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Date Posted: 22:55:54 12/11/01 Tue
Author: Rowan and Tristan
Subject: Talkin' with the ladies
In reply to: Marz and Tia 's message, "Fun times around the campfire" on 09:36:39 12/11/01 Tue

Rowan was watching the goings on with quiet amusement, which was kind of strange for him. He’d fallen back into a melancholy mood, the same one that had struck him the moment they’d lifted off the ground on the rocs back at Kazzy’s place. Watching everyone socializing and having a good time reminded him of long ago, and how much fun he used to have when he was their age. Back then, he was always surrounded by a group of friends, but now…who did he have now? Nobody, really, at least nobody he was really close to. Cept maybe Laurel, but she didn’t count, not really.

He kept his gaze focused on the ground, since his sister could usually sense when he was thinking of home, and he didn’t want to freak her out. She always freaked out, worrying and fussing over him, until he couldn’t help but start crying again about their parents and their friends being all dead, and how it was all his fault, too. He sure as hell didn’t want to throw a scene in front of all these people, that was for sure.

So instead, he picked up a nearby stick and drew in the dirt, stenciling out runes in the earth, a slight smile coming to his face as a few silver puffs glittered upward. Lot of good it does to have magic, he mused silently. I don’t even use it anymore.

Maybe he wasn’t too crazy about killing people in cold blood, but it was what he was supposed to do, wasn’t it? And it bothered him that he’d never gotten the chance to rise to that level in the guild. Of course, he’d stolen a life or two during his exile, just as easily as he may have stolen a valuable set of diamonds, though he would never be crazy enough to tell Laurel that. Professional killing brought a load of money in, all right, but she wouldn’t be too pleased to know he’d paid for the gifts he bought her with blood money.

The sound of her voice made him look up again, and he smiled to see her doing exactly what he was doing—drawing in the dirt with a stick. Except her movements were more precise, as she first drew out the basic music scale, plucking the notes on the lute as well as singing them as she pointed to each symbol on the ground. Next, she tried to draw those little grid thingies that lute and gittern players read, but it didn’t seem to be working out. Besides, Marz appeared to be losing interest, perhaps because he was getting confused. She noticed this and immediately showed him several more chords on the lute, praising him greatly when he was able to mimic her actions.

“Excellent work!” she cried, beaming up at him. “Now, I’ve shown you a few simple songs, but it shouldn’t be too hard to put a few chords together and make your own. Go on, give it a try. I’m sure once you do, you’ll see how simple it is!”

It don’t come so naturally to all of us, sis, he thought, grinning at her silently. His attention was diverted by the reappearance of Erlic, Ravin, and Isobel, who immediately sat down and unsheathed her sword. He eyed the rather battered looking weapon curiously, wondering why she bothered to tote around such a piece of junk. Must have some sort of sentimental value to it. Or maybe…maybe it was even magic!

“Tell me your secrets,” he heard her mutter in that low, beautiful accent of hers, and he frowned sympathetically when she continued to stare silently at it.

“They’ll talk, but only if you know how to listen,” he commented, making her look up. He grinned, though he wasn’t feeling as cheerful as usual, and the expression felt slightly forced. “Swords, I mean,” he nodded toward her old blade. “Mine do. And Erlic’s, I think. He might have mentioned it a while back. Least I think he did, anyway.”

He studied her for a second and then chanced moving closer to her. He remembered she didn’t seem to like forward men, so he tried to seem as unassuming as possible. “So does your sword have secrets, Isobel?” he asked, giving her a secretive smile of his own.


When he caught Marz winking at him, it made Tristan feel suddenly shy, though he tried to shrug the feeling off. He was having a good time just sitting here, talking a little, and listening to the music, but he wouldn’t mind heading off to find the two of them a sleeping place for the night. Marz had to have his fun first, though. Marz always had to have his fun.

When the nearby musical discussion started to get a little technical, he lost interest, returning his attention to Tia. He noticed her blushing and hoped he hadn’t embarrassed her or even hurt her somehow. Since when do I care? he asked himself, annoyed by his strangely charitable feelings. But he supposed he liked Tia’s company, at least for now, so it wouldn’t do to upset her and make her go away. Then he’d have no one talk to, since Eremis had decided to chicken out and return home. He couldn’t possibly think of anyone else who’d be interested in being his friend.

He relaxed when Tia just admitted she thought she was kind of plain, although he couldn’t really agree with her. She was pretty, and she laughed a lot, and she was a great kisser, too! What was so plain about that?

“Oh,” he muttered, when she went on to explain how men found the “hourglass figure” very desirable. He couldn’t help frowning at that. To him, all women looked rather vaguely like hourglasses, unless they were grotesquely overweight. He supposed there were different levels of curvy-ness, but hell, who wanted to get so damned specific about such a silly thing?

Frankly, he didn’t quite see the comparison between her and Yorik, but he nodded anyway, thinking that’s what she wanted to hear. If anyone looked like Corum’s staff, it was that ugly kid Jeremy, whose lanky body was almost completely devoid of any muscle whatsoever. But actually, now he thought about it, Tia wasn’t really as shapely as the other two women present, and he guessed that really bugged her. That’s when he remembered Marz making some halfhearted promise to work out more so he’d look like Dalo a while back. Must be a mortal thing.

“How can you say you’re nothing special?”

He glanced at her, shaken from his thoughts, and gave her an odd look. Duh, he retorted mentally, Because I’ve been told a thousand times how particularly un-special I really am! But he kept his mouth shut on that point. Maybe it was nice to rag on Marz to her, but he wasn’t about to go into his own personal problems.

He was shocked, however, out of his self-mocking thoughts when he heard her call him extremely handsome. He felt his face go scarlet as her eyes swept over him, while she continued to comment on his apparently somewhat attractive features.

“Marz is one lucky guy,” she finished with a little smile, “to be loved by someone like you.”

Well, he just didn’t know how to take that. So he just nodded stupidly and stared at the ground, wishing with all his might that she’d go away and Marz would come back to sit beside him. Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite true, but he was feeling awfully uncomfortable right now, and at least when he was with Marz, it was okay to be embarrassed every now and then.

As soon as he stopped feeling like a complete and utter dolt, he looked up again, taking a sip from the rather tasty blackberry brandy one of the children had given him. He nodded again and rolled his eyes a bit when she pointed out that Marz would probably be learning a lot of songs tonight. He’d better not keep me awake with that gods-awful practicing of his, he thought, shaking his head, although he was finding the image of a very happy Marz parading around with a lute in his hands to be rather cute.

Tia’s next question did take him by surprise, though, but he didn’t even have time to fully comprehend it before she was bowing her head and apologizing for prying.

“Oh, no,” he hastened to assure her, “It’s no big deal. I mean…Marz and I…” he smiled sheepishly. “Well, he’s really the only one I ever get to talk to most times, so it kind of feels good to…you know…talk to someone else?”

He had no idea why he ended that in a question. He quickly cleared his throat and decided he didn’t quite look like a fool yet.

“Anyway…to answer you question---gods…where do I begin!” He frowned and took a sip of the exotic brandy, sighing slightly. Just don’t get sentimental, he warned himself. “With Marz, there’s always something to pick a fight about. I’m too cold,” he mocked, trying to mimic his lover’s angry voice, “Or too boring, or too quiet, or too anything! So then I try to change, right? Wrong! I realize I actually like the idea of…um…well, you know,” he cleared his throat again, “getting close in public and stuff, but he doesn’t…”

He paused, realized he was literally running at the mouth, and abruptly ceased.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this,” he muttered after a while. But then he sighed and gave her a somewhat confused look. “I guess I don’t really know why we fight. But I wish we’d sit down and talk about it, for once. Every time he gets pissed, he stomps off and fumes about it, or else he just shuts his mouth and makes me pry it out of him. And now he’s on this crazy spin about not being able to please me or something. I mean, really…where the hell does he come up with this shit?”

He looked at Marz again, the frustrated look dying slowly from his face as he watched him diligently practicing his new chords. “Wow,” he said, turning back to Tia and feeling a little surprised. “I wish I could talk to him the way I talked to you.”

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