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Date Posted: 01:52:35 12/13/01 Thu
Author: Rowan and Tristan
Subject: Dance fever
In reply to: Valhorek, Corum & Erlic 's message, "Dissonance, dance, and diversion" on 20:07:31 12/12/01 Wed

Rowan grinned when Isobel mentioned the supposed magical swords that could speak. Now, he had to admit, he’d never really encountered one of those, but he thought it’d be real neat. Maybe a little annoying in certain social situations, but probably quite useful in battle. It would be cool to have a sword that yelled out insults to your enemy. Then again, he thought, suppose you couldn’t get the thing to shut up, and it started shouting out curses at a dinner party or something. Of course, he’d probably be laughing his ass off at it, but some people were a little uptight about such things.

He felt strangely flattered when she turned and asked him about his own blades. Few people he came into contact with ever expressed a genuine interest in who he was and what he did. Oh, he knew Isobel couldn’t possibly have any true desire to hear all the marvelous adventures of Rowan Silvertree, but it was nice being able to discover an opening that lead to that eventual glorious end. His swords were a good enough place to start.

“Ah, well,” he said, lowering his voice slightly and scooting a bit closer, “They tell me how to move. Like this…” He withdrew one sword and swung it lightly through the air, the silver blade cutting a graceful sloping arc into the darkness. It almost seemed to hum as it moved, the tiny runes etched into its sides winking in the moonlight. “When I’m fighting, you see,” he explained, “they guide my hands.” His brow furrowed briefly. “It’s kind of hard to explain. It’s almost as if they are whispering to me as I go along.” He shrugged. “And although I can handle a sword as well as the next person, no others will work quite the same with me as my own.”

He sheathed the sword again, deciding she probably couldn’t see the sparkling runes or hear its hum. Nobody but the swords’ owner could feel the warmth that came from curling his hands around their ivory hilts, or feel the strange, tingling sensation that seeped into his palms. “I’ve heard stories of swords guiding their owners in different ways—leading them to the one they wish to take revenge on, or to reclaim their honor, that sort of thing. I used to think it was all rubbish, but I never made it to the top, so I don’t know.” He smiled wistfully. “They say the masters of my kind, back home, loved their swords more than their husbands or wives. They say some swords love battle so much that they sing when they taste blood. Dragon swords, I should think. But not all blades are meant for battle.”

He stopped talking and thought a bit, unaware that he’d been rambling on without giving her a chance to speak. He finally looked up and met her dark eyes with his light blue ones, a more easygoing smile coming to his face. “I guess I was only teasing about the secrets. I have heard of famous blades that held spell-triggered messages or whispered secrets within them, but I sure as hell wouldn’t know how to go about figuring that out.” He nodded at her battered looking weapon. “Why were you talking to yours, anyway? Something bothering you about it? I mean, yeah, it’s kind of old and rusty, but it’s not that bad. I could help you get anoth…”

He trailed off when a more lively tune than the ballads Marz had been fiddling around with earlier began to fill the air. When he turned, he saw Valhorek with the lute, and Jeremy standing beside him wearing an excited expression.

“Hey!” Rowan exclaimed, “I know that song!” It was one of those songs that came out of the magic ear things the kid carried around his backpack o’ wonders! No longer interested in discussing the intricacies of magical swords, he was suddenly reminded of the intoxicating beauty the woman sitting beside him possessed. There was music playing, he had a girl, and the dance floor was filling up (albeit with only Corum and his ten or so dance partners, but there was no reason to be so picky).

“Come on,” he said, standing up and grabbing Isobel by the hand, “Let’s dance, my little warrior goddess!” Then, with his arm around her waist, he swung her into the “dance floor” with Corum and the other women, and hoping to inspire some of the others to follow suit.


Tristan couldn’t help laughing softly in agreement when Tia pointed out that Marz must like the abnormal types, since those were the ones he hung out with. Well, she was right—there sure as hell wasn’t anything normal about Corum! He shook his head and stared at the guy, who was now dancing with one of the indecently dressed women to the weird music the healer was playing. Yeah, bet Marz would be doubly thrilled if I started carrying a stick around and talking to it, too.

The thought made him smirk, although the expression faded as he listened to what else Tia had to say. The thing about Marz craving attention kind of made sense. Just look at him…prancing around earlier and showing off his newly discovered talent, and now still surrounded by a group of onlookers. He positively shone when he was in a group. Tristan, on the other hand, tended to sort of fade into the background.

Maybe I intrigue him because I don’t dance around him so much,” he mused, his eyes still focused on the group around the lute. Marz was staring at the ground, trying to learn to read music from Laurel, and the look of growing frustration on his face made Tristan smile. He was seized with the desire to kiss the frown from his forehead, but instead he returned his attention to Tia.

He didn’t so much like the business about ‘loving and accepting yourself’ before doing the same for somebody else. It reminded him of what Naiomi had told him, too. He’d been in a fight with Marz at the time, and the other dragon hadn’t seemed to think they were going to patch things up anytime soon. The smirk returned smugly to his face. Proved her wrong. Not exactly my fault he happened to be sleeping in my bed when I got back, though.

Tia’s sudden laugh shook him from his pleasant memories, and he gave her a quizzical look. That’s when she mentioned the stuff she was drinking. “Ohhh,” he murmured, staring from her cup to her reddened cheeks and smiling slightly. Mortals! A couple glasses of the good stuff and they were gone for the night. Well, she didn’t look really all that gone, but she sure was getting funnier by the minute. He laughed when she told him to beware of blonde stick girls, or something to that nature, who liked to give advice. Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t really actually given any solid advice per se, but it had felt great to talk to somebody just the same!

He glanced at Corum again, anxious to join him all of a sudden, since he always did like to dance. He thought he’d maybe boost Tia’s self-confidence and ask her to stand up with him, but just as he turned around—Erlic appeared.

Immediately, he fell silent as he watched Marz’s teacher speak to Tia, before helping her up and leading off into the darkness. Well, what was all that about? He frowned and sighed, feeling strangely disappointed. Then he looked up again, his eyes automatically seeking out Marz. A huge grin came to his face when he saw that he was finally alone again. The moment wouldn’t last for long, he knew, so he quickly got up and hurried over to him, sitting down close beside him.

“Maybe I have this dance?” he teased, a lopsided smile coming to his face. “I liked your playing, by the way. It’s too bad Valhorek stole your lute, or else you could practice some more.” The word ‘practice’ suddenly made him think of something entirely different, however, and his expression grew more serious, if a little more excited.

“Oh, hey!” he added, his eyes lighting up some, “Don’t forget about the chakra things tonight. I want you to learn how to control that crazy magic in you, you know, as soon as possible.” He lowered his voice some, the smile returning. “I do love that fiery nature of yours, but the last thing I want to see is you accidentally blowing yourself up or something.”

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