ORIGIN - exoskeletal junction at the railroad

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we're talking steel. we're talking stone. oh, yeah. you've got it together, so all you've gotta do is keep it together, we clear? crystal. en garde, now ...

damask's question was more like a challenge — put her back on the offensive, where it was safe. probably wouldn't last, but this at least gave her a respite; she was asking for an answer in some level of depth, and the laws of conversational honor obliged the cat to produce one. kaimana followed that code to a fault, as was becoming increasingly clear. first, another gesture of sugary-sweet gratitude for kindness that she really wasn't sure she'd actually exhibited, (kind?, you?,) but yes, fine, she could swallow one more. okay, moving on, not another word about her —

"... d — miiih ... miss, mister? i apologize, i would hate to assume ..."

... wh — ? she inhaled through her nose, a long draw that brought her lungs right up to their prison bars. nobody had ever ... asked her that. anything like that. and yet, here was kaimana. asking. did she put everyone she met to that question? of course she does. think you're so special? no. okay, but then why was she acting like this, trailing back and forth, apologizing, looking like she genuinely wasn't — hey. how many times have we got to go over this? it's not about you. weird, awkward cat; weird, awkward question. checks out. just say the words: no, thanks, i'm a loser and losers don't get honorifics. go on. say it, loser. but —

... what does she think when she thinks about me? ...

stop, stop, stop. wrong question. more important one is, what does she see when she looks at you? and what she sees is a pretty little bird with a tiny little voice. you. she sees you.

drop, drop, drop went her chest with that breath. "... just damask, please." it came out low, a certain loaded hush to it, dwindling away at the end. read into that, all the way into the fine print: but what you're guessing, it's probably correct. or: yeah, you're good. go ahead. assume it.

remember the smile? real small, thin, taut, sort of like she was? couldn't seem to stay dead? that little ghost was back with a vengeance. man, what a thing to say to somebody. but it was almost endearing, right? meant kaimana was ... keeping her in mind; trying to be thoughtful, considerate, show an old-fashioned form of respect. anyone would've felt a little startled at first, a little uncomfortable, but also a little ... pleasantly surprised. touched. sort of excited? yes. anyone would've. maybe she could afford to lean into that feeling — just so long as kaimana didn't go after her again ... and for once, she actually didn't.

instead, she reflected, recollected — exactly the response damask had been hoping for. she listened along, ears forward, nodding or cocking her head at appropriate intervals. and every time that smile began to fall again, something new came along to pick it back up, although it wasn't setting any records. "well, you would be ... all right, i won't lie, you are certainly correct." oh? i am? "where i grew up was ... rather lonely. at times." oh? must've been ... real tough, for her. also, that explains some things. "... enrichment activity ..." oh? that's — that's a legit term? i didn't make it up? "maybe you, explorer that you were, might've found it back then as well." ... okay, now that ... that was sweet. a twitch of humor plucked at one side of her mouth. heh.

there was a lull, then. damask waited without so much as an attempt to interrupt, regarding her company evenly and steadily. kaimana fumbled her way to the finish line — (my expertise? time? talent? please ...) and fell silent at last. a brief allowance to make sure she was all set, and then ...

"bones," the bird of prey repeated, shifting her weight from one side to the other and back. her eyes narrowed in a fleeting hint of a grimace. this was how it worked. tension hurt the worst when it began to let up. "all right, but i have to tell you, i like them better while they're still operational. if i could just follow up with you about the game, first ... ?"

all at once, she ducked away and strode to the left, apparently engaged in a violent staredown with the floor — laced her wings, too, forming a swallow-tailed heart-shape at her back. damask was, in that moment, the very picture of the restless artist. "your commission — i have some ideas i'd like to run by you, three of them. let me know which one sounds the most interesting, yeah? we can make it quick, for your sake." on that word quick, she spun on one foot and paced the other way. the pitch that followed was efficient, fast-talking, each proposal rattled off with dexterity and economy. "option number one would be a sort of puzzle. different pieces, different ways to put them together. the natural choice, i'd expect, given your predilections — but i thought you might appreciate hearing the others." spin and pace, static fizzling under her skin. "next option: something you and yours would play together. two players, number two, get it? it'd be competitive, put their abilities to the test against yours or any others'. make a winner out of them, if you feel so inclined." spin and pace. a number of individuals would've had a difficult time keeping up at this point. "finally, option number three. this would be relatively simple. not so much about skill and strategy, no inherent rules or objectives — just a way for them to apply their imagination. they could make it what they wanted it to be." on this turn, she threw a sidelong glance at the cat, a touch of favoritism in the look. that idea probably wouldn't finish first, but ... she was fond of it, nonetheless. "thoughts? i'm going to need some specs from you, as well: where we can meet, a rough sense of scale, a deadline if you've got one. you know, logistics." she stopped herself (with effort) and faced kaimana. breathless, all of a sudden.

"ah — no need to tell me now, of course. if you'd rather, about bones ..." beat. "but yes, i'll take the commission. and you can't pay me."

Funny that Damask's wishes to turn these tides back towards Kaimana had resulted in Kaimana asking one of the most specifically person-focused questions she could have asked. The question of identity. It was particular to each individual, and Kaimana was very curious about this individual -- that should be obvious enough unless you chose to not see it. Damask could choose to avoid seeing Kaimana's interest if they wanted, just like how Kaimana was going to avoid seeing the implications of Damask's answer. She would make, perhaps, an unexpected move across this chess board: choosing to take it at face value instead of reading deeper. "Damask it is," Kaimana said, with a slight dip of her head -- a gesture of respect to make up for the lack of ability to use honorifics. Would Damask be shocked by the play? Or would it bring this conversation back to normal dimensions?

That, of course, was not the only goal of Kaimana taking Damask's preference at face value. Why would she assume? You don't assume someone's favorite flavor of fish. You don't assume someone's thoughts or emotions. You don't assume someone's gender. Doesn't matter how disreputable you think they are-- or, how disreputable they think of themself.

They moved on. Damask allowed, generously, for Kaimana to go off on a bit of a tangent trying to answer but one question. Kaimana might have deflated if she hadn't caught it, creeping across their face after her miniscule speculation-joke hybrid. That little smile.

The feeling of making someone smile... like giving someone a colorful balloon... a gust of air, a light breeze of joy that is shared. Colors, like balloons, fly and spread. Color Kaimana goofy and surprised, an effervescent candy cane of funky green and bright yellow. Bubbles in the brain. Floating. It was a good feeling, the feeling of making someone smile.

She could ride on that for a while, certainly for her next request.

The bones bones bones (bones) were put off in favor of business. Yes, made perfect sense, perfect sense. And again, any attempt at a short, slipped-in reply was cut off by the jagged edge of Damask's willingness to push forward -- this time, however, in a more creative direction. Kaimana was willing to go there too.

Kaimana got the pleasure of watching as Damask went on, at length. There was something strangely magnetic about watching a creator in a passionate fervor. It was not aggressive -- not in the traditional sense, anyway -- but ruthless, unabashed, unrestrained nonetheless. The closest thing to an act of violence the mind could make: something new. Perhaps that was due to the inherent chaos involved in the making of something. Damask created with such astounding speed, with such magnanimous force -- the impact, as a result, was massive. Kaimana was dead set on matching each pragmatic stride, for that is what 'business' is, but quietly, in private, she was stunned by all that resonant energy.

It was good, then, that Kaimana had finally found a fuel with which to feed this fidgety robot. Something to stir the flame in its lungs, to keep it breathing. Did it help? She couldn't know. But it didn't appear to hurt, and that was absolutely fantastic. It followed along with this ulterior trade between the two -- something fun for Kaimana in return for, perhaps, if Kaimana was careful about where she stepped and how, something fun, or at the very least-- no, no! We have to strive for the best when it comes to what we give and what we get, don't we? Something fun for Damask as well.

The jaguar considered the options, weighed and appraised each one on a mental scale. It wasn't just for her, but for another as well. One she could not predict. But, with Damask's help, one she could now speculate at least a little bit about.

The first option, a puzzle game. The second, a two-player competition (which, by the way, she did get it and it did make her giggle). The third and final, a method of indulging in creativity. Oh, these all sounded wonderful... was there a way to commission all three? Haha, as if Kaimana would ask for such a thing! She obviously wouldn't be able to afford that, nor did she want to put Damask through all that frustration. Was creation not an aggravating thing, at times? It was best to commission one thing to focus on, one thing to care for at a time.

At last, Damask had allowed some space to speak. 'Thoughts?' Plenty.

"My first and foremost thought is that your creative skill is impressive and your wit is dangerously quick. I might be a little dazed, in fact," Kaimana laughed. Damask was so insistent on speed. "My second thought is that whichever I choose to commission, I would appreciate far more if you could take your time on. As much time as you need. It does not have to finished by the time the stone hatches -- I cannot even tell when that will be. So no need to rush, for my sake and for yours." Was that a direct mirroring of Damask's earlier disclaimer about "making it quick"? ...Yes. "And my third thought -- I guess we are both working in threes -- is that I will probably chew on this decision for a little. Maybe bones will help us both formulate further thoughts..."

'Alright now, specs?' You got it.

"I live in the same cave where I grew up, but I can probably travel at almost any time." Almost. Leaving a gap of space in the schedule in which a hatching might fit. Before or after then would work. "If you would rather not try to find my home then we can easily meet somewhere in the middle, or somewhere closer to here. We could even meet right back at this spot. My bone structure here, if it remains standing, could be a landmark for a meeting place. Although, perhaps exploring would be enjoyable for you. If that is the case, then you might like visiting my home cave." It was up to Damask in that regard. "A rough sense of scale... I'm not sure if I can give you that right now. I am not entirely sure how big the child will be when it hatches... or which game I would like to present it with, really. They all sound so delightful." Cue another pause, for breath, drama, maybe a little cheeky wink-- "And, as for a deadline: like I said before, I would rather you have one as generous as I can provide. You have hatchlings among your own family that you obviously provide for," DON'T BRING BACK THE TWIG BALL AGAIN, "and you deserve to be able to focus on them as well. So, let's say the deliver can be made within the next... cycle. I suppose." Kaimana wasn't sure how long making a game took. She had never made one herself. She also didn't know how demanding the process of caring for children could be, because, again, she had never had one herself.

And then, Damask had said no payment! 'NO!'

She put on a fake pout. "The word 'commission' entails payment! Without the payment, it could be equated to charity! Or a favor! And you do not owe me a favor." Kaimana sighed, letting the pretend grudge drop. "Ah, well, I won't push any further if you simply won't allow it." 'I'll just find a SECRET way to repay you.' A smile returned to her face with ease. Ah, thoughts. You can hide so many wonderful schemes in them.

"Now," If Kaimana had had hands, here is where she would've clasped them together, "if all of this sounds fine by you, then I would like to ask about your knowledge of bones. How did you come across, well, any of it? Knowing that vertebrae separate over time? Does your magic contribute to what you know?" Maybe now Damask could understand what Kaimana's previous uncontainable excitement from before was about. There were many more questions to follow. How many would be let out?

@Damask (hey ;3)

@Kaimana ;]

again with that recess between the end of one voice and the start of another, and damask, she just wanted to be pacing again. her breath came in shallow puffs, stifled and rationed into discreet rapidity. one instant, her talons were drumming, and the next, they weren't, static briefly back to crackling as much in her skull as it was in her nerves. what's up with you, damask? are you wired or what? maybe a little. presenting symptoms: elevated heart rate, inexplicable urge to fidget, humming sensations of electricity — yeah, textbook. you know what? okay. have fun, kid. cling to it. see what happens. and the noise was gone. everywhere, chills.

she wasn't about to interrogate that feeling.

for the third time in a row, kaimana led with a compliment, and damask had to take it. her total non-responses to those were likely drawing attention by now, but anything she could've said would've either felt or sounded worse than nothing. "dangerously quick," "a little dazed" — read: you're talking too fast, and blink: oh. blink: i'm sorry. "no need to rush, for my sake and for yours." that choice of words was definitely deliberate. "i appreciate it." next, the matter of specs and logistics — a meeting place, dimensions — both of which she had a number of thoughts on, but hold up, was that a wink? she squinted: what are you ... ?, then jerked her muzzle slightly to the side, more discomfited than offended: don't do that.

the deadline was reasonable, though, which left one last thing.

"the word commission entails payment!" damask reset her head and lifted her chin: yeah, so what? it was kaimana's word, not hers — and maybe she'd fallen into a setup by mirroring it, but what other choice did she have? the other two proposals didn't fit, she agreed — charity made her out like some paragon of altruism, (which she distinctly wasn't,) and favor was just commission with arrears. no, frankly? gift was the closest word to what she meant. however, it was absolutely not the one she was going to use.

kaimana overacted, of course, played at surrender as if it'd been no big deal all along — but she told me i should be charging her. for advice. she takes this seriously. and that smile. that smile. just look at it. tap, tap, tap, her claws went, like a shorting circuit. spark, spark, spark. "i won't push any further if you simply won't allow it," kaimana was saying, and that promise had to apply to more than just business, which made its honesty all the more critical and all the more questionable. the accipiter worked her jaw, felt a trace of a glare edging into her eyes. this did not translate directly into language, but it did translate into emotion. very clearly so. she wanted to trust this slippery cat, wasn't sure if she could. and yet — ("damask it is," she'd said, "damask it is," and) maybe trust was worth a try. the kind of trust that went both ways, that meant being real.

she waited for her company to finish, punctuating each inquiry with an affirmative dip of her chin. finally, quiet, and she nodded quicker as she parted her lips: let's back up just a sec, and we'll get there in a minute.

"yes. take your time deciding, and we'll straighten out the rest when you're ready." her gaze lingered on the curve in kaimana's mouth, the ease in her features, the sheer, unnerving calm of her. quicksilver eyes cut away with a shutter on-and-off, shadowy beneath furrowed brows, before switching back in a split-second's time. spark, spark, spark. a breath in, and then ... "look." swallow. "you're only giving in on the subject because you're set on paying me anyway. i know it, you know it, and please, kaimana — don't. this is not a transaction. i just want to do a good thing." ... oh, SHIT. "i didn't say that."

all of the above, she delivered without so much as a beat in between, whiplash kicking back and forth in her voice — and she was recoiling away from her own stupid slip, heart seizing like a fist in her chest, visibly wilting a little, more steamrolling herself than anybody else when she spun the wheel and said, "but hey, i've got to break it to you, i'm not certain i know as much as you think." again, that compulsion to pace. spark, spark, spark. "bones mean a lot in my family. sacred isn't the right word, but it's the first one that comes to mind. one of them, she has a whole pit, says they tell the future. growing up in this place, in that environment — well, you pick up a thing or two." question number one, done. question number two, about the vertebrae ... wait, how do i — familiar lines of white on black crisscrossed into a macabre mosaic over her memory, the form broken and crumpled with time and decay, draped in the shadows where it lay in its cairn. citation: vita, aza'zel, circa cycle sixteen. her usual source. all right. take it slow. handle with care. "there is a particular skeleton that is important to them. it is four years old, and — i've seen it, so i can speak to it — the spine has completely fallen apart. most of the bones in this room are much older, so an intact column like that one over there — it's unusual. and sort of concerning."

damask stopped for a second, clearing her throat. a definite ... scratch was beginning to develop, there. static cling. "and magic?" now we're talking. a hint of enthusiasm sidled into her voice, falling back into its rat-a-tat rhythm. magic was where she lived. "that spell i mentioned — it taps into blood, and blood shows you everything: not just the skeletal system, but also the soft tissue that won't survive postmortem. i wasn't born with that school of magic, and i picked it up when i was very small. i'm sure anyone could."

a flutter of air struck another kind of spark, and the spell flowered eagerly into being. heartbeats floated and pressed into her senses, but she constricted the reach into short-range detail, focusing on the figure in front of her. gold and black faded into pulsing crimson, and degree by degree, the color sharpened and divided into a cat-shaped web of strings and threads. they spooled out in a neverending figure-eight, glowing and dimming in perfect time with the pump at the center. that little ball of muscle. pumping. pumping.

"i'm looking now," damask said, stepping back. "if it matters." she lifted her gaze from the heart to the eyes, manifest in hairline vessels that bunched and branched like underground roots. wait. wait. oh, no. kaimana softened back into a blurry red silhouette, expression faintly visible over the blood underneath. what is — why did it take me so long to — okay, say something else, say something else — "you said you don't know much about it, magic?"

As Kaimana went about talking and talking and talking, she also tried to keep tabs on body language, because of course she did! What was interaction if not just a very small-scale, convoluted exercise in multitasking? Kaimana noticed the tapping, the... antsy-ness. She remembered the fervor and the passion Damask had exhibited when permitted to pace... did they want to walk? Perhaps they wanted to leave, actually, which Kaimana would be fine with (if not a little disappointed about, due to being left with so many mysteries and an unfinished deal). Maybe it would be good to walk around, actually... motion rattled the mind into acting alongside it. Kaimana would save the suggestion in her head, then... for the right moment. Which wasn't now. "I appreciate it." The jaguar would nod. And the wink didn't seem to go over well. Kaimana would refrain the next time then!

The second response Kaimana was met with was a most interesting one: a direct confrontation about something. Huh. It almost felt jarring, to see the one who had put up the metaphysical, interdimensional fourth wall around this conversation be the same one who would reach out first to tap it, question it head on. If Damask was willing to do that in this situation, why not tear down the wall entirely...? Silly question, actually -- it wasn't nearly as hard to find out what was happening as it was to find out why. The what: Damask had forged a suit of armor for themself, a layer of protection between them and the world. Mayfal had done that, many others probably did too. Damask, in particular, seemed experienced and rather clever about maneuvering in it. Rarely a track went uncovered, scarcely a bare surface left exposed... The why was the part that Kaimana had resolved was truly none of her business. She was going to have to keep reminding herself it that was not her business.

Then, suddenly:"I just want to do a good thing." Oh-- "I didn't say that." Ah. 'Alright, Damask. Let the record show that you did not, in fact, reveal any form of chink in your armor.' The perfect time to show exactly how much effort the jaguar was going to put in to make sure she would not get nosy. 'I will not engage. I promise.' For the sake of securing social cues, Kaimana wiped any sign of a smile off her mouth, wishing to be careful with where she placed her amusement. All smiles would be relegated only to the domain of her eyes in this moment -- (can't speak for other moments though) -- and Kaimana would nod without another word on the subject. 'As you wish.'

It would linger in her mind, however. How could it not? Under wraps, under wraps, try not to think about it, but alas, given the opportunity Kaimana knew she would. Wanting to do something good... was that really synonymous with stunting the growth of a cycle(?), and also that was just very sweet if not a little misguided(!), and-- oh, Kaimana, come on! Save it for later! Alright, alright. The jaguar would then force her expression to cease shifting (towards one of disbelief) at Damask's display of self-doubt. Kaimana held no expectations, because expectations often ended up being an insult to one party or the other, or both. She was just here for the ride. Still, her mind's first instinct was to combat the negativity. She would not be acting on this instinct, of course, to avoid being intrusive yet again. Instead, she would distract herself with the magnanimous gift of the most interesting details about bones... and Damask's family.

They sounded incredible. The one with a whole pit of bones? Who could see the future using them? And seeing them as sacred... or, well, something like that. Kaimana... could relate, honestly. Kaimana saw bones as beautiful and intriguing, but there was certainly more to them than just the appearance. They meant something, they indicated an entire lifetime -- possibly more than one! They were, in a sense, a way to get to know somebody... somebody who wasn't around anymore. Kaimana's eyes did the thing where they light up again, like a sparkling pool, an unknown sun reflecting off the ocean blue. The particular skeleton... who could that have been? Kaimana wasn't about to ask, that information seemed to deserve privacy. Perhaps even secrecy, if Damask was not willing to reveal the identity at first description.

Then there was magic, which seemed to bring the avian a little more enthusiasm. Aha! This magic was certainly unlike anything Kaimana had heard before. Then again, Kaimana hadn't heard of much in the magic department. The idea of seeing the blood, which showed the rest in that negative space... oh it was enticing. To know someone's structure, to see it function even as they were living and breathing... Kaimana was a little jealous. Damask had access to such a personal way of learning things about others. Maybe Kaimana could learn it too, like they had, but... eh. 'Twas a doubtful thing, in her mind. She would just have to learn the hard way: time and talk, observing the body from the outside.

And then, Damask was looking at her. "If it matters." What! Of course it does! Kaimana would avoid words and just smile, big and wide, wondering if that was more frightening to see through the eyes of an x-ray. Whether or not it was, she wouldn't be deterred. She was happy to let Damask see her in such away. Kaimana was an open book (haha). Nothing to hide, not even in her fundamental being. At her core was just... love, pretty much. If Damask could see that somehow, or understand that, with any form of magic, Kaimana would want them to. Love is like butter: meant for spreading around.

At last, Damask's whirlwind of fact and fury delayed its onslaught -- the eye in the storm, a purposefully created niche in which Kaimana could stand on her soap box and speak her part. To be fair, it was probably for the best she be regulated in this way. Who knew how long she could go, given the vast ocean of thought to freely (and audibly) sail. There were questions to answer: "No, I'm afraid not." Kaimana's giant x-ray grin would drop to something more neutral. Just these somber moments spent conversing with-- or, in Kaimana's case, more so conversing at this avian had tamed the tides of her smiles and grins and giggles. They had softened, curled -- rounded the edges with the entropy of beating silence and tapping claws and unsaid whispers wafting in the air.

"I only ever really took interest in learning more about magic when I met this funny little pup. So young, and they had come to the shore along the room I dwell in. They found me and asked for a swimming lesson because apparently water magic can be dangerous in that way! Cause a flood that one would have to swim out of. I had no idea what 'water magic' even was." That there was the end of neutrality; a fond giggle creeped up at the memory-- but, again, it was softer and rounder than previous giggles, like little bits of sea glass stumbling out of her throat. And, side note, a lesson taken from Mayfal: do not be liberal with the names of others. If Damask and Comet ever met, Comet could be the one to introduce themself.

"I know nothing at all of these schools of magic... probably because you don't need magic to swim and fish and get through a storm. I would be interested to learn, though." In order to keep her eyes from seeking out Damask's (what she would be prone to do when talking to, say, Glaive, for example), Kaimana's gaze darted to somewhere beside her paws, and then to somewhere beyond Damask's head. "You seem to have grown up in such an interesting environment. Learning about bones, the future, and magic... the very concepts are as amazing as they are unknown to me." Another tamed giggle. "Perhaps, if you would like, we can continue this marvelous lesson on a walk?" Kaimana considered using the word 'marvelous', and also whether or not she should have given a reason for why she wanted to walk. 'Marvelous is accurate, I am having a wonderful time learning these things, but... is it too much? And an alibi, so Damask doesn't suspect my noticing-- is that even worth it? Maybe I'm thinking too much.' Yeah, maybe. You've mirrored your "opponent", Kaimana. To some extent. 'Ah. Then I'll just leave it as it is, before I end up putting Damask's reflection out of a job.' "I promise I will let you go once I've got an idea for which game I would like to order-- oh, and, before I forget, I do want to know, because it does matter to me... ah, how do I articulate this? Sorry. What did... you see? What did I look like? When you were looking." Um. "At me, with magic."

So there it was, another offer, dangling in the air. Packaged, wrapped, and tied with a bow. A tag on the side that reads "From: Kaimana, To: Damask Vita". Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do! And maybe the accompanying question was yet another awkward one that didn't make much sense to ask. But Kaimana... could afford to make mistakes. She hoped.

@Damask (mother of DUCK this is so HORRENDOUSLY LONG)

@Kaimana ! so sorry for the wait, oh my gracious ... please enjoy this late-night snack
(little baby bit of powerplay with permission re: assuming kaimana follows along)

one mistake was all it took. kaimana's bright, pearly whites came back out to play, and with all the speed of instinct and impulse, the underlying vessels flared once more into brilliant detail. expressionless detail. all those teeth? merely another part of the sanguine skull in all its impassivity. there were still the arteries along the lips, of course, drawn eerily far apart; but even then, the abstract anatomy was somehow less unnerving than its surface-level result — if only because of what the latter signified. read: yes, that note about the spell was a real thing that had really just come out of damask's mouth, and yes, kaimana had indeed heard it. i'm looking now? as in, at you? into you? who says something like that? and why do the looking to begin with? weird as all get-out. and yet ... she's kind of into it, isn't she. given the grin.

but then, that smile relaxed, rounding and softening in synch with the pulse underneath as the spell followed suit. kaimana looked relatively ... tame, now? downright domestic, even. hmm. what followed was a quaint sort of anecdote about a quote-unquote funny little pup who'd asked for a lesson. the accipiter tilted her head back and forth in classical avian fashion, claws drumming quietly at irregular intervals. all this about water, swimming, fishing ... kaimana might've been a stranger to magic, but she clearly wasn't lacking in expertise elsewhere. tufted ears flickered at the sound of a glassy giggle, distinctly subdued after all its raucous predecessors; kaimana's eyes were moving in ellipses, seeking out anything but damask's. man, she's really trying. and she was willing to learn? okay, don't jump, one enormously time-consuming commitment is enough for tonight —

and right around there, the spotlight swung inevitably back around to damask, exactly as she was starting to enjoy the dimmer end of the stage. she shifted just a little, side to side, side to side — "perhaps, if you would like, we can continue this marvelous lesson on a walk?" don't have to ask me twice! she went stock-still, uncertainty giving way to a round-eyed hint of eagerness. internal electricity fizzled at the ready. a glimmer of a thought; a quick glance over her shoulder; and a final push of intention into the spell, searching, searching, finding. perfect. she let go of her stone and refocused on kaimana. nod, nod — wait. wait a second. where did that come from, all of a sudden? "i promise i will let you go once i've got an idea ..." that's where. too many tells; she made me, she arrived at a logical conclusion, and now she's trying for tact. aagh — what was up with her? she was lightning in a bottle, and that could've been workable, except that for some reason, the bottle wasn't opaque enough. there — another compulsion to fidget — but this time, she quelled it, pressing her talons into the stone. oh, absolutely, she wanted to move, but she didn't want to leave, did she? do i? no. no. she didn't. i don't.

"oh, and, before i forget, i do want to know, because it does matter to me ... ah, how do i articulate this? sorry. what did ... you see? what did i look like? when you were looking. at me, with magic."

again: oh, no. the bird of prey averted her eyes and puffed out a breath. she knows exactly how awkward that question sounds, and she asks it anyway? come on. this was mostly her own fault, which — didn't help. but for all that her mistake made her want to cringe, for all that she wanted to take it back, it wasn't the other one, the first one. that mistake could've been fatal, but instead of exploiting it, the cat had sobered up, dipped her head, and let it slide as requested, above and beyond all expectations. the question she had opted for was uncomfortable, sure, and sort of a challenge ... but since when do i back down from one of those, hey?

"i know just the place to go," damask said — and against all odds, something sincere tugged at her lip, subtle, asymmetrical. in a past life, it might've been a smirk. a gentleman's gallantry ran smoothly, pleasantly on her tongue. "right this way. it's not far." she followed through on her earlier glance and angled off to the south, gaze lingering on kaimana's. the tip of a tooth flashed in the half-light, and one of her sails unfurled with a flourish: shall we? she broke away, discreetly passing over the wicker ball on its shelf, energy sparking up and down her legs. walking as she was, she might as well've been pacing in a straight line, restless and efficient, posture leveled into a more natural slope with her wings once again swallow-tailed over her back. silver eyes coasted along the floor just ahead of her, but her mind was on the spotted figure in her periphery — acutely aware of the distance between them, maintaining it in fractional tweaks of her speed and her stride.

"i saw — ..." okay, let's try that again. "you looked like — ..." again, again. it's fine. how's about ... "all right, picture a thousand little rivers in the shape of a body." oh, yeah, that's the ticket. artful use of the indefinite article; a water metaphor, because she likes water; and nothing about her body specifically, because how would that make me feel? it'd make me squirm in my skin, is what it'd do. no, we're keeping it cool, clinical, removed. i am a professional. "these are blood vessels, running through the head and the limbs, irrigating every organ, every muscle, and — your favorite, hm? — every bone, then finally flowing back to the source. it's an endless circuit, around and around, always in motion." a professional, damn it! cough and cough. not a poet. gotta sound a little less enamored. "now, you don't just see it. you hear it too, almost feel it, the way you feel your own heart beating in your chest." i am no longer a professional. "every living thing is a work of art in more than one medium."

(you hearing yourself, kid? what's wrong with you? are you sick? no, really, maybe you should see somebody, sounds like you've got a real bad case of bleeding heart disease on top of the whole static syndrome, and you have a specialist on call, y'know —) no, no, i'm gonna walk it back, see? i can do it by myself, see? watch, watch, watch. i've got this.

"hey, magic isn't all that different from any other skill. just takes practice — same as swimming, i imagine." (not that you'd know. you're better at drowning, right?) please. "you've got the smarts; you've got the drive. put the time into it, and you could learn a little number like that, easy." (think you're so cool, you pretentious, presumptuous wannabe?) please! "in the event that you wanted to, i mean."

now her throat was seriously starting to hurt. she coughed again, harder this time, shivering ever-so-slightly through her feathers. her voice didn't come out ... quieter, exactly, but it did come out lower, crackling faintly on a couple of syllables that chafed on the way up. "did i mention it isn't far?" (yeah. you did.) "i need you to keep it down for me, okay?" (certainly not a problem on your end. you don't even have to change the volume. probably couldn't make enough noise if you tried.) "and stay a few steps behind me, pl-please." (n-n-n-nice going, you —) ... don't, all right? not now? not yet?

The knotwork of this single interaction only twisted and twisted. Kaimana told a tale, made an offer, took a risk. Damask, to Kaimana's faintest hint of surprise, accepted it all. The eagerness was caught, another fish in her net. Slowly... was it just a mirage, or were these knots truly unfurling? Loosening up. That's what she wanted. And, as a reminder: it wasn't to take advantage of some random stranger in a bone room. It was more like... a convoluted way of tapping someone's shoulder when it seemed tense. All the wobbling, fretting, and dashing around felt like a fencing duel -- the reason why wasn't Kaimana's business, but a small tap of kindness... that very well could be.

Now, with that refresher, I present to you the play.

So Damask Vita knew just the place to go. The way their demeanor was shifting made it feel like they should have been born walking, that was their natural state of being. Perhaps Kaimana was guilty of some sort of crime for forcing them to ever stand in one place! They knew "just the place to go", which only made Kaimana seem (and feel) all the more culpable. She considered making the order, leaving soon, leaving it all for another time. At the same time, she felt a sudden... fanciful air. How to describe it? Like she was being lead to a ballroom dance rather than yet another intellectual duel. It was hopeful, and a little flattering, and most definitely the kind of fantastical mirage that pops up once and fades away immediately afterwards... without ever really leaving for good.

They walked.

Thankfully Damask was willing to overlook the awkwardness of Kaimana's inquiry. She couldn't have helped it, she hadn't even wanted to try! Surely Damask knew of academic curiosity, of personal curiosity... based on the way they were describing the sight, they seemed to. In fact, that description... hearing it was less like falling down a well and more like winding down a multicolored spiral. Oh yes, they had caught Kaimana's attention with various aquatic references. This may seem intense, but Kaimana knew and loved that world like it was the fabric of her own soul, so to tether that to this more foreign world was a brilliant move indeed. Kaimana could see it in her mind's eye now, those streams of blood that pulsated throughout her whole body. It almost felt like something personal, which she might have gotten defensive about had she not been something of an open book. Then, what had started as a biology lesson transitioned back into that pacing, roving artist. The energy of Damask's words resounded with the leopard, their appreciation becoming her appreciation. It made her marvel just a little more at both subject and teacher. (How can you love something so much?) It seemed now Damask more than understood.

How fortunate.

Kaimana would nod to Damask's statement-turned-poetry. She wished she could agree to it aloud. Maybe eventually she would be able to.

Meanwhile: there was a chance that Kaimana potential to practice such a magic, so Kaimana could also see those rivers of blood in a realm beyond her mind alone. 'That would be delightful,' she thought, 'almost as delightful as hearing another person talk about it.' However, there was a seed of doubt. Kaimana might need to learn from patient masters. You see, magic was not quite like swimming lessons. Many animals had a base instinct to move in water, and the lessons honed that skill. Magic did not have the same ancient roots or necessity... learning any unnatural part of it, for Kaimana, may turn out to be more like learning to fly. Still, there was the chance, the hope Damask had wished to instill. Enough to crave acknowledgement, and thus it provoked Kaimana to nearly abandon her quiet, pensive listening and open her mouth to talk:

"Perhaps--did I mention it isn't far?"

Intercepted! Ah, well. There was a ripple of concern from the leopard as Damask coughed harshly. Kaimana would avoid acknowledging the cough verbally and take the question as rhetorical, for Damask's sake. She would nod to the requests and fall behind. Cats had a thing for keeping quiet and on track.

@Damask

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