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 Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2009 9:12 pm
The marble Fa'e didn't know if she approved of being mocked, even if it was friendly. She did not fight, except with Elsbeth. Of course, she had fought those vines and the trees and the shadow-monsters in the dream, but that was a dream. No matter how much that dream had meant, it still wasn't real... real enough to save her, but not real enough to count as a really dangerous fight.
Her head was starting to hurt from these distinctions.
She made a quiet, assenting sound as she listened to Caoihme. It sounded like the beach was to the older Fa'e what stone was to Zaoll, so it was understandable even if she didn't agree.
At Caoihme's question, Zaoll shook her head. "A few days away. The sea is very green there." She paused, and then resettled herself and adjusted her glasses. "I will find you pictures?"
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Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2009 12:37 pm
Caoimhe did not notice any discomfort on the part of the marble Fa'e, but her powers of observation were typically limited to sensing an oncoming attack. She took Zaoll's sound as agreement as to the wonders of the beach and made a mental note to take the teen Fa'e there some time. It really was a wonderful beach. Caoimhe, more than anything, could remember the seas of Earth -- mostly those cold waters around the island that had been her home.
Photos? Caoi perked, and it was obvious from the color burning in her eyes. "Pictures of Scotland? You have them?" Her voice jittered with excitement. Was Zaoll talking about there or Rome? "Wait -- do you mean pictures of Rome? Or of the Irish and Scottish Isles? Both are good..." But I'd prefer the Isles. Since her youth awakening, Caoimhe had seen some photos of her home, but they were from the internet and magazines. To see ones that someone else had taken would be wonderful... Well, at least as wonderful as a photo could be. Soon, Caoimhe would return to those waters, but not yet. She didn't feel ready.
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Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2009 9:42 pm
Unfortunately, mind-reading was not one of Zaoll's powers, or she would have immediately and loudly disabused Caoihme of the notion that Zaoll liked the beach. Once, and only once, Zaoll had gone to the beach, the real beach--in Marseilles. She had promptly fallen in when her weight broke the dock she was standing on. Luckily, she could hold her breath for a time. Unluckily, there were witnesses. Luckily, she managed to pass herself off as unconscious. Unluckily, the would-be rescuer found her too heavy to move. It had been an all-around unpleasant day.
"Postcards," clarified Zaoll. "Both." She rose, gathering up her maps. "I will go get them."
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Posted: Wed Oct 28, 2009 10:24 am
It was a good thing that Caoimhe was not a mindreader. If she were, she would most certainly find a way to trick Zaoll into coming to the beach, into walking on a pier even. That way, when Zaoll fell in, Caoi could dive in after and test her rescue skills with a difficult object to move. It sounded like so much fun! Of course, she could not read minds, and so, instead, she absent-mindedly twirled a piece of hair around her finger.
Hm, postcards. Not as good as firsthand pictures. Not as good as going there personally. But still good. "Cool, that would be great," she said, lopsided grin stretching from ear to ear. When Zaoll left to retrieve the cards, Caoimhe hopped up from her spot on the ground and padded into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of orange juice -- a fruit they did not have on Aranorn -- and checked out the freezer for something delicious and already made. Oh. Hot Pockets. Total score.
She grabbed one, fussing with the plastic packaging, and then placed it on a napkin in the microwave. Seriously -- the microwave never failed to make Caoimhe get all starry-eyed. When she wanted cooked meat, she had to wait until late and night and steal a coal from the communal fire pit. Half the time, she got caught and beaten for it. The other half, she burned the crap out of her hands.
Yep, microwaves were clearly made of magic.
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