futurology | voice, @TARANTO

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voice, @TARANTO

So we got a buncha old fashioned guys who are used to swinging around swords all the time and stuff, right? It seems like it, I can't go 20 feet without tripping over someone that's never seen a minipad before. God, would it kill that rift stuff to start taking more people from the modern era?

Anyway, point is I need one of you guys — or, hell, a buncha you guys — to start teaching. I've got some students in mind, foremost being me, because the training room here doesn't cut it if you've never even seen a fucking sword before. And if anyone else sucks at medieval stuff too lemme know, we'll make it a whole party.

Achilles and Koltira, you guys are my top medieval guys that know what you're doing, don't you fucking ignore this.

[ a beat ]

Also, I've got this little super strength issue where I might break any weapons I try and use, so... there's that, too. Still working on that obstacle. Any ideas, lemme know.

[ ooc: here's a planning post for teaching stuff!! ]

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Oh shit, really? Nice! What's the several days for, eye growth? You can't do that up and about?

I think it's like... for afterwards?

I don't know what kind of optometrists you have in the future, but do you still have that thing where they put drops in your eyes to dilate them, and then for the rest of the afternoon you have to wear sunglasses and stumble around and squint at anything brighter than a candle? I get the sense that it'll be something like that, but, you know... more.

I think I'm gonna be staying in my room a lot. I'm supposed to wear the patch on and off for the first couple of days it's back.

[ okay, that gets a laugh ]

Sounds fucking archaic. Anyway, whatever, I'll bring you stuff. Magazines and ice cream, or something.

Oh, you will be my hero. Snatch me from a fate worse than death.

Apparently for the first day, reading small text is liable to give me the mother of all headaches. I'm going to be bored out of my little mind. Come, distract me, it will get you so many brownie points.

Hell yeah, I'm on it. Maybe without magazines. Then again — wait, you didn't have minipads yet, did you?

Not, like, under that name. We've got tablets and phones and like... six million devices in the size range in between. And I think someone's recently put out a flexible screen, so. I mean, you are talking about -- [he gestures, making a little square with his hands --] little portable computing devices, right?

Yeah, basically. Minipad's pretty much anything you want. Except there's no fucking network here outside of this bullshit jewelry stuff, so all the stuff I got downloaded on mine is all the stuff I got. It sucks.

But I've got some mindless reading material, text as big as you want it and screen as dim as you can read it.

How mindless are we talking, here? Trashy romance novel or sci-fi pulp fiction?

You think I wouldn't have either of those? Take your fuckin' pick.

Anyway, I'll let you dig through it when I stop by, sound good?

Oh, but romance novels lose something when they don't have pages and don't automatically flop open to the first sex scene.

I suppose I'll manage with hacky sci-fi. Or maybe if you have some Miss Marple. Yeah, that sounds good; apparently this thing will take place tomorrow in the a.m. sometime. Maybe don't come round till dinnertime in case I'm a total embarrassing mess at first.

Zero Miss Marple [ what the fuck is that ] and don't worry, you can't embarrass yourself much more to me than you have already.

Anyway, see you soon.

Oh, Ramir, you are just so good for the ego. Just a salve for the soul.

See you, then.

[He'll hang up on his end of the network then, aware -- and grudgingly, irritatingly amused -- that somehow he's allowed himself to be roped into weapons training. Good christ.

Ah, at least he'll have someone to keep him company while he's... well, however convalescent he'll be tomorrow.]

[ And, as promised, she's there the following evening. Best not ask how she figured out where to go, the answer won't be a good one. Her knock on the door is loud and demanding, and really leaves very little question as to who it could be on the other side.

But just in case he doesn't get the picture: ]

Hey, it's me! Lemme in.

[She's answered by a yeti-groan of exasperation from beyond the door. Evan had already been up and coming to open it when she'd hollered.] Hang on.

[A moment later he yanks the door open halfway and steps back. The curtain is drawn, the lights are all off except the one on his desk, which is pointed low at his desk so there isn't much glare to speak of. The little hearth his chosen room has has a fire in it, but again, it's low.

And Evan is still wearing his eyepatch. With even his good eye squinting at the glare from the hallway, he beckons her in.]

Close the door behind you?

[ She obligingly steps in and nudges the door shut behind her with the toe of a boot, attention all on Evan. He still looks pretty much like shit, but she's used to that. She's been seeing him looking like shit for a while. ]

Hey. [ It's a little softer than the trumpeting entrance. ] How're you doing?

[Relief once the door is closed makes Evan stand a bit straighter. The mostly-dark room might or might not have been overkill, but it was making him feel better about easing into his recovery and even if the photophobic headaches would go away, they were kind of taxing.

Ramir's question, though, that actually makes him grin. Instead of answering, he reaches up and moves his patch, slipping it upwards for a moment.

The skin around his eye socket and up his forehead, that had been marred with claws-marks, is smooth and whole again. More notably, from behind his newly-whole -- if deeply squinted -- eyelids, a slim sliver of eye can be seen.]

I've been worse. [There's a simmer of merriment behind his subdued manner that spikes for a moment as he says that. He lets the patch slip back into place.]

[ She's quick to study the sight as soon as it's offered, and — huh. No as bad as expected. She even smiles a little, relieved to see that it's looking more intact and... well, human again. ]

Yeah, you're fine. [ She reaches to pat his forearm, and from there uses it to give a little push back towards the main of the room. Where ever he wants to sit them down is fine by her, she'll follow. ] Too bad you wont have any badass facial scars, though. Ladies love those.

[He scoffs, easily enough backing up into the room.] Ladies may love them but my vanity does not. Such as it is.

I've never really thought of myself as vain but I admit, I haven't really been the biggest fan of mirrors this past month.

[There's a chair by the desk, which is next to the bed; he perches his rump on the edge of the bed and leaves the nice carved antique-looking chair for her.]

[ She puts a couple seconds into a cursory consideration of the fancy chair, then just takes a seat next to him on the bed. ]

Yeah, it looked pretty bad.

[ She'd say something more comforting, she'd like to, but that would take a straight lie. In this context, at least, that's not her style. She huffs a sigh and settles back onto her palms. ]

I'm sorry that happened, Evan. That was fucking bullshit. But you took it like a champ, so there's that.

[Evan, whose pride is not so injured by the event now that the final lingering physical signs have been dealt with, actually laughs at that.]

What, by rolling around on the ground and screaming? Or by repeatedly almost passing out while getting carried around? [He shakes his head.] I took it like anyone who doesn't especially want to lose an eye would take it.

And I mean. Important lesson learned. I think next time I come across a pint-sized little ball of malice I'm not going to play catch with it.

[ She snorts, and aims a (gentle) shove at his shoulder. ]

Fuck off, I'm trying to compliment you. You did fine.

[ Not that she'll argue with that lesson learned. It's sometimes easy to forget not everyone is playing on the same level she is these days. ]

Anyway... [ She shifts to be a little more comfortable and pulls up her best lazy smile. ] I'm pretty sure I definitely won that round. Do I get my prize, or what?

[It is not lost on Evan then that they're sitting on his bed. Does he regret getting rid of the extra chairs he'd had in this room for when Laedo had come to heal him? He thinks not... but then, at the same time, he doesn't especially know what to make of any of this. There's a straightness to his spine that suggests as much, but his grin hasn't failed.]

What, I don't get a point bonus for pain and suffering? Or did you simply earn a larger bonus for getting to play rescuer?

[Even as he playfully equivocates, he has to admit to himself that it's not a bad scene for a kiss. The firelight is nice, and even if having been at his worst in front of her had changed his mild twitterpait to something more like camaraderie, Ramir is no less intriguing than she's ever been.]

Hell no, that point's definitely mine for playing hero. Why else do you think I'd bother?

[ She trusts him to know that for bullshit. He's a friend, of course he'd get saving. She shifts to face him more directly, and... briefly considers Sigma. She did promise she'd stick to just him, but... this is just a kiss, so she figures it's fine. She's willing to assume he'd agree with her if she asked, and opts to skip that step. ]

Gotta collect my debts, or no one's gonna take betting with me seriously. [ Her smile eases a little, less teasing. ] If you're still game.

[He scoffs, a little more theatric the closer he gets to having to pony up.] What, are you implying I'd renege on my debts simply because I question the scoring methods? Hardly. Ye of little faith.

[He's turned towards her, too, pulled into the moment implacably. For all that he's long since come to the conclusion that Ramir's flirting doesn't really mean anything, this... this feels a hair more serious than he was expecting. His heart is pattering with uncertainty. Perhaps the firelight was a mistake.

There's a moment where he fails to entirely conceal that uncertainty behind the sassy facade he's been putting up. He's kissed a grand total of two people in his life, and only one of those people enough times to get any good at it. Is he going to make an ass of himself?]

I'm game. [He's a little round-eyed, his tone less teasing too. Screwing his courage to the sticking point -- as the aphorism goes -- he leans in, uncertain if he'll be meeting her halfway or doing all the initiating himself.]

[ She fully intends to go for it, she's even planning her angle of attack as she leans in (waiting for him to initiate is clearly not in the cards). It'll be a good kiss, she's determined, nothing half-assed — just not too lingering or involved. That seems fair. No one could argue with that, it's purely for fun and that's fun. That's her line of thought as she tilts her head and lifts a hand to rest on either side of Evan's jaw, thumbs lightly against his cheeks.

It's only at the very last second that a flash of the wounded look Sigma can get going so well flashes suddenly through her mind, and the stab of guilt is too much even for Ramir. For possibly the first time in her life she chickens out, and she twists to miss his lips entirely and plant a kiss on his cheek.

There really is a first time for everything, apparently. ]

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