8/9/99

Greer climbs the board ladder up into the treehouse.

Greer has arrived.

Tara climbs the board ladder up into the treehouse.

Tara has arrived.

Corian is seated at the far end of the treehouse, legs tucked under her. She, too, apparently came here to read, as she's doing just that, a datapad in her lap, a portable terminal tucked to one side. She's humming quietly under her breath as she reads, with the occasional stop and start.

Tara follows the spawnling up quickly, shaking her head briefly to get rid of some of the rain's aftermath. "There. That was worth it, Greer, see?"

The child nods amiably, curious eyes on the woman reading. "Y'know, I see more grownups up here than kids."

Corian looks up with a curious little smile. "You just missed perhaps half of the Sectassian younglings," she replies. "They left when the rain started, but, since I cannot hear the rain on the roof in my quarters, I decided to stay here."

Tara does not appear to be disappointed at having missed the Sectassians. In fact, she looks rather relieved. "You like hearing the rain?"

Greer echoes her mother's question, a twinge of fascination in her eyes as she takes a step forward. "It's the drum for your song?"

"The drum for my song," Corian echoes thoughtfully. "I had not thought of it in quite that way, but, yes, I suppose that it is. I do like hearing the rain, though," she adds, with a smile. "There is something relaxing about it, having the sound in the background while I am thinking or working." Her smile turns rather curious, and she adds, this time to Greer, "I am Corian. I do not believe that we have met, though."

Greer glances up toward Tara, who nods with a grin, then closes the distance to peer thoughtfully at Corian. "You're right. You would remember me if you had. I'm Greer." After a second, she sticks out her hand awkwardly. "Corian? I've heard that name somewhere... Mama?" Rain or no, Tara moves out onto the nearest balcony, close enough to listen. "Clara mentioned her, I believe, hon."

Corian reaches out her own hand to accept the child's, long, thin, overly-jointed fingers closing gently around Greer's hand as she shakes it. "I am very pleased to meet you, Greer," she says, with a smile. "And I would not be surprised if Clara had mentioned me. She is a very dear friend."

Greer peers curiously at said hand before withdrawing her own. "She is? Is everybody friends with Doctor Clara? Oh! Very pleased to meet you too," she enunciates carefully, and grins.

Corian notes the curious look and extends the hand for a better look, should that be desired, though not offering an explanation just yet. "I do not know that -everyone- is friends with her, as not everyone knows her, but it would not surprise me if most people were," Corian replies, her smile warm, but nonetheless holding just a hint of amusement. "Clara is a very easy person to have as a friend, after all." (Yes, Riley, your sister said that your lady is easy.)

Greer is very careful not to touch, but she does lean forward to examine the hand curiously after a quick glance at Corian. "Different. Is it different or co... com..." "Cosmetic," Tara supplies, torn between embarrassment and pride. "Cos-met-ic, thank you. That's true," the child nods. "She is very friendly. And she gives brave people ice cream." What's not to like?

Corian wiggles one finger, showing off the multiple joints therein. "It is part of being as Edreeni as I am," she replies, with a smile, one that is flickered towards Tara as well. Apparently, this isn't the first time a kid has been curious about her hands.

Greer ohs! "I read about Edreeni, a little. I'm still trying to learn about humans though. There is a lot to read on the subject." Tara relaxes slightly, her daughter's less-than-perfect social behavior apparently accepted with good humor.

Corian nods sagely at that. "The part of me that is not Edreeni is human, so I cannot help but be pleased with your choice of reading material." Her hands get tucked back in her lap, the model of decorum.

Greer beams. "Really? Mama said I had to take some of it back to the library. It wasn't ap-prop-ri-ate. But I still got the rest. I'm going to read it all. -Then- the stuff on Edreeni. Then the Zaeltans."

"Be sure to pay proper attention to the tails of the Zaeltans," Corian suggests. "They think very highly of their tails." Their tails are part of who they are! "I do think, though, yes, that your mother is a good judge of what is appropriate for you to read." And she flickers a smile towards Tara, apparently not at all fazed by the revelation that actually happened several poses ago.

Greer casts a look toward her mother, who's apparently studying intently the man tending the weeds outside in a tight shirt in the rain. "Do you think so?" the girl asks very quietly. "Knowledge is knowledge. How do you know if she is?" She pauses, then notes wistfully, "Having a tail would be neat."

Corian offers amiably, "Tails may be made, though I do think it unlikely that you will sprout a tail on your own. And, though I disliked hearing such things when I was younger, there are some things that younger people simply are not ready to know. Your mother, as she is older, is a better judge of what should be learned at what time. And she knows you as well, yes? Who better to judge?"

Greer hesitates. "Grownups don't know better -all- the time." She's pretty sure of that, though she admits thoughtfully, "She knows me. It'd be hard for her not to, right?" The girl shrugs, unable to come up with an answer to the last question.

Corian shakes her head. "Grownups most certainly do not," she agrees. "And even grownups make mistakes from time to time. But they also have more experience with living."

From the ground, Tarrant walks here from the Java Quarter.

From the ground, Tarrant has arrived.

From the ground, Tarrant makes his way up the hill, carrying a bag and looking -altogether- too pleased with himself at the moment. Meandering across the park he's whistling something probably offensively cheerful. This is a happy guy. Unsurprisingly he makes his way towards the treehouse.

Greer glances again toward Tara, who's blushing hard despite the fact that she's still studiously pretending she's not listening. "Okay." That sounds reasonable to the kid, though she insists with a hint of apology in her tone, "But knowledge is still knowledge."

Tara's attention is distracted from the nice muscular guy out there weeding to the newcomer. "If he starts singing 'I love you, you love me', I will certainly throw up." She's amused however, and raises her voice slightly. "Company, folks."

"Knowledge is knowledge," Corian agrees amiably. "And it is a wonderful thing to posess, but you must be sure to take it in at the proper time. After all--" She pauses, then. Yes, she's spotted Tarrant, and smiles, suddenly looking rather pleased, concluding, "There are some things that should be learned when you are older."

From the ground, Tarrant climbs the board ladder up to the treehouse.

From the ground, Tarrant has left.

Tarrant climbs the board ladder up into the treehouse.

Tarrant has arrived.

Tarrant scrambles up the ladder with a lot more agility than seventy year old guys should have. Realizing Corian's here he looks both a bit sheepish and terribly pleased. "Evening, love." A polite nod and the tip of a non-existant hat is offered to Greer and Tara as well as a grin, "Good evening ladies." He drops down to sit near Corian.

Tara gives Tarrant a wave as well as a polite smile. "Long time, no see."

Greer looks between Corian and Tarrant, catching his greeting to the woman. "That's Mister Czolgosz?" And she can probably spell it too. "Hello," she offers brightly, exuding those darn cute rays. "But Corian, what happens when I learn everything I should know now? It'd be boring to stop learning."

Corian is, yes, very pleased to have Tarrant here, and flickers a smile to him. "That's Mister Czolgosz," she confirms to Greer. "Love, this is Greer," she adds. "And Mister Czolgosz would probably be happier if you called him Tarrant." With a thoughtful pause, she says, "Well, learning takes time, yes? By the time you have learned everything that you should know when you are the age that you are -now-, time will have passed, and you will be older, and thus there will be more to learn. There is, after all," she concludes, with a hint of a smile, "Much to learn, even for a person of your age."

Uh-oh, cute child. Tarrant looks pleased. He is a small child you see, despite apparent visual cues to contest that. Rummaging in the bag he's carrying he tugs out a mournful looking stuffed moose. Little does he know he's probably more of a toy fan than this very adult small child. "Nice t'meetcha' Greer. And yes, most folks call me Tarrant. Mr. Czolgosz is my daddy." Daddy comes out sounding like 'deddy' of course, because he has that ever-present southern drawl. "I went to the toy store," he explains to Corian. "And Murray here spoke to me." Tara is given another hat tilt, to the hat he isn't wearing. "A pleasure to make your re-acquaintance, ma'am."

Greer blinks, somewhat awed. "You have a -daddy-? But you're a grownup! You're supposed to -be- a daddy." She gives the moose a dubious, albeit envious, look. "He doesn't look like much of a talker..." Tara grins, moving in out of the rain. "Of course it is, Tarrant." Greer's already looking back at Corian thoughtfully, then she grins. "Whoever came up with that system was smart."

Corian casts a quick smile over to Murray, reaching out a hand to run one slender finger along the side of his face. "Nice to meet you, Murray," she murmurs. She does, though, cough quietly at Greer's comment about Tarrant's daddy-hood, but doesn't comment to it. Evil woman, she'll leave that to her husband. Instead, she says to Greer, "I will tell my father that you think so, then, when next I speak with him. I do not know that he came up with the system, but it was he who explained it to me."

Tarrant causes the moose to engage in a soft shoe routine on the treehouse floor. The rather solemn Murray seems unthrilled. "Grownups have daddys too. Although they tell me I'm not much of a grown-up, so maybe I don't count." Murray gets to cartwheel now. "And of course he talks. You just hafta' know how to speak moose."

Greer nods solemnly. "I'm glad he told you. Otherwise you couldn't have told me." She turns slightly to look Tarrant up and down. "Good." She takes a step closer to him, and coincidentally to the moose, stagewhispering confidentially, "It's more fun being a kid, I think. How'd you learn to speak moose?" Tara seems rather amused as she settles tailor fashion on the floor.

"It is knowledge," Corian replies to Greer, with a hint of a smile, though her eyes flicker to the poor, dancing moose. "And it is fun to share knowledge, after all." Yep, she should've been a teacher, or a librarian, or something like that.

Tarrant has the moose fall down as if attempting to catch his breath from all the exertion. "Being a kid is a lot of fun, although people keep giving you exasperated looks a lot when you suggest the department would really benefit by the inclusion of a toy train for messages instead of a pneumatic tube." He sighs in a long suffering fashion. Evil people who won't let him have a toy. "I learned moose from Corian. She's a linguist." Aha, evil returned.

Greer blinks, reaching automatically to comfort the moose, only to snatch her hands back without touching it, hiding them behind her back. "Toy trains are neat to watch," she agrees, distracted. "Department?" She turns her full bright smile on Corian. "You like to share knowledge? Can you share with me how to speak moose?"

Corian, as she really is a very evil woman, is likely going to get much revenge on Tarrant for that particular evil. Her expression doesn't even hint at that reaction, though. "I am afraid that I have lost much of my abilities to speak moose. I could teach you to speak some Zaeltan, though," she offers. "Or perhaps Edrilac." She does not, though, it may be noted, answer the question on the Department.

Tarrant would probably be the kind of father who informs his youngest daughter that of -course- he exposed her brothers on the rocks. He gestures in a vaguely pitiful fashion with the moose. "Mooses need hugs you know. They get such bad press and all, it makes them very sad." He gives Corian -such- a cute and pathetically innocent look.

Greer only seems disappointed for a fraction of a second. "There's more people to talk Zaeltan and Edrilac with than mooses," she notes brightly. "Mama says learning lots of languages is ess... essne... existential?" Not looking particularly pleased at being quoted, Tara supplies quietly, "Essential." "Essential, thank you. I would be honored to learn from you, Corian." Greer chooses her words carefully, all the while, eyeing Tarrant. Taking the gesture and his words as a 'go ahead' sort of thing, she reaches very carefully for Murray, cuddling him to her with inaudible murmurs.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Communication is essential," Corian oberves, with a flicker of a smile towards Tara. "If you speak someone else's language, sometimes it helps you to understand that person's point of view." At the child's careful phrasing, she smiles brightly, and offers a graceful--though still seated--bow, hand over her heart, fingers splayed. "And I would be honored to teach you, when my work will allow it, should your mother agree."

Tarrant can't help but melt at the small child cuddling the moose. Moose cuddling apparently is a soft spot for him? "See, he looks happier already."

Tara nods with an amiable smile. "Linguistic skills are valuable in this galaxy. And if you want to be an exobiologist like Clara, Greer, even invaluable perhaps."

Greer grins in pure childish delight, her arms tightening- not enough to cut off Murray's breathing, of course- around the moose. "Mama says I'll be in school soon. Maybe in the daytimes, after school sometimes?" She nods happy agreement with Tarrant. "He does, doesn't he! I didn't know mooses could be that happy." Ah, the imagination of a child.

Corian's expression softens--not that it was hard--at the moose-hugging. "Clara speaks at least two languages, to my knowledge," she observes, "And she is learning a third as well. It is a useful thing to know. And after school is fine, yes, of course."

"You would be amazed how happy mooses can be. He looks very happy indeed right where he is," Tarrant agrees with equally pleased solemnity.

Greer unwittingly wreaks havoc with biological clocks? "That's not surprising," she nods to Corian, trying out a tickle on the moose, and giggles merrily at the imagined result. "Doctor Clara's smart. As smart as me, even." She looks up at Tarrant with big blue eyes and a grin. "It's a lap thing, do you think?"

Corian nods her agreement to that. "Doctor Clara is very smart, yes," she agrees. And, yes, she's throttled her biological clock and stuffed it in a small box.

"A lap thing?" Tarrant sounds puzzled, tilting his head slightly to one side as if he were a spaniel. He's male though, and lacks a true biological spawn clock.

Greer nods firmly, not noticing her mother blushing in the background. "A lap thing. Like at night, when Mama rocks me in her lap til I fall asleep. Maybe hugs are like that for mooses?" She nods vigorously to Corian. "Doctor Clara's about the smartest person in the Complex! She knows how to operate. And she has ice cream." Ice cream=brain food?

Corian awws very very quietly at that. She can't help herself. It's too cute. "I would not be surprised if that were the case," she murmurs, though the question was, yes, directed to Tarrant. The ringing praise of Clara gets a pleased smile, though. "Doctor Clara is, yes, very smart, and a gifted surgeon. You're very perceptive, chernubia."

Tarrant may not have a biological clock, but he just melted. He wants one! "That sounds about right to me, indeed. Mooses need lots and lots of hugs. Otherwise they start looking all sad again."

Tara feels her tough rep slipping away, but merely chuckles with quiet tolerance. Greer bites her lip in concern, her intent gaze on Tarrant. "You'll hug Murray lots though, won't you? And you'll have to take him on your trips, so he doesn't get lonely." Corian gets a curious look. "Cherrrrnubia?"

Corian repeats the word carefully. "It is a word in Kashidian," she replies, with a smile. "Literally, it is a confection, a sweet thing to eat, but it is often used as an endearment."

Tarrant considers this a long moment, "I go on an awful lot of trips to places mooses aren't allowed. Maybe you should keep him and give him lots of hugs. We wouldn't want him to be -deprived- now would we?"

Greer considers Cori's words for a moment. "Like 'honey'? I'm perceptive?" She beams- there's few higher compliments in her book. "Thank you! You learn more, being perceptive." But Tarrant's words get her complete attention, and she gazes at him, wide-eyed. "Really?" she squeaks, hugging the moose to her. "No, of course not, no dep-riv-ation. But wouldn't you miss him?" She wouldn't want to deprive a neat kid like Tarrant of his friend after all.

Corian is kind and doesn't mention Tarrant's teddy bear. She just slips an arm around him, leaning lightly against him. With a nod to Greer, she confirms softly, "Like 'honey,' yes, and you are quite perceptive."

That's not Tarrant's teddy bear! It's Corian's! He just...borrows it a little. "Not if I knew he was getting all kinds of hugs all the time. He'd be a lot happier that way." Yes, the lengths Tarrant will go to for small children, giving up mooses.

Greer beams more, repeating 'chernubia' to herself softly a few times. Oh, now Tarrant's gone and done it. Wild with delight, the little girl jumps up and tries to give him an enthusiastic hug. "Thank you! And Murray says thank you too!" See, she's learning moose-speak already. Then she blinks at the kid-man. "/Tarrant/! You're the one who built this place, aren't you!"

Oh, no, she's -hugging- Tarrant. Wham. Smash. Pow. Lookie! Biological clock bits, alll over the floor. Corian does, it may be noted, un-slip her arm from around Tarrant and moves away, the better to facilitate kidlet-hugging. And, yes, she awws, and smiles, and generally looks pleased.

Tarrant returns the hug, a vertiable puddle of awww-dom himself. And it can't help that he's being showered in clock bits probably. "You're welcome, Greer, and you too Murray." He smiles in a bemused fashion, "Not alone, but I had a hand in it, yeah. I felt this place needed a treehouse."

Greer nods, flopping down on the floor again to moose-cuddle happily (can't chance Murray being unhappy, after all), and completely unaware of any odd effects she's having on grownups. "It was a good idea," she decides. "I keep meeting nice people here. Doctor Clara said -you're- her good friend too." She glances toward the paisley wall, but decides to politely refrain from comment.

Corian takes advantage of the child's floor-flopping to shift closer to Tarrant. "It is a good place to be," she murmurs, glancing around the treehouse.

And a good thing that, the paisley wall is Tarrant's favorite. He's indeed proud of it. He echoes the shift, moving closer to Corian. "I like to think so. Miz Clara is a terribly nice lady, even if she did carve her initials in my kneecap."

Greer nods fervent agreement with Corian. "Roof doesn't leak either. That's always a good thing." She blinks up at Tarrant, startled, then thinks about that for a moment. "Didn't that -hurt-? I thought Doctor Clara doesn't hurt -anybody-. Wouldn't it be easier to get a tattoo?" In the shadows, Tara seems faintly pleased- /she's/ not unaware of Greer-effects. Now she knows who to leave -this- kid with next time she gets arrested. :)

Corian would, yes, very likely jump at the chance to babysit. She's a big fan of small children. After all, she puts up with the Sectasslets. "I do think I might object if Tarrant had Clara's initials tatooed anywhere," she murmurs, a hint of humor in her voice.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant stifles a quiet laugh, tapping at his knee. "It's a joke from when she fixed it," he attempts to explain. He's starting to sound a bit vague however.

Greer peers at Corian curiously. "Why? Oh..." She glances over her shoulder toward Tara, then back to the linguist. "You're not the sharing type either?" Complete understanding comes over her expression at Tarrant's words. "She fixed me too. She's very, very good at fixing people." She leans forward to peer at him. "You look like it's rocking time for you. Maybe Corian can take you home and rock you?" Tara seems to have a sudden coughing fit.

"When it comes to Tarrant," Corian replies, with a serene smile, "I share not at all well, no. I think, though, that it is, yes, rocking time. Again, you are perceptive, chernubia." She casts a flickered smile to Tara for that coughing, then inquires of Tarrant, "Cha'trez? Would you like to go home, then?"

Tarrant's ears go several shades of red, but he does murmur quiet agreement, "Sleep would be good I think, I'm afraid it was an early morning indeed."

Greer shudders in unison with her mother. "Early is evil," the girl recites. Beaming at Corian- three perceptives in one night is good even for her- she nods, rising and dusting off her dress fastidiously. "Cha'trez is Kashidian too?"

Corian nods as she gets lightly to her feet and gathers datapad and portable computer before offering her hand to Tarrant. "Cha'trez is Kashidian as well," she confirms. "It is... heartsong, approximately."

Tarrant accepts the hand, climbing with sleepy ease to his feet. Corian is given a decidedly fond grin. "Early is a deep wrongness." He lifts his non-existant hat in a polite farewell. "Good eve'nin, ladies."

Greer thinks hard on that one, but shakes her head. "I've never heard of a heartsong before." But she doesn't ask for an explanation- her new friend Tarrant needs his sleep. "Next time you can tell me what that is?" She gives Tarrant a wild wave, then helps Murray wave too. "Good night, Tarrant! It was very nice meeting you." Tara nods to the couple, not looking entirely awake herself. "Y'all have a good night," she murmurs.

"Next time," Corian agrees, starting for the ladder. "Enjoy your evening, both of you. And dream sweetly, when you go to your rest." With that, she makes her way down the ladder to the ground.

[Travelspam home deleted.]

Tarrant makes his way towards the bed, shedding and hanging up his jacket and carefully tucking away boots. Tonight is too tired for pajamas. He slides beneath the quilt, muttering something about speed learning sessions. "Adorable kidling."

Corian drops off various electronic equipment, drooping somewhat herself as she heads for the bedroom area. "Far too adorable," she agrees, though she pauses for pajamas before getting in the bed and curling up with you. "Oh, dear," she adds, with a hint of a concerned frown for the mutter. "You should sleep, then, cha'trez. Those are difficult."

Tarrant snuggles in close, tucking himself around you. "Hence the trip to the toy store. Figure I deserved a turn to play. Terribly adorable, sleep's good. Painfully cute, rocking to sleep, wonderful kid..." And with that vague train of murmuring Tarrant is almost asleep, pausing only to add, "We need one one day," and then *thunk*.

Oh, sure, say something like that and then go to sleep. Evil man. Corian just nods slowly, expression thoughtful. "One day," she murmurs, putting a padlock around her biological clock and then kissing your cheek before she settles down for some sleep of her own.


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