Aivey waits, her eyes narrowed in calculation and consideration of the woman. Studying, observing. Assessing.
There is no island, therefore no island king and no king's pesky daughter. There is just Zoma and the seashell in her hands. The one she uses to slice at some poor fish she's managed to catch. Likely the creature died sometime ago either from the cuts of the edge of a shell or from being held above water. So close to safety and so far either. The work continues, no indication Aivey's presence has been noted. There is, after all, a fish in this world that requires her attention.
A dead fish, sure. Aivey's nose wrinkles at the smell, and it's likely an inability to stomach it that has her at last breaking her silence. Namely with an irritated little cough, edged with the same impatience Aivey feels at having been ignored for so long. "We should talk," She adds as an afterthought, "Or you can keep ignoring me and I'll talk and you can listen."
The shell continues it's play with the fish until somewhere the normal part of her brain pokes the rest of it and reminds Zoma she has company. The fish slips from her hands and up stands Zoma. Spinning around on feet long accustomed to sand under water or otherwise she looks at Aivey with a startled, perhaps fearful, expression. "Where'd you come from? Don't care who sent you. Can't make me do anything."
"I've no interest in making you do anything," Aivey replies, a distasteful note still tainting her tone, "-I wanted to talk with you. You'll talk with me, won't you?"
Holding the shell in her hand tighter, ignoring any cuts the edge might be making into her own palm, Zoma gives a hesitant nod. "Can talk. Good at talking. Always was good at talking." She smiles at this, the expression coming nowhere near her eyes which are entirely too weary for such things. "It was dead when I found it. Washed up dead. Didn't do anything to it."
"Never said you did," Aivey replies, her tone slowly switching to a more soothing one. Like the people use to talk to her at the weyr type of soothing; she does not, however, regard Zoma in any such dismissive way. "Need you to tell me what exactly it was you meant. Since I'm not in the game and all... maybe you can fill in the blanks."
"What I meant about what?" Zoma holds up her shell, covered in fish parts, but she gestures around with it like it's some trophy. "See. Shells. Seashells." Her laugh has no taint of one of her more manic moods. It's the laugh of someone who is perfectly normal so is a lie, but other than sounding rough from disuse it's not so bad. "Always looking for what you didn't have and not even seeing what you could use in front of you. S'why he doesn't you in the game. Didn't say you weren't in it. Said he was gonna try to keep you out. Thinks he can. Think he can myself you don't learn. But not my worry, is it?"
Taking her time, Aivey listens to Zoma, focusing more on what's said than she does on actions offered. "My father wouldn't do that to me," Aivey offers, "I've proven-" Her head shake is aborted, and a tiny, peaceful smile appears, "I played games, Zoma. Did you know that? Maybe not the same as yours or his... but I played them."
Head shaking, Zoma laughs again, her 'normal' laugh. "You don't think you know him, do you? You don't know him at all. No one does. No one can. Cause he's not right." She taps her head a few times. "He's not right and if you're his daughter you ain't right either. But I don't think you are. Think you're someone else's. Think you may have been unhappy that first time we met I was following him around. Unhappy, but you did nothing." Stopping here, she flings the shell over her shoulder so it will disappear into the ocean like she wants the island to. "But you sure did something I touched the other one. You made your choice. You may not think you have, but you have. Will try to be daddy's little girl, but you're not. Think he wants you to be?"
Aivey's expression tenses, the whole of her tenses at Zoma's words. Hands held into tight fists though hidden as they're stuffed under the opposing arm, she says, "I /am/ his daughter. The fact that you're still alive sort of proves that," Meaning is there that Aivey doesn't bother elaborating on. "Only person here whose not right is you. I'm wasting my time even thinking about it."
"So, you didn't think of yourself as his daughter you'd kill me? That'd sure prove you were his, alright. Defying his rules. You think he wouldn't do what he had to? You think he's got it so easy you'd get away with it? Not as weak as they seem." Zoma snorts and then wipes her palm off on her stomach, leaving the thinnest of trails of blood over her skin. "You think I'm the only one not right you ain't met no one. You're not. Your little boyfriend isn't. You dad isn't. None of em are. No one's right here. Everyone's wrong. Everything's wrong. Too dumb to see it. No one listens. No one hears. You'll all find out. Not his daughter." The last sentence comes with a smirk. It seems appropriate.
Aivey's smile remains serene, some peace of mind gained, "You're alive because he is my father. Anyone less and I wouldn't bother listening to them." Common knowledge for anyone that knows her. "We're not right, I'll give you that. It's why we're here. But even by our standards, dear Zoma, you're not right. You're going to get left behind again."
Zoma laughs and turns her head to look behind her at the ocean. "I never once claimed I was right, Aivey." Once the sentence is given she looks back at the other woman. "Never once claimed I was right. Not once ever. Know what I am. Left me here. Leave me here. Leave Zoma behind." Another smile, serene to match the one she saw. "You don't believe me. What he said about you not sittin' at the table. Not my mind. Doesn't bother me. But you say I get left behind. You say it like it's not what I want. Ain't no Zoma back there." Dropping one hand to the pouch at her waist, where her cards would be, where for once she's not left them safely out of harms way on the sand away from the waves. "Almost no Zoma here. Can send her away right now. You wouldn't like it."
"Wasn't then, but I am now. There's a difference," Aivey corrects gently - belittlingly - "Might not be right at his side, but I'm okay with that, Zoma." Though Aivey's eyes don't move, her peripheral vision allows her to see Zoma's reach for her cards, "Eight of Holds, wasn't it?"
"Oh, Aivey. He keeps you out. He does. You may not be seeing it, but he does." Zoma shakes her head, a pitying look cast upon Aivey. "Not your fault you don't know what to look for. But it's there. There and obvious to those that know what to look for. Don't know him. Don't claim to, but I do. Do know him." Hand wrapping around the pouch she shakes her head. "That one's gone. There's all going to be gone soon. All of them. Over half and it's done. Said so and will make it happen. Want it to happen, but it's not time yet. Not done yet. Almost. Tired."
"Which one are you, Zoma?" Aivey asks, focusing her intent on the cards, "How many are left before they're all gone? What're you going to do then, hm?"
"That's stupid, Aivey. They're cards. How am I one of them?" Zoma blinks and peers, looking quite confused. "That doesn't even make sense. Don't have to be all gone. Just the right ones. What he said, the right ones. So. . .waiting." Wiping sea water and hair from her face she smiles. "Then I'm going to be done. All done. Finished."
"How stupid of me," Aivey laments, appropriately contrite, "Of course cards can't be people... which ones," Stressing those two words, "Are the right ones, Zoma?"
"You can't help it. How you were raised, right? Some people, they don't see things right cause of how they were raised." Zoma grins at this, all sympathy and happiness. "Not your fault so I don' hold it 'gainst you at all. Not your fault!" Hopping up and down a few times to splash in the water she giggles. "If you were meant to know they would have told you already. But they didn't. Cause it's not yours to know!"
"Lots of things I'm not meant to know," Aivey assures Zoma, stepping back from the splashes of water and, more likely, the hopping woman herself, "I still find out. I'll let you get back to your fish, Zoma. Try not to have too much fun." Aivey takes another step back and pivots on her heel, turning around and walking away.
"He didn't like me. He left." The fish. She must mean the fish. Zoma turns her back on Aivey as the other woman walks away. She just stares out at the ocean, rocking back and forth in time with the waves.