Log Date: 12/19/96 Log Cast: Kesya, Tance, Jerrik Log Intro: Spurred on by the order of the Guildmaster -- as well as certain other reasons -- Tance Vokrim has kept a vigil outside Kesya As'shoriah's door, waiting to ask her whether she'll re-shepherd him into the Ranges. He's waited for hours, and even fallen asleep while waiting; Kesya discovered him dozing by her door, woke him, and encouraged him to come into her quarters. The nervous Tance blurted out his purpose, and, much to his elation, Kesya assured him that she really did mean her offer sincerely: she wants to go into the Ranges, _with him_. Kesya has gone on to ask whether Tance would like to go to her yellow claim or her green one; Tance, a green-adapt, has opted for the green. And he's found himself telling Kesya in the tenderest tone he's able to produce that he remembers her well, because _she_ is green.... ---------- Kesya Although taller than most women at 5'9, it is Kesya's exotic colouring that first attracts most people's gaze, and marks her as native of Taal'en. Her skin is a deep forest green, though more creamy in appearance than most, perhaps because of the Human blood in her background as evident by her silvery-blue eyes; which lack the slits common to most Taal'en natives. Thick sea-green hair frames her narrow face in loose waves, slightly softening her sharp features, and falls unbound to her shoulder blades. She has a quick and friendly smile, her small teeth appearing sharp and stark white against her dark skin. Her frame is almost willow thin, her delicate bones giving her something of a childlike appearance if it weren't for her height and the watchful way she carries herself. Her voice, when she speaks, has a lilting quality to it, perhaps because of the Taal'en trill that hasn't totally faded from years of travel. Kesya wears a standard-issue black Heptite guild jumpsuit, the dark fabric resistant to stains and tears. Numerous pockets adorn the suit, the zipper lining the front left loose to expose her slender neck. The sleeves are rolled up, and an intricately embroidered patch adorns the left breast pocket, the black Heptite Guild dodecahedron vibrantly prominent. She has a few fading bruises on her cheekbones and forehead, and she walks with a limp. Her right leg is well bandaged. You feel something is wrong as you gaze upon the pale face of Kesya. Tance(#3209POQce) This is a man of just under average height, with a skinny, gaunt build that speaks of a long span of time gone without proper sustenance for his frame. He is sallow of complexion, with the look of having once been deeply tanned, and his features now have about them a look of old, faded leather. His eyes, a dark and sullen shade of brown, are framed by lines at their corners that suggest that far too often, their owner glares at anything in his sight. His hair, a peppered mix of dark brown, lighter sunstreaks, and myriad strands of grey, has been trimmed to a short but oddly flattering style, with even a thick lock in the front to dangle above one eye and give him a more youthful look. His face is clean-shaven. He is clad in an extremely loose, baggy shirt of a pleasant leaf-green hue, the kind of shirt one might call a 'poet's shirt', incongruous with his coarse brown work pants and mud-encrusted, thick-soled work boots, as well as his usual sour demeanor. Kesya pulls out her datapad, ready to make some preparations for the upcoming trip to the Ranges. "Okay, green it is then." She glances up as the other Singer speaks; she can sense the change in his tone, but can't quite pinpoint it. So, she shrugs and smiles warmly. "I guess it is a little different. You should see the stares the recruits give me." Tance stares at you himself for a few moments as you speak, that oddly soft look still lingering in his eyes. As you mention recruits, though, he blinks, all at once appearing discomfited, and he starts to fidget in the chair. "Don't wanna watch recruits," he grumbles. Kesya laughs softly, an amused sparkle appearing in her eyes. Her slim frame rests back against the couch as she answers candidly, "Me neither. At least, for right now. They're fun to talk to though -- when I'm not so de-rezzed. Kind of reminds me what it was like when I first joined." Tance's gaze wanders around the room, nervously; at last, he shoots the plate of foodstuffs another anxious look. You can see his brow furrow -- now that his brow is actually visible and not obscured by tangled and matted hair -- at the talk of joining the Guild, though. Tance finally mumbles, "Rezzed. I haven't been rezzed in a long time..." Kesya leans forward to pick a cheese stick off one of the plates, and she takes a quick bite before responding, appearing completely at ease. These days, with all the work this Singer has to do, she usually appears stiff and a little distant. Not the case now, though. "Me either," she says lightly. Her eyes widen to emphasize the point she says, a smile crossing her lips. "I can't wait to go out and soak it all up. If I could, I'd just take a few days off and sit in a nice black vein and _recharge_." Her voice drifts off, at the thought but then she shakes her head to clear it. "So when would you like to head out?" Tance scowls grumpily. "I never find black. Just green... " His voice goes a trifle distant. "Rich or deep... pale, light, all shades... endless green green green..." His head lifts a little; his expression has gone bemused. Tance's gaze creeps back to you, as though thoughts of crystal have reminded him of your presence. Kesya smiles, her eyes softening to see the older Singer actually wearing a pleasant expression. Most Guildmembers would claim Tance's face was permanently moulded into a scowl -- if they were here now, undoubtedly they wouldn't recognise him. So too, Kesya seems to be looking at the man as though trying to figure him out for herself; when she first knew him, she was constantly re-introducing herself to a man who was snappish and downright unpleasant. Now his memory has improved -- and his temper with it, at least when he relaxes a bit. Would all that disappear once he's in the Ranges again? This thought makes her frown a bit, brows furrowing. She'll have to steel herself for the possibility, as unpleasant as it would be. Kesya shifts on the couch, her thoughts evident in the thoughtful expression that flickers across her features. She smiles then, shaking it off. "Nothing wrong with green," she says. "I'd rather find more of it." She gestures to a sculpture at the far side of the room, made of green crystal. "I was actually hoping to adapt to it when I was a recruit." Tance, when you show no sign of disapproval, grabs at a few more snacks and resumes inhaling them, at the pace of a man perpetually half-starved. He scowls again, vaguely, at the phrase 'when I was a recruit' -- but all he says is, in a plaintive mutter, "Green's.... all I got..." Kesya casts the green-adapted Singer an analytical glance, her lips pressing together for the briefest of moments. "Why do I get the feeling we're not talking just about crystal now?" She asks this with a soft smile, encouraging the man to go on. Your visitor blinks, shifts, and shrugs sulkily. From the weighty stare he's giving the tidbit of chicken being fidgeted around in his fingers, the morsel might be the most fascinating thing in the world to him, now. Entirely too rapidly, he blurts, "Y-you want me to decide when we're going?" The green-skinned Singer's thoughtful gaze rests on Tance for a few long moments, and she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees, fingers knitted together. Her hair falls forward, slightly obscuring those creamy-green features, but her gaze remains steady. "Well, yes.. that's your choice." She clears her throat, head cocked to one side. "You do know Tance, that if you ever need to talk about anything -- if you're ever bothered about anything, you can always come here?" She smiles, a little selfconciously, lightening the moment. "I know it can be tough when you don't have anyone to talk to." "I..." He finally looks at you again, the sort of look he might give a medic to ask, 'This is gonna hurt, isn't it?' Then, he blushes again, grimacing. "You'll hafta remind me, girlie." Kesya smiles slyly, obviously more confident in the fact that Tance just didn't try to brush her offer off. "Do you have your datapad with you?" Tance gives you a hesitant nod, fumbling a hand into one of his pockets. The datapad unit is produced; its cover has seen some battering since you gave it to him, but that's no more surprising than the rumpled state of his clothing. Kesya reaches, palm up, to have the datapad placed in her hand; when she gets it, she flips the unit open and taps a few keys, frowning at the screen. Kesya grins triumphantly as she closes the datapad with an audible snap. "There! Now you /can't/ forget, it's right there for you to see." She gestures to the singer with a vague wave of a hand, "But you know, you're remembering just about everything these days. Have you noticed?" The thought seems to bother him anew. He reaches for the datapad, but doesn't grasp it, and stares down at it without really seeing it. "Lot in my head.... all jumbled..." Kesya gets up, shifting from her position on the long couch to perch comfortably on one of the chairs next to Tance. Resting one arm againt the back, her hand nestled in her hair, she speaks softly. "I imagine it's quite a different experience for you. Is it confusing at all? Suddenly remembering things that you've forgotten?" Her expression is one of concern, her dark brows furrowed as she gazes at the other singer. Tance watches you move, then he visibly swallows at the question, dark eyes troubled. His mouth works again, before he finally gets out an unsteady syllable: "Yes..." Kesya's expression doesn't change. She nods, eyes still fixed on the rumpled Singer. "Which do you prefer?" An uneasy question, that -- but still, apt. It might be easier to simply forget everything, to have no responsablities or worries beyond yourself. But then, that's awfully lonely. Tance looks away, eyebrows drawing together over his eyes. "I-I... thought you wanted to talk about when to go into the Ranges..." His tone has turned gruff. The black-adapted Singer nods slowly, her voice low and smooth, betraying her ability as vocalist. "You're right." She doesn't say anything more; he knows where she is if he wants to talk, and she doesn't want to scare him off from possibly the first friendship he's had in years. She collects the plates, the mundane action breaking the mood of the moment. "I can work my training duties around this -- mostly other trainers and guildmembers are doing classes these days." She dumps the plates into the disposal unit, and returns to her seat on the couch. "When would you like to go?" Tance, his hands free of the last of the snacks he'd managed to gobble, now wrings them restlessly in his lap. The change in subject does make him relax, or at least so you might conclude. "Can... can we go tomorrow?" He looks up again at you, still unsure of eye, but now looking a bit -- despite his grey-streaked hair -- like a boy asking permission to go on an outing. Kesya chuckles softly, one hand supporting her head as she leans back, fingers buried in her thick sea-green hair. "Sure," she offers breezily. "First thing in the morning? My sled's all stocked, but it's only carrying shipsuits and supplies for me... you might want to pack some clothes and stow them before we go." Awkwardly, Tance rises. "Don't have much clothing...." He scowls again, vaguely, as if trying hard to remember something, then says with sudden firmness, "I have to get my cutter." Kesya nods emphatically, rising as well. She looks a little distracted for a moment -- perhaps her time away from the ranges, combined with all the time she spends on Shankill, is taking more of a toll than she likes to admit. It's probably a good thing she's going into the Ranges tomorrow. "That's a good idea. Everything else is in the sled, so that's about it." "Get my cutter... if it's okay... get cutter.... and then go to the Hangar..." Tance murmurs to himself, lined forehead crinkling a little, brown eyes distracted. "Go to Hangar." As he mumbles, he shuffles towards your door. Then for a moment, as if suddenly noticing where he is for the first time, his gaze creeps about the room. Tance observes absently, "Pretty..." Kesya had been following Tance towards the door, listening to his idle mutterings. As he stops, she looks around as well, following the other singer's gaze. "You think so?" She smiles at him, hands resting on her slender hips. "Thanks. This is sort of my haven from the outside world. Wanted it to remind me of back home." Tance looks back at you, or at least in the general area of your knees. "Better decorator 'n' me." Kesya snorts softly, looking vaguely amused. "Thanks. But Bayr's staff helped me out a lot. I think they just appreciated the credit I was spending." She looks around the room again, "I'm not used to having so much space. I thought the suites on ten were big, but these are huge." She gives the other singer a friendly clap on the shoulder, smiling. "With my horrid sense of direction, I'm just happy I haven't confused doors and walked myself into a closet." Tance's brown eyes widen again at the sudden gesture; his gaze tracks your green hand as it drops away from his green-clad shoulder, and finally lifts back to you, a trifle blankly. As if only half-comprehending what you're talking about, he nods, slowly. Kesya looks a little bemused at Tance's expression, her little joke backfiring. "I'd give you the tour, but you'd probably find it boring." She does note, however, the picture on the wall closest, a pen and ink of thick jungle. "The art's all mine though." With a sigh, "I've been so busy, I haven't been able to even /doodle/ in months." Kesya is probably talking as much because Tance /isn't/ rather than to relay information. What the heck, it seems to make him more comfortable. He blinks again, looking at the picture when you point it out, then he looks around slowly, perhaps noting the locations of other drawings. "You draw, too?" The question comes out of him without a brusque edge -- his tone almost one of wonder. Kesya nods, a contented smile spreading across her face. This obviously, has been a comforting hobby to her. "Sure. I used to do it all the time... had a little sketchbook with me, so I'd pull it out where ever I was... on claims, even." She chuckles softly to herself, and looks at the man as a young girl might, with a secret. "I drew one of you too, once." Kesya adds, "That's what I studied on Hesperia, before coming here. Well," she amends, "part of what I studied." Tance's eyes go round. "What in the world wouldja do a fool thing like drawing ME for?" _This_ question sounds like it ought to be brusque, too, but it sounds more thunderstruck than anything else. Kesya looks at Tance with a slightly shocked expression, and she bursts into laughter. "Why are you so surprised? I draw everybody." She disappears into one of the opposite rooms, an easel visible through the door. My, the woman can move quickly, and quietly as well, her feet light on the carpeting. Returning, she flips the small sketchbook she's carrying open. Sketches of people flash by as she searches for the right one. Shana, Delvan, Andreshella, a few landscapes, Ballybran terrain... "Ah, here it is." She passes you the book, open to the sketch of a man who looks much like Tance does now. "This was when you were in the infirmary." It can't be though... the cheeks are more fleshed out, not so gaunt. The man wears a slightly bemused expression, life shining in his dark eyes. "Do you like it?" The image is obviously Tance -- it just looks so different without the customary scowl. The man in the sketch looks happy, worry-free. Almost as he looked in the infirmary not too long ago; perhaps that's what prompted the artwork in the first place. Tance starts to grumble, as you dart off, "Nobody'd wanna look at an ugly old karker like me --" But then you're back, and the picture is before him. He cuts off, staring. "That's... me?" Kesya steps up beside the other singer, looking around his shoulder at the picture. "Sure," she says simply. "You look more like it now, being you cut your hair and shaved again. Nice, isn't it?" She grins, giving the other singer a teasing jab in the arm. "You're just not scowling in it," she says impishly. Tance is no longer scowling now, either; he stares down at the picture, and gingerly touches it with one wide fingertip. "It's... it's not... I don't look like that anymore, do I?" Is he asking you? Or himself? Kesya turns quiet, still just at your shoulder, gazing at the picture. "I think there... you look like that now. But it's the feeling in it that's not quite the same." She pauses, silver-blue eyes glancing at your brown ones. "Do you know what I mean?" Tance stammers, "I-I look.... happy there." Kesya beams at you, her eyes shining a moment before she gazes at the picture again. "Yes! You look great there. So carefree." She pats the other Singer's back absently, as she would to any of her close friends, still perusing the drawing. "More relaxed, too. You did seem pretty happy in the infirmary." She adds wryly, "Could've been because of the peach ice-cream everyone was feeding you." As you pat his shoulder, Tance can be felt to jump a little, and his grasp on the sketchbook falters even as he gives you another of those oddly defenseless looks that have been taking turns with his scowls at living on his face. Finding you just behind him, he promptly drops the book, and then just as promptly turns scarlet. "Kark it... sorry... sorry..." For an instant, then, Tance remains clumsily frozen, torn between trying to skitter a step or two away and panic that he'll tread on the book. Kesya gives the other Singer's back another reassuring pat, her smile amused. "It won't break, Tance. Shards, I've had this on a claim with me, after all." She crouches easily, picking up the book with one hand. The dog-eared pages certainly show a lot of use. "It's gone through worse, trust me." Tance's hands remain in much the same position they'd been in while he was holding the book. Now, though, they're shaking a little and he hurriedly lowers them. The blush fades, but not entirely, and he gives you a nod, trying to sound brusque again as if he hadn't just been panicstricken. "Right..." Kesya grins at the man, sensing his barriers go back up. To prove her point though, she flips the book open again. "I've even spilt food on it, see?" The image is that of the Guildmaster, looking very stern and dignified -- except that obviously a brownish smear of -- something -- has blotted out the nose. The effect makes him look, let us say, slightly less respectable. One could theorize that perhaps the stain wasn't an accident, as the guildmaster is known for berating Kesya about getting in to the Ranges. A blink, then a low splutter, and Tance smiles a little, just one side of his mouth quirking up. Kesya smiles at you, shutting the book. "I'm rather glad it's him it landed on," she says with an impish wink. "I should get around to drawing more, though. It's relaxing." As if not quite certain whether it ought to stay there, Tance's smile wavers out, then tries to waver back. "You, uh, draw real nice." Kesya favours the singer with a winsome smile at that compliment, hugging the sketchbook to her chest. "Thanks, Tance. I'm glad you think so." She opens the book again, to the picture she drew of him. "Do you want this one?" The smile stops him cold, once more wiping every trace of scowl from his features. Apparently captivated, as though he'd just gone into thrall, his gaze goes very full as he watches you reopen the book -- the book. Tance shivers, then, and asks blankly, "What?" Kesya gestures patiently to the book, looking vaguely amused. "I asked if you wanted this one." "Oh... no, no, I... I'd just get it all dirty..." Those green brows arch, as Kesya curiously glances towards Tance. "You're sure? It woudn't get messed if you just tacked it on the wall." She shrugs, and smiles. "But whatever you'd like. The stuff in here is just what I draw for fun, on the spur of a spare moment, anyway." Tance's shoulders slump a bit, and he mutters, "My walls're filthy." Kesya winks, "Time for a cleaning bot, huh? I dunno what I'd do without those things." She closes the book again, unconciously stuffing it into her thigh pocket as she used to do when she first started Singing. "Well, let me know if you'd ever like it." Tance looks down at his boots. "Can't afford it yet," he mutters. "A, uh, bot." He nods uncertainly, though, at your offer. Kesya shrugs blithely, "Borrow mine." Hands resting on the black fabric covering her slender hips she adds, "It never gets used." Glancing at the chrono over her computer, she smiles wryly. "You know, we're going to have to get some rest if we're heading to the Ranges early in the morning." Tance brightens. "The Ranges," he echoes. "The Ranges..." He then stares at you, as if seeing you anew, and with it, being struck with a deep revelation. "You need to go to sleep." Kesya smiles fondly, laughing under her breath. "Thanks Mom." She winks, "But you're right. If I don't get some shut-eye, we'll never make it to the claim at all." Tance starts bobbing his head and shuffling backwards towards your door, still looking at you, still with that strange shyness. "Hangar," he says gruffly. "In the morning." Kesya follows, her hands clasped gently before her, chuckling. "Hanger," she imitates him bemusedly, "Agreed." With a smile she adds, "Goodnight Tance," just as the door whooshes open as the sensor senses them beside it. "Goodnight... Jade," he says lowly, giving you one last full brown look before he vanishes out into the dimness of the corridor. [Tance wanders across Level 11 to his own bare, dirty quarters, but hardly notices their condition for once, with all his awareness thoroughly occupied by the -- to him -- wondrous conversation he's just had. In the meantime, however, Kesya recalls that she needs to get the scan map in her sled fixed, and steps out to get a lift up to the Hangar....] Hangar Floor The immense cavern that serves the guild faces the eastern sky. The blue sky merges with the harsh browns of the long plain of the Joslin Plataeu far to the east. The smoothly tiled floor is scarred by myriad gashes and scratches caused by wind-tossed sleds. The northern and southern walls contain over-large double doors while the western wall is set with observation windows. Looking around (+view), you notice several signs posted. The hangar is bathed in red light so as not to disturb the night vision of the pilots or personnel. Outside the hangar, Shilmore rises honey-colored and Shanganagh follows closely as they trek across the starry sky. Contents: Kesya, over by the wall. Jerrik, standing by the sled rack. Dreatha's sled Old, battered sled Repair Bay Sled Tech Desk Radar Corbin Hangar Terminal A large map, for instructional purposes Sled rack Obvious Commands ("." for list): .wall .wait .desk .radar .map .hangar door .floor Obvious Exits: Processing WWSF Transport Met Transport Equipment Room Simulators Catwalk Sorting Ready Room Jerrik comes ambling around the sled rack, patting the vehicle he's just finished inspecting, and punching in the command to send it back up into place on the racks. He blinks black eyes at the presence of a Singer in the vicinity, though, and pauses. "Can I help you, Singer?" Jerrik(#4174Pc) Short of height and stocky of build, this man has a dusky complexion, and the coal-black eyes and hair to match. From his broad shoulders, to his thickly muscled arms, to his roughly squarish features, he has a weathered and sturdy look about him, like an old bulkhead. His movements are slow and considered - but perhaps more because he is simply taking his time than because he needs to watch where he is going. He speaks in a pleasantly gruff low voice, and looks very intently at anyone who speaks in his vicinity, focusing on the movements of their lips. He is clad in a earth-brown jumpsuit and thick, sturdy black workboots, unobtrusive clothing, yet matching his dusky coloring nicely. Carrying: Repair Manual Kesya looks up from where she was just writing a note for the tech on duty. "Oh! Yes, I'm shepherding Tance in the morning, and although I don't think we'll need it, my scan map's broken." She smiles, stiffling an exhausted yawn. "Was wondering about fixing." Kesya looks at you for a moment. Jerrik starts to incline his head, already reaching for his pocket of readily accessible tools, then does a double take. "Tance... Vokrim?" Kesya seems to be elsewhere occasionally. Kesya quashes an amused smile by pressing her lips together, though she still casts Jerrik a curious look. "Yes, that's right. Why?" The sledtech scratches his head with a short, dark stumpy finger, then exhales, and chuckles. "I know he was on long-term inactive status, and the Hangar's been quieter for it..." He shakes that dark head, wonderingly. "I dunno, just the phrase 'shepherding Tance' sounding odd, I guess, Singer. You're a brave one to take him back out into the Ranges, the man's about as crystal-mazed as they get, and he bellows like a mach storm when he's in a temper." Jerrik, with that, punches up the sequence to check out your sled for you, so he can get at the map. You check Kesya's sled out, and it is lifted down from the huge rack. Kesya's sled has arrived. Kesya doesn't seem terribly concerned, and she shrugs absently. "He's changed." Jerrik snorts, but not unkindly. "I'll believe that when Galahad starts singing soprano, ma'am." Grinning a bit, the man opens up your sled to clamber within. Kesya's sled The recruit that slaved over this abused vessel did his job well. Despite the owner's attempt to fry the craft in electrical discharges in the ranges, the recruit has managed to pound the floor almost flat and scrape most of the burn marks from the walls. The cleaner removed and replaced most of the instrumentation, and obtained assistance in repairing the damage to the drive. The interior is clean, smelling only faintly of crisped plastic and cleaning fluid. This is a 2 person capacity sled. There is room in this sled for 8 cartons, 1 have been checked out. One of the special new engines has been installed, allowing for greater speeds. The console is on. The speaker is off. The auto-scanner is on. A small metal plate is fastened to the upper left corner, you can just make out "Twilight's Ambition" scratched into the surface. The weather is fine. A good day for flying. ( Type 'sled help' to see available commands. ) You repair the scan map and bill Kesya 500 credits. Jerrik skillfully repairs the scan map in Twilight's$Ambition. You step out from the cramped interior of the sled "Twilight's Ambition." Hangar Floor Contents: Obvious Commands ("." for list): .wait .sleds .desk .radar .map .hangar door .floor Obvious Exits: Processing WWSF Transport Met Transport Equipment Room Simulators Catwalk Sorting Ready Room Jerrik emerges after a bit, pocketing his tools. "You shouldn't have any more trouble for a while, Singer..." Kesya chuckles softly, casting you a sly smile. "Perhaps you'd better start watching the Deputy Guildmaster more closely, then." Kesya smiles nodding her thanks. Jerrik peers at you, squinting as though to make sure he read your lips correctly, then just grins a bit and advises, "Well, go fall into bed, ma'am. If you're shepherding Tance Vokrim you're going to need all the energy you can get." Kesya stiffles another yawn, covering her mouth with the back of one hand. "Urmph. You're right, but I think you'll be surprised tomorrow. I wouldn't shepherd him if he was acting the way he you're describing. Too dangerous." "If you say so," replies the tech, waving you off amiably. "I'll make sure your vehicle's ready to go." Kesya nods her thanks again, and with that, heads off to her room to collapse. Kesya ducks into the ready room, escaping from the swirling wind. Kesya has left. [And when the tech can't see, or anyone else who might chance to pass her in the night-darkened halls of the JPF, Kesya grins widely to herself on her way back to her quarters. To be continued....]