4/4/99

You say "Van'chela? I find myself with a bit of time, and I recall that I said I would comm you when that occurred." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "*sounding quite chipper* Ahh, time, an illusion, and lunchtime doubly so. Still, to find it free, well, we can't let that pass by can we? Especially not since your favorite weather seems to be abounding. Shall we hie off into the wild blue?" in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Ah, is it raining?" Corian sounds decidedly pleased at that. "Van'chela, you -do- own some form of wet-weather gear, yes? I only like the rain as much as I do because I have the option of remaining dry." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "I've got a jacket and a hat on, which did me well enough for earlier. I used to have a long oilskin jacket, but it died a pretty gruesome death and I've not had the chance to replace it. Still, it's not pouring, jacket and hat oughta well do me for." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Excellent, excellent. Is there a particular location where we should meet?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "I can meetcha at your place? Or perhaps in the Atrium? Whatever's best for you." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Unless you are already on the fourth floor, it seems somewhat silly for you to come all the way up here. As the atrium is on the way out, that sounds preferable." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Hey, not that I mind any, takin' the elevator's fun, the view's lovely. But the Atrium it is then, also a lovely location as the rain's runnin' off the roof." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "*quiet chuckle* Well, then, I shall meet you there." into the communit.

[Travelspam deleted.]

Corian is wearing her coat, but it is unbuttoned and the hood rests against its back, rather than over her head. "Good afternoon, van'chela," she says pleasantly, spotting Tarrant and crossing gracefully to him. "I hope this afternoon finds you well."

Tarrant is half leaning against a low wall around part of the garden. Seeing you he brightens, straightening up and stepping in your direction with a broad grin. "It does, it does, and you?" He notes the outfit with an appreciative nod, "That green suits you."

Corian inclines her head. "Quite well, yes," she replies to the question, with a smile. Gaze dropping briefly to her clothing, she says, still quite cheerful, "Thank you. It is comfortable, and a bit more practical than the skirts."

Tarrant nods amiably, "Especially in the weather of the day." He grins, with perhaps a touch of rue, "Although you'd think by now I'd be wary of walking in the rain with you, I find this not to be the case." He gestures towards the arched exit, "Shall we?"

Corian pauses a beat at your final statement, expression still pleasant but a certain hesitance to her voice. "Would you prefer that we do this another time?" she inquires. "It can most certainly wait until the weather is sunny once more."

Tarrant shakes his head quickly, "No, not at all, I'd not pass up an opportunity like this. Besides, it is only a little rain, it is not as if I will melt."

Corian peers at you quizzically for a moment, but she doesn't voice whatever question she's got, instead turning towards the proper arch. "In that case," she says, with a smile, "We should enjoy the beautiful weather while it's here."

You head towards the Massive Open Air Pavilion.

[Travelspam deleted.]

You arrive from the Massive Open Air Pavilion.

Tarrant arrives from the Massive Open Air Pavilion.

Tarrant has arrived.

Tarrant pads along afterwards, doing a great deal better with a large had to shed the rain away from his collar. Boots and puddles work well together after all, "Where to first?"

Corian considers for a moment, tipping her still-unhooded head back to peer at the sky. "I suppose it depends on how wet we would like to get. If we peruse the shops first, perhaps the rain will stop, so we can enjoy the playground in relative comfort."

Tarrant nods amiably to that, he, unlike some people, is not a duck. "This sounds like a marvelous idea to me. Bakeries are lovely in the rain especially. Warm pastry, wet weather, nice combination."

Corian echoes the amiable nod, a quick smile crossing her face. "Then it is to Johansen's, then?" Or whatever Clara called the place. "It is not far at all," she adds, with a graceful gesture in the proper direction.

Tarrant nods to the direction, looking altogether too cheerful for words, "I think consuming sugared products before going to the toy store would be a good way to go, yes." He winks, looking decidedly amused. He moves to pace you in the indicated direction, a half step back and to the left as usual.

Corian chuckles very quietly at that. "Van'chela, perhaps Jay was right about you." She sounds amused, though, and not at all serious. She starts off for the bakery, though she does alter her stride in an attempt to place herself next to you, rather than ahead of you.

Tarrant reaches to poke you gently in the shoulder, snickering, "I am -not- ten, I am at the -least- twelve or thirteen." He does not seem to notice the alteration in stride, pacing along beside you instead of behind.

Corian casts an amused look towards you. "I was very entertained," she says, as she leads the way to the bakery. "Originally, he said that you were too old for me, but -then- he decided you were ten."

Tarrant nearly chokes on a laugh, "I suppose it depends on if one considers mental age or physical age." He shakes his head, "Relatives are perhaps a trifle odd, they are required to be." Then there's a brief pause, as he suddenly realizes one does not usually discuss the relative age of peoples friends as a rule, usually only other varieties of entanglement. He covers the pause and the hint of a wistful look by indicating a direction. "That the bakery? Something certainly smells good."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian inclines her head at the comment about relatives. "And mine are, I believe, more odd than most." At your inquiry, she nods, turning to open the door and nodding at the resulting bell-jingling. "It smells much better inside," she adds, casting an anticipatory smile over her shoulder.

You walk towards the Shop.

Shop

A myriad of warm and comforting scents ranging from the tang of sourdough to the cloying sweetness of marzipan assail the senses as the clanking of the overhead bell announces the shop door opening. From the plaswood paneled floor to the glass cases of the displays, all surfaces gleam with a particular note of cleanliness. A few small round tables with comfortable ladderback chairs line the front of the shop before the plate glass window, which itself bears the marquis of 'Johensen's Bakery' painted in cheerful pale blue script, backwards from this angle. On the far wall is a ceiling high case of various cakes and pastries of many cultures, and the opposite is set with a similar case filled with types of breads. A long counter lines the back of the bakery, much of itself a case filled with cookies and pastries and terminating in a small purchase area. Cool toned flat prints of photographs from Norwegian vistas on Terra dot the walls cheerfully at places, flanking a bright colored chalkboard menu with pricing for differing hot and cold beverages.

Try 'roomhelp' for available help.

Obvious exits:

Java Quarter

You walk here from the Java Quarter.

Tarrant walks here from the Java Quarter.

Tarrant has arrived.

Tarrant follows you into the shop, having to pause just inside the entrance to simply -smell- the wonderful scents. Hello bliss. "Oh my," he murmurs, "I think I have passed on to heaven."

Corian receives a pleasant wave from the man behind the counter, and a greeting by name. Apparently, she ventures outside often enough to become known by the baker, which is not that bad a thing. She returns the greeting with a warm smile, which she extends to you. "Isn't it wonderful? I was most pleased when Clara showed me this place. I have not sampled much, as the actual consumption of sweets rarely appeals to me, but there is a particular type of cookie of which I have grown quite fond."

Tarrant nods to that, unable to keep from echoing the smile even if he had wanted to try. Stepping forward and out of the way of the door, he moves forward to investigate the possible edibility opportunities. "I must admit to being one of those evil people who likes sweet things probably more than is appropriate. My mother most assuredly does not approve."

Corian pauses a moment at the mention of mothers--or perhaps she's just investigating a particularly sugary cookie. "Your mother is not here at this particular moment," she observes. "And that is good to know. I'm glad of excuses to come here, and Ximena has asked that I not bring her children quite so many cookies. They will sit still for the stories, it seems, but are somewhat less manageable afterwards."

Tarrant has to pause, looking up from a display of caramel chip cookies. He looks somewhat startled, and altogether amused, "You gave the Sectasslet horde -cookies-? Corian, friend, you are a daring soul."

Corian shakes her head at that, with a quick laugh. "Not all of them, of course--I am not so foolish. But I tell stories to some of the younger ones, and they seem to enjoy the cookies."

Tarrant murmurs quietly with the man behind the counter, acquiring a brown paper bag of cookies, chocolate and caramel chip. Tarrant's evil and snags a bite of one as he pays the proprieter. Said cookies must still be warm from the apparent stickiness of the chocolate. He snickers as he steps back, nodding to you. "I'm sure they do, goodness these are amazing."

Corian moves closer to you, gesturing towards the sugar-laden evil that she'd been studying earlier. "Those are the ones I usually bring to the young Sectassians, though I suppose I shall have to stop." Her smile is innocent. She didn't know that the cookies would make the children that wired. Really. Turning back to the man behind the counter, she claims the sack that he'd started preparing upon her entrance--some of those cookies that Clara described, whose name she has forgotten. The cashier receives a warm smile, and a murmur about the next week.

Tarrant takes another bite of cookie, all but melting and looking rather fuzzily happy with the universe at large at this moment. "Mrrmmyumm." Ahh, he's so articulate. He nods, "Maybe fewer cookies, or fewer of the kids at a time, less evil?"

Corian nods amiably as she claims her bag, then glides a bit closer to a display of butter-cookies. "Perhaps," she allows. "I will discuss it with Ximena. She is a reasonable woman, of course."

Tarrant follows along, not much for graceful gliding, but at least his ambling movement masks the worst of his limp. "She must be, with all the kiddos. A learned response." Munch, munch...Tarrant must either be as attached to sugar as he says or hungry one as he goes through another cookie. Yurm. He looks around, "They've a little bit of everything in here."

Corian nods her agreement to that, with a quick smile. "That's part of the reason that I like it so much, yes." She tucks the sack into a coat pocket, but not before she snags a cookie and nibbles at it. "And the prices are reasonable, and the people are very nice."

Tarrant blinks several times at one of the displays passed as he heads doorwards. He's brought to a dead stop for a moment in fact, not really startled, but somehow a combination of that and pleased. He talks to the owner a moment and ends up with another small bag. The cookies are tucked in a pocket and he heads back to you, "Achitlan Fudge, I haven't had this since I was home last. Butterscotch and caramel mixed with white chocolate. S'best warmed to spread and done on angelfood squares." He just looks altogether thrilled at this discovery.

Corian's brows lift fractionally, but her expression mingling pleasure and amusement. "I am glad that you found it, then, van'chela. Perhaps you will be able to obtain angelfood squares as well. It sounds... most sweet."

Tarrant grins at that, nodding, "I'd offer you some, but unless they also serve milk here, or some such, you'd hardly appreciate it. It's...really rich. I'll have to dredge up some appropriate cake and milk however and inflict it upon you."

Corian nods, after a brief pause. "If you would like to share it, van'chela, I would be glad to try it--but, as you say, it would perhaps be better with milk." She smiles cheerfully, then inquires, "Shall we attempt the toy store, or do you perhaps need more sugar?"

Tarrant seems to give this due consideration, stowing the fudge. "I don't know. I'm not actually bouncing off walls yet, but considering recent events, this is probably as distressing as it gets." He grins impishly, "I think now would be a good time to go to the toy store indeed."

Light showers relieves some of the humidity, the air smells of moist earth.

Corian laughs quietly at that, and heads out of the shop. "Lead the way, then?" she suggests. Despite the light showers, she still doesn't put up her hood, apparently preferring the feel of the rain on her head.

Heading from the shop, Tarrant makes his way through the Java Quarter, boots plunking merrily in small puddles. Rain is growing on him. Finding the appropriate doorway tucked in amongst some small shops, he moves to open the door for you, bowing with devious politeness. Devious, because he knows the giant spiders will fall on you instead of him.

Shop

Of a good size, with quite a few twisting aisles, the toy shop, proclaimed by a sign above the door to be called 'All Wound Up', is crammed with fun and festive distractions. The storekeepers seem to believe that people are more likely to buy the toys if they're able to play with them first, as just about every toy in the store has a demonstration model. Though there are some high-tech toys, this particular store seems to specialize in the older toys, as the name may suggest. There are toys of just about every imaginable variety, though the windup toys are prominent. Particularly, there are several sets of headset walkie-talkies that may be used, and small guns that shoot little foam disks. The shopkeepers enjoy shooting customers with these disks.

Try 'roomhelp' for available help.

Obvious exits:

Java Quarter

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian returns the bow with one of her own, stepping lightly into the shop. Her quiet exclamation of delight is, naturally, aided by the loud clapping of one of the clerks, and a giant spider drops to either side of her. She starts, one hand lifted to her heart, then laughs quietly. "How fascinating," she says, though she casts an amused look over her shoulder at you. "I think, van'chela, that I have not told you of your own evil recently enough, and you found it necessary to offer me a demonstration."

Tarrant is all innocence as he enters, giving a nod of greeting to the clerks. From the vague wave in return, it would seem he's been here at least a few times before. His innocent grin is turned to you, "Me? Evil? But they're the ones with the giant hanging spiders." This is a place he likes very much indeed it would seem, as he is all brightness and pleased contentment at having entered. "This is also where I got the ox."

Corian retorts, though not without a chuckle, "They may have the giant spiders, but you knew of their presence." She doesn't look even remotely upset, though, instead inspecting another spider. As her clap sends it downwards, she beams. Uhoh. "How festive. And it has blue oxen as well? What a marvelous store."

Innocent step, casual amble, oooh look, a spaceshippy gun looking thing. Gee, Tarrant's never seen one of these before has he? Oh never. Another casual step, and then in a whir, he ducks like lightning and several foam discs are shot in your general direction with a rebel yell, "Die Imperial scum!" Tarrant's having waaaay too much fun. And too much sugar probably.

Corian, pelted by a few foam disks, is however more startled by the rebel yell. The startlement does not, however, last too long. She knows you, after all. With skill that would very likely surprise the heck out of nine-tenths of her acquaintances, she ducks behind a display of Denner-like creatures. (These, however, are not actually living.) A clerk, kinder than most, offers her a similar spaceshippy gun and a few extra cartridges, and receives a quiet thankyou. There are no rebel yells for Corian, as she's far too dignified. She does, however sneak around the display, sending more of the disks towards you. Dignified? Maybe not. Well, she's quiet, at least, but her expression is one of utter delight.

Tarrant and dignity are words that are a great deal less than synonymous. He does a flamboyant commando roll to get behind a display of stuffed bears. Ka-ching, ka-ching, more foam disks are shot your way. Then you're handed a gun and fire is returned, as one hits him Tarrant gasps melodramatically, "Lady you wound me, ack, gasp, but I fight on!" Ka-ching! Ka-ching!

Corian is most definitely more stealthy than flamboyant. She doesn't even pause at your melodramatic gasp, though her quiet laugh is clearly audible. A disc ricochets off her forehead, and she ducks lower. "You fight well for a wounded man," she calls quietly. Then she falls silent, disappearing down an aisle in an attempt to double back and get behind you.

Tarrant continues attempting to fire on what he thinks to be your position. Sneaky as you are, he's incorrect however. Too bad he doesn't notice the clerks snickering at him, -they- can see you leaving. "My wounds merely inspire me to better marksmanship, really, it's well documented against Imperial scum."

Corian lifts a finger to her lips as she passes a snickering clerk, gray eyes shining with utter delight. One of them casually heads over to turn on a particularly noisy toy as she moves closer to you, likely masking what sounds she does make in her approach. She's only a few feet away as she fires on you, aiming for the back of your head. And then, finally, she does laugh, her delight audible. "But it seems that they do not inspire your powers of observation."

Tarrant jumps perhaps a foot as he's shot from behind, whirling to come about and fire in return. Ka-ching, ka-whir, ka-whir. Ka-whir? Whoops, see, it would seem Tarrant's out of ammo. "Ack, I am kille'd." He flops back down onto the floor, dying relatively artistically. "Blind and kille'd."

Corian fires off the last of her shots, just because she can, then applauds, still laughing. "Ah, but it was such a glorious death, van'chela." She pauses, then, and inquires, "How did you become blind?"

Tarrant opens one eye, to make sure you're done killing him. Shoving himself upright he grins and answers entirely without thinking, "Blinded by your enormous beauty I suppose, I must have been to have not noticed you sneaking around." Errm, probable tactical error, and he realizes that, but it's worse to make it obvious one realizes such things.

Corian blinks at that for a moment, cheeks already coloring. To hide that, she bends down to start collecting the discs. Busy, busy. She's collecting. Can't talk for a moment. "Thank you for the kind words, van'chela, but it is unnecessary for you to say such things." Of course, she's still busily picking up the discs as she does so, rather than looking at you.

Tarrant collects disks as well, looking for a way to mentally kick himself. Climbing creakingly to his feet he murmurs something perhaps vague. Looking about for something to cure the situation, he lights upon a wind up moose that makes disturbingly moosish sounds. "These things are endlessly amazing to me."

Corian, deftly replacing the weapons and ammo, seems more than willing to go with the subject change. Cheeks still a bit flushed, she moves to peer at the moose, a faint smile crossing her face. "They are, yes," she agrees quietly. "There are times when less technology is better." One finger moves to brush the windup key. "The toy would be somewhat less entertaining, in my opinion, if this were replaced by a button."

Tarrant winds the moose up, settling it down and letting it putter about. He moves across to a display of stuffed animals, reaching to brush at one with careful fingers. "And these guys, wonderful without any gearing at all."

Corian nods her agreement to that, with a quick smile. "I never had many of those as a child," she observes thoughtfully. "Or even now, for that matter." She takes up a teddy bear, blue-gray in color, and studies it for a moment before replacing it with a gentle pat.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"A sadness indeed then," Tarrant gestures with a sad looking brown bear, the lettle chesnut colored creature obviously sadly in need of a home and love, as is obvious by its begging expression. "Stuffed animals are...special, they love unconditionally, and are forgiving if you cannot come back to them on time."

Corian moves a step closer to get a better look at the sad looking bear, a faint smile crossing her face. "He looks like he could use a friend," she observes quietly, one hand lifting so that she may run a slender finger along his foot. After regarding the toy for a moment longer, she moves a few steps away, investigating a shelf of puzzles.

Tarrant regards the bear as well, and then you as you turn away. "It is important to have friends," he murmurs softly, almost as if to the bear. Tucking the bear under one arm, he meanders off towards the front to murmur with the clerk briefly.

Corian does not seem to notice either your words or your departure, as she's rummaging amongst the puzzles. She takes up one of them with a faint smile that suggests she's seen something similar, and dismantles the small pyramid with ease. Putting it back together, however, seems to take a bit longer.

Tarrant returns after a while, sans bear, but with a small plastiscene box, taped up against the rain. He regards the piles of puzzles with a widening grin. He touches at a puzzle made of iron lengths, "This is another fun section. It's never the same anytime I visit."

Corian, twitching the last line of the pyramid into place, nods cheerfully. "Do you think they have anything suitable for small children?" she inquires. "I was thinking of sending something to my cousin's young son. Apparently, he's reaching a difficult age, and Andree would likely appreciate a toy that would distract him for a time." With a glance at the box, she adds, "Ah, you've purchased something. Good. This seems like a store that really ought to be patronized."

Tarrant nods to that in innocent amiability, "I tried standing outside and just saying patronizing things, comments on its age, its relative ability to dress, but I've decided actually buying things here is a better method. I don't get quite as many odd looks." He nods, "The stuff for smaller kids is around the other side of this display."

Corian casts an amused look at you, then says, voice taking on a decidedly provincial accent, "This is a place people should buy stuff at." She steps around to the other side of the display, laughter in her now-accentless voice as she adds, "Is that better, van'chela?"

Tarrant ducks his head around the display, grinning at you and leaning against the heavy wood. "Awww, but I thought playing with words was the -point-..."

Corian takes up a brightly-colored puzzle, waving it at you in mock-threat

before she studies it. "Playing with words is one thing, but making -fun- of me is quite another." Her reproving tone, almost severe, is utterly at odds with her amused expression.

Tarrant attempts to look apologetic, but it's a lost cause since he's still snickering. He sighs in mock dismay, "I shall behave, or try, I am afraid I am not very talented at behaving."

Corian shakes her head at that, replacing one puzzle in favor of another. "No, no, van'chela, you most certainly must not do that," she says, both sounding and looking serious for once. "I would much prefer that you be yourself."

Tarrant looks rather sheepish, "I can try that as well, but lunatic that I am, sometimes I wonder who myself is, and how to go about being so. Hence my standard policy of just being randomly bizarre. I do not know if it is me, but I know I enjoy it."

Corian apparently selects a puzzle, as she takes up one and starts towards the counter. "Tarrant, you really are more sane than you'd like the rest of the world--including yourself--to believe. But I know the truth." She flickers a smile over her shoulder, moving to pay for the toy.

Tarrant follows along afterwards, still gently cradling his box in both arms. He chuckles quietly, "I don't know, I think being insane keeps me sane. If I'm not a lunatic, and I do what I do despite the fact I know it's wrong... Well, I prefer being insane to merely being immoral."

Corian gets a plasticine box of her own, with a quiet thankyou to the clerk. Turning back to you, she observes, "This is not a question of black and white, van'chela. There are levels of sanity, even as there are levels of morality. You do what which you do because it must be done."

Tarrant moves to hold open the door, leading outside into a now lovely day. "I do what I do. That is enough I suppose. Where to now?"

Some fluffy white clouds skirt across the skies above you.

Corian murmurs a thankyou as she steps outside, seeming just as pleased by the nice weather as she was earlier by the rain. "Perhaps the playground?" she suggests, agreeably dropping the earlier topic.

You walk towards the Java Quarter.

Java Quarter

In the very heart of the Java Quarter stands a massive granite fountain. Change glints in the basin, and a whimsically carved dragon basks amongst the pouring flows of water. A small faded plaque indicates it's a memorial of some kind. Around the fountain square lurk squat little buildings, each painted in a riot of colors and bedecked with curling wrought iron trim. Many years ago these were fine houses for people from outlying steadings coming to visit the capitol. Now they have been re-made into artist's studios, odd little stores, java shops, and bars.

The streets in this quarter are all of cobblestone, and earthenware pots are scattered at every corner. In these pots are planted quirky little topiary bushes. The streetlights are made to mimic old gas lantern-lights, and the street signs are of battered driftwood. A great deal of care has been taken to keep the flavor and charm of this district without sacrificing modern amenities. Small darkened 'alleys' lead off the narrow streets and between the cramped buildings. Dingy and with a flavor of great age to them, they're probably not the best place for tourists to go.

Obvious exits:

Hill Zimmies Bar and Grill Pavilion

You walk here from the Shop.

Tarrant walks here from the Shop.

Tarrant has arrived.

Tarrant follows along afterwards, nodding amiably, with only a quick glance around the quarter. "It sounds like a pleasant destination indeed. The day has brightened, it should be dry, and a playground is always to be investigated."

Corian heads towards one of the kinder slopes up the hill. "Well, then, we should go this way. I find it difficult to believe that you haven't found this place yet, Tarrant--and you tease -me- for not coming outside often enough."

You walk towards the Hill Overlooking the Quarter.

Hill Overlooking the Quarter

As may be implied, this hill overlooks the Java Quarter. As it's a fairly long hill, somewhat steep in places, it may be accessed by any number of stairways and ramps and paths worn in the grass.

The plateau atop the hill seems to have been preserved as some sort of public park, as trees abound, flowers are meticulously planted in neat and fussy arrangements, and cobblestone-free walkways lead to several different areas. In one, a particularly flat area has been paved for various forms of skating, and is much in use. In another, tables with checkerboard tops have been bolted to the ground--so they won't go for a walk, of course. Along the center of the plateau, surrounded by another of those fussy flower-arrangements, a long reflecting pool holds the reversed-image of the Complex. Of course, as several families of ducks have taken up residence in said pool, the image is often distorted, but isn't that the way it should be? On the opposite side of the pool from the skating area, a brightly-colored playground beckons to children of all ages, shapes, and sizes. At the end of the pool, facing the Complex, is a massive sculpture. And, as the makers of the park realize that children have needs that sometimes strike suddenly, restrooms and water fountains are available at the far end of the plateau.

To set your room doing, try 'I'm <doing>'. +view is available.

Contents:

Corian, at the top of the hill.

Obvious Exits:

Java Quarter

You walk here from the Java Quarter.

The playground holds enough variety for just about any child, no matter what age. The equipment itself is sturdy plassteel in crayon-bright colors, and appeals for both aesthetic and entertainment factors. A jungle-gym of Escher-esque complexity wraps neatly around one end of a long swingset. A playset holds two slides, one of which is of the tube variety, a pole for sliding, and various ramps and ropes and tunnels. It would make a really super fort. There's also a small sand-box, with a field to keep the sand in the box, rather than scattered about the rest of the park.

Tarrant walks here from the Java Quarter.

Tarrant has arrived.

Tarrant follows along afterwards as the path leads up the hill. "I have had little time to investigate areas outside of the efforts of work. And work hasn't led me here yet I'm afraid...oh wow..." He's spotted the playground, "Goodness."

Corian makes her way over to the playground in question, casting a decidedly pleased look over her shoulder. "Van'chela, I was recently told that life is to be experienced. It seems to me that that would involve more than work, yes?"

Tarrant follows to the playground, setting box and hat aside, as well as the bags from his jacket pockets. "True enough, there oughta' be a lot more. Still, it is work I know. And I have not always had only work, just of late, and I'm working on that." Jumping lightly he scrambles half up one side of the playground, setting about scaling it in a delighted fashion. The few small children out at this hour obviously think he's a bit odd. Adults do not do such things after all.

Corian watches for a moment with a decidedly amused smile, murmuring a reassurance to one of the closer children before replying to you, "Good." She moves to perch lightly on one of the swings, though she only rocks back and forth a bit on the swing. It's easier to watch you this way, after all.

Tarrant does not pause in his ascension until he reaches the very top of the structure. Perching atop it, he lets his feet swing, the bootheels kicking against a plastic bit. "This is indeed a superior playground."

Corian rests her cheek lightly against one hand, which is at the proper height that she need not bend over for that, wrapped lightly around the plassteel links supporting the swing. "I thought you would like it," she says, with a smile. "If nothing else, the colors would be wonderful."

Tarrant scrambles down a bit, hooking legs around the top bar of the swingset and then dropping swiftly to hang by his knees so that he's all but at head height with you, grinning inanely and with his hair sticking out in all directions. "And there's not a thing wrong with bright colors."

Corian, expression decidedly amused, observes, "I did not say that there was, did I? I am quite fond of bright colors." She just doesn't wear them, that's all. Gaze lingering on your hair, she observes, "I should have brought you here some time ago."

Tarrant half swings up, catching the bar with his arms and releasing with his legs. Dropping lightly to the sand, he grins, "It is indeed a wonderful place, I appreciate ya' showing it to me." A brief moment of consideration ensues, and then he sets about clambering up the inside of the tube slide. Yes, it's backwards, but so is he.

Corian gently pushes herself back and forth with her feet, swinging lightly as she watches. "I'm glad you like it, van'chela. Perhaps we should come here again? It is somewhat more entertaining to venture out of the Complex with company, after all."

Reaching the top of the slide, Tarrant turns, dropping onto his back and sliding to land in the sand with an artful, if graceless, thump. Climbing to his feet with a flourish he drops into the swing next to you. "You're hardly gonna find me objecting to venturing out of the Complex, let alone in pleasant comp'ny."

Corian turns to follow your progress, a warm smile lighting her face. "Wonderful," she says cheerfully. "I am certain there are many more places in which we can find something of interest, in the Quarter alone." And maybe she can find some other way to shoot you, too. Yeah!

Great, he's here to be a target. Pushing back against the ground Tarrant sets the swing into gentle motion. "It sounds like a good idea to me. Out and about and exploring. Who knows what all evil we can get into."

Corian puts on her most innocent expression, even managing to mask her gleam of mirth. "Evil? I? Van'chela, I am afraid that you mistake me. Why would I be interested in evil?"

"Oh now see -me- you can't fool with that," Tarrant says with a wry chuckle, "I -know- better. You've a deeply evil streak altogether well hidden in that innocent self of yours. Nobody else may have figured it out, but ya' ain't fooling me none."

Corian increases her altitude somewhat, swinging a bit higher. Her laugh is quiet, but delighted nonetheless. "Yes, you know me. I do hope you'll keep the secret, though. If word of my evil got out, well, then, people would stop trusting me, and then I would have much less opportunity for any actual evil."

Tarrant swings with perhaps a bit more effort, attempting to match pace. "I wouldn't give it away, nope. I muchly enjoy watching you -inflict- that evil, y'see." He grins thoughtfully, "Besides, I learned the hard way, so should the rest of the world have to."

Corian nods her agreement to that, expression holding no small amount of amusement. "Oh, certainly. That only seems fair. I have mentioned often enough that appearances may deceive, after all. One would think that someone would have picked up on it by now."

Whish, woosh, back and forth goes the swing. "Yeah," Tarrant replies, "You'd think they would've. But see, your appearance is -really- deceptive. Sets you up well for some things."

Corian nods her agreement to that, expression thoughtful. "Yes, it certainly does that. It made me somewhat suited for my former occupation, for one. After all, who would suspect me of that?" And her expression shifts back to that innocent look. Who would suspect her of -anything-?

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant nods amiably, "True enough. I find myself hard pressed to believe it, and I was there. But you were good at it." There's a pause. "Good at everything," he amends.

Corian blinks at that, her swinging slowing to a short motion as she peers at you. "At everything?" she echoes. "Van'chela, I think you make more of me than I am. I do not believe that is something that can be said of anyone, most especially of me. But my thanks for your kind words."

Tarrant continues swinging until he reaches the height the chains will take him. "I dunno, I'd lay even odds you could manage anything ya' set your mind to." Letting the swing slow, he grins.

Corian considers that for a moment. "Perhaps I could," she says, with a faint smile, "But if that is the case, then it is because I set my mind to that which can be accomplished, not because of any particular goodness at anything but my trade."

Tarrant starts to say something, but then glances upwards, frowning lightly. "As much as I hate to mention it, it is a great deal later than it was when we set out."

Corian's gaze shifts upwards as well, the moonlit shadows shifting on her face as she swings. "Yes," she agrees. "We should probably head back to the Complex." Her voice is quiet, and somewhat neutral.

"Of course," Tarrant notes with a soft laugh, "We have never been known to do what we should, now have we?"

Corian brightens just a bit, gaze still on the sky as she swings. "Ah, yes. We most certainly haven't. Perhaps I will try doing that sometime, for the novelty." She turns her eyes back to you, lips quirked with amusement. "What do you think? Are we going to go back to the Complex?"

"Hey, if you'd like to stay out here, I'm not going to object. It's a lovely evening, I enjoy the company, it's been a wonderful day." Tarrant says, half watching you sidelong from his swing. "I just don't wantcha' missing sleep."

Corian murmurs something involving the word 'should', then shakes her head. "Soon, perhaps?" she ventures. "I am not especially missing the sleep just now, but I would rather not notice the lack tomorrow morning."

Tarrant continues swinging gently, nodding to that. "Soon then, but not just yet. It is not often that lovely nights on playgrounds come along. Life is busy, and ever swirlin' all about."

Corian considers that for a moment, then inquires quietly, "Will... will you have to go away again soon, for work?" After a brief pause, she adds, "My offer of assistance still holds, of course, van'chela."

"I honestly don't know about work right now," Tarrant says, somewhat subdued. "Things are... odd. Somebody's really honestly out for me, for reasons I don't entirely fathom."

Corian shakes her head at that, her own swinging by now only a gentle rocking back and forth, aided by the occasional nudge with her toe. "I... please be careful, all right?" Her voice is quiet, and her gaze is on a particular patch of air somewhere in front of her. "I would be most upset if something happened to so dear a friend."

"I will be careful," Tarrant assures softly, regarding you once more for a lingering moment before slowing his swing and turning his regard to the park. "I enjoy being alive, and not knowing if this is the only shot at it I get, I intend to live every ounce of it as life deserves to be lived." There's a flashed grin, half devilment, half impishness. "Besides, I'm a mean old cuss, and these kids aren't about to trip me up anytime soon."

Corian finally brings her swing to a halt, heels of her shoes dragging gently against the ground. "Carpe diem," she murmurs. Then, with a faint smile, she amends, "Though perhaps that is not quite accurate for this time of day." She can't help but return your smile, though her own is somewhat less evil. "Kids," she murmurs, barely audible, before adding, "I do not doubt your abilities, of course, van'chela, but I still cannot help but worry somewhat."

"Carpe Noctum instead perhaps?" Tarrant comments with a glance upwards. He stills a moment however and nods. "Honestly? I worry. This whole situation scares me. And worries me for that matter. I mean... are they right? Have I outlived my usefulness? Am I still doing the right thing?"

Corian murmurs her agreement to the comment. Her player wasn't sure whether 'noctum' was the way to spell it, and didn't feel like finding some way to check. "I do not believe that they are right," she says quietly. "And you are still the best in the department that I have met, though, of course, that is somewhat limited. As for that last... what do you think?"

"I think I am still on the side of the white hats, but then I am a madman, I probably also think small mice speak to me and tell me of their plans for world domination." Tarrant answers in an amused tone that falls perhaps a bit flat.

Corian pauses a beat at the talk of world domination. "Van'chela," she starts, worry warring with exasperation in her tone. Then she shakes her head. "No. You will not believe me, so I don't know that I should say it again." She's silent for a moment, then, with another headshake, apparently decides that she's going to say it again anyway. "You aren't a madman."

"I think we've had to agree to disagree on this subject before, yeah?" Tarrant asks, folding elbows to rest on knees. "Plum loony. A fanatic."

Corian nods an affirmative to the question. She regards you for a long moment, then apparently decides to let you have the last word on that subject, at least for now. "Why don't we go back," she suggests quietly.

Tarrant does not object, instead unfolding his lanky form from the swing. Padding across the sand he retrieves hat and box. "It is awfully late."

Corian gets to her feet as well, though it's more floating than unfolding. Each swing gets a gentle push as she passes it to follow you. She pauses once she reaches you to peer at the image, of the empty swings and the moonlight, her face likely visible only in profile from your position. "Yes," she agrees quietly as she turns to face you. "Quite late. We should have gone back hours ago, though I am glad that we didn't."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"As am I glad," Tarrant's voice is soft enough that it's almost a whisper, the drawl barely audible. As you watch the tableau of moonkissed swings devoid of children, he's watching you. He takes a half step forward, almost to say something, but brings himself up short. Instead with a courtly gesture he indicates the path. "Shall we then?"

Corian nods to that, casting a look over her shoulder to the swings before turning back to the path. She smiles to you as she passes, absently checking her pockets to make sure that the contents is still visible. "So it seems we are doing as we should, after all."

[Travelspam deleted, resumes in the fourth floor lounge.]

Tarrant follows along after you, one step behind and a half pace to the left, his bootheels making oddly soft footfalls on the marble flooring. As your door is reached he simply proffers the box wordlessly.

Corian reaches to take the box, expression a bit puzzled. "Thank you, van'chela... but what is it?" Somehow, the answer she's looking for is probably not 'a box'.

And thankfully Tarrant is kind enough not to answer that. Instead he simply replies, "It is for you." His expression is not as sheepish as it normally would be, simply sadly intent. "Open it if you like."

Corian carefully opens the box, then, brows lifting a bit at your expression. As she takes out the teddy bear, her gaze lingers on it for a moment, then lifts back to you. "Thank you," she says softly, a warm smile erasing her puzzlement. "It was not necessary, but most appreciated.... thank you. For the gift, and for the pleasant evening."

"He seemed like he needed a friend," Tarrant explains quietly. "And since you were kind enough to be my friend when I so badly needed one, I thought perhaps you might be willing to take in another stray." There's a pause, "And besides, you mentioned a lack of stuffed bearage in your life. Stuffed animals approve unconditionally, and have no demands on their time. He can be your friend when I cannot be here to be so."

Corian's gaze flicks to the bear for a moment, then back to you, something unreadable in your eyes. "Van'chela, it is not a kindness to be your friend," she says quietly, "But something that I treasure. I am most glad to have another friend, though." She doesn't say anything about your statement about not being here, but it seems those particular words make her look just a bit troubled.

Tarrant steps a half step back to effect a sweeping bow. "Good night, Corian," he offers as he straightens. "May what remains of it fare as pleasantly as that which has come before. I appreciate the time spent, it was a terrible lot of fun."

Corian returns the bow with one of her own, though it takes a bit of bear- and box-juggling to free up the requiste hand to go over her heart. "Good evening," she replies softly, gaze lifting to your face. "Dream sweetly, van'chela." She does not, however, move to enter her room just yet.

"And you," Tarrant's words are soft, and he takes only a half step back, as if reluctant indeed to go. "The candles of the hour have burnt away, and while a thousand thoughts intermix and a thousand words die abourning, the stole of sleep creeps over, bringing with it the panacea of dreaming."

Corian regards you for a long moment, a faint smile on her lips. She looks to be a heartbeat away from saying something, but the words never actually leave her lips. After another moment or two of watching you, she says quietly, "Good night, van'chela." And then she finally does turn to go into her room, casting only the briefest of glances at you over her shoulder.

You unlock the door and go into room Y8.

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