R'wign vs. Dmitri [Last Round]

[rii]

Last Round

Round starter: R'wign

[glamourie]

The final round had finally come, and he was up against a harper. If that wasn’t bad enough, it was technically the harper who was replacing Marra. He didn’t know much about the kid except that he was a kid – he hadn’t even watched the other rounds (for the reason of not wanting to sabotage himself – stage fright was bad enough without his ego coming into the equation) to know what he was up against. Just the same, harper meant he was at a disadvantage – simply because harpers were used to performing in front of other people. Part of him was very nervous. Most of him wasn’t; if he lost, he lost, it didn’t matter anymore since he made it to the final round. Good enough for him. Just the same, he didn’t intend to make it easy, and upon finding out that he would be starting the round, R’wign decided to do a last minute catch-up to make sure he was properly prepared this time. Unlike the last two times. Pathetic, on his part. Tch.

The outfit he wore to the Gather really was better described as a ‘costume’ than an outfit; it definitely looked like it belonged more with the Masquerade Gather. He had on black slacks that were lace-up-the-sides (he’d actually had them made when he was still in Healer Hall and having to find pants from when he was fifteen was an interesting experience – he was kind of impressed they fit) and bound together near his hip with black cord laces. His ankle boots were laced with his belled anklet from the Gather he’d decided to spontaneously cross-dress at, and he’d tied the layered purple and blue skirt around his waist like a sash; the length hung down over the side of one leg, which doubtlessly looked strange, but hey, at least it wasn’t a skirt this time. The top was a white tunic with black accenting on the sides and no sleeves; he had black fingerless gloves on to help accent the look. Coupled with the very pink hair and R’wign looked… well, comical, but there really wasn’t a theme to the outfit. At least it was funny. He jingled when he walked, too. Jingle jingle. The real accent for the outfit though was the black studded collar (a gift from Kalierre – heh), the necklace with the wooden carved dragon from M’ta, and the face makeup: in his boredom, R’wign had smeared all kinds of purple and blue over his face on the side with his real eye. He’d also went with a white eye patch as opposed to the usual black one. He thought he looked amusing!

He was happy that the weather suited the layers of clothing, too. It was actually ‘chilly’ (for the South, which meant most Northerners were still wearing almost nothing while the Southerners were shivering and wearing scarves) so the extra layers didn’t make him feel unbearably hot. Though, he wasn’t cold with no sleeves, either. He thought it felt good outside. Perfect weather for trying to come up with a story too – it was sunny, if on the colder side. Yay sun.

His motley crew of pets were all left with M’ta (whether the other brownrider liked it or not, he’d have to deal with all six firelizards and one particularly anxious salamandyr who was not happy about being parted from R’wign). He didn’t want their help telling this story, though whether or not they’d stay gone was dependent on how much M’ta irritated most of them. After all, they were ornery critters. Especially Vex. She did so hate to be parted from Hers. He was already receiving a steady stream of pleading through his mind from the salamandyr to please, please let her come hide with him, she’d be good, she would, she just didn’t want him to not love her, please… Except Vex and good in the same sentence was about as likely as R’wign being good, which was to say that it wouldn’t happen. R’wign wasn’t even biasing against her for her salamandyr heritage, he just knew she couldn’t behave. And the harper, if he remembered right, had a salamandyr queen. The last thing he needed was a fight because Vex liked to instigate. So she had to stay with his weyrmate.

At the edge of the stage, R’wign scratched his nose and waited for the announcement of the last round to begin. Only once the announcer was finished speaking did he move up onto the stage, his queasiness being swallowed down. It didn’t matter if he won. It didn’t. He’d had fun, and he wanted to continue to have fun. That was what mattered. Right. (The problem was, he was competitive. He liked winning. Shard it all.)

R’wign waited only a second before an idea occurred to him – perhaps it was a silly idea, but it was different than what he’d participated in before, and R’wign was fine with silliness. In his opinion, Pern could use a little more of it. He didn’t look at his partner. He was a harper. He’d be able to work with it, he was sure. No worries about that.

He burst into spontaneous skipping, right to the center of the stage before formally bowing, in what could only be described as a playful gesture. “Good morning, Blossom Hold. Today, my partner and I have been invited to tell you a story. Me, I don’t particularly fancy telling you wild, outlandish tales of what could happen if you do this wrong, or if you don’t listen to your parents and your leaders. Not today, anyway, and I expect none of you are too interested in that either, am I right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead wagging his finger. If it was strange to address the audience in such a manner, R’wign didn’t realize it. “I’d much rather take advantage of the fact that my partner, here, is a harper. You know they specialize in history lessons – so I’m betting he can help me fill in the gaps on where I’m confused, and maybe help explain some things to you, too. You see, when I was little, my mama used to tell me this story – and well, I never quite understood all of it. I think I fell asleep during large portions. How many people can sympathize there? I’m betting most every holdbrat can.”

So the stage was set; it was going to be a children’s story. Those were what he was most comfortable with. Little kids tended to appreciate fabrications more than any adult, and anyway, the last story he told was more ‘mature’ than he liked. He really preferred silliness. Like the story of the little gold firelizard who would never clutch if he didn’t clap really loud that was told when he was a child at Healer Hall – those kinds of stories were what he missed, and he didn’t really care if his partner liked it or not. It was something he wanted to tell and he got to start, so shard it, he would.

“I remember my mama mentioning to me a story of where the Alphabet came from. How many of you know it’s real origins? In lessons, we usually get told what the sounds are – but not where each of them came from. That’s because some of our scholars would like you to believe that we were the first ones to invent those sounds. Not so!” Shaking his head furiously, pink locks flaring around his face as he moved, R’wign gestured off toward the jungle in the distance. “No, the creation of the Alphabet as we know it – A through Z – it wasn’t from a human, or a dragon. We weren’t the ones who thought that up, though we’d like to think we are. The first creatures to think up our Alphabet, and all the sounds that come with it, were actually something much smaller. Smaller, and far more innocent. Do you know what they were?” R’wign paused, listening for answers, before smiling. “Here’s a hint – their names were Etchi and Laeran… and they were green and blue respectively. The whole tale took place not too far from here, on a stretch of beach untouched by human hands. It started as a game between two friends, mere children, not so different from most of the holdbrats here, so very long ago…”

[Requiem]

It had started out as a small little mutual whimsy, gaining momentum until...this. Dmitri, for all that he loved a good performance, hadn't really intended to make a huge competition of it. Namely because that made it more difficult to duck out when they decided to put a round in the middle of the day. Come on now. Sure, most people were diurnal, but they had jobs, didn't they? Didn't they? His eyes and - perhaps more importantly - his skin were not at all accustomed to the southern sunlight. He was going to turn into one giant freckled lobster, he was certain.

Yes, he knew R'wign. Kinda hard not to at least know of the one-eyed Weyrhealer bonded to Checkoth-of-the-Two-Tails and former lover of his predecessor (who, ironically, Dmitri had never met.) Add pink-haired firelizard magnet to the list and that pretty much clinched it. Who else could it be? Shame, too. Marra's former associations were very definitely on Dmitri's 'to be avoided if at all possible' list. Replacing her was awkward. Though not too terribly awkward; how many toes could a nocturnal harper manage to step on, after all? He lived in a different world. A world that hated this sunlight. Tch.

His hair had been pulled back in a mess of braids, then cinched with a clip to pull the forward ones back. It weighted down the hair enough to keep it from blowing everywhere but that wasn't the main reason for it; Dementia liked swinging on them. All the fun rope ladders to climb and jump around on. This was, she felt, his main purpose in life...to be her jungle gym. (At least for the afternoon. Or until she wanted oiling.) Currently she was clinging at about waist level and commenting disdainfully on the crowd in mandyr whisper. Smellies everywhere, she grumbled happily. Always happiest when complaining or raging.

If R'wign was dressed to draw a laugh, Dmitri simply was funny looking. The tunic and pants were normal enough, and he wore harper colors (mostly due to the fact that he didn't own much of anything else, not caring for shopping much) but the gloves were...well a bit much. Thick and elbow length. He'd wound a light material around his face that was better suited to desert dwellers, topping it with the same wide-brimmed hat and it's ridiculously long feather that he'd worn to the hatching. The evil sun must be kept away.

A slow smile crossed his face as R'wign began, though. (Not that anyone could really see his face.) Dmitri liked the start already. It was different. Sweeping forward, the gloved hands came up and parted, a movement executed to draw the eye. "Did they think to themselves, 'we're going to create an alphabet today, a wondrous code of sounds that will make words and one day be used by all kinds of creatures'? Of course not. It was just one of those days when your parents have been gone longer than expected, you've eaten and bathed and you're looking for anything to distract yourself from all those nasty chores. Our little friends were tearing apart a beanpod, seeing how far they could make the peas fly, when one of them rolled under a particularly large fern. They couldn't decide who had won, since they couldn't see how far the pea rolled.

"Now, why didn't they just go see? you ask me. I suppose they could have done that. But it was more fun to decide who won by another game. They thought and thought, not sure which game they should play." Glancing to R'wign, Dmitri asked him directly, "Should it be the race game?" A pause. "No, no, you're right. Much too hot." Pacing a short ways away from him in studied thought, the harper whirled back. "How about the diving game? But the water is fast right now...what game should we play?"

[glamourie]

Errr. Why did harper man look like something out of a horror story, complete with oddball costume? Not that he had a right to talk but still, R’wign blinked twice at Dmitri and cocked his head to the side, letting a playful (if mostly fake) smile dance over his face; he was good at plastering false expressions up for others to enjoy. The amount of people who could tell the difference between real and fake with him could be counted on one hand. He didn’t really know what to think of Dmitri yet – and he was reserving judgment aside from private amusement at him for looking like a blanket monster. He kind of wanted to make ‘orar’ noises at him and little clawing motions. Seriously, his costume/get-up thing reminded him of the stories that he told Teri and Riaren, and that most children believed about the monster under the bed. It was hilarious to him. He was polite enough not to laugh out loud; that would’ve been… embarrassing. Right. Story.

“I KNOW!” he blurted out as soon as Dmitri stopped speaking. Too loud, too excited? Perhaps. Did R’wign care? No. He was putting a note into his voice of excitement – one of almost giddy glee – and he literally bounced in his spot. Just a simple hop – one, two, feet barely touching the ground – before he clapped his hands together. “I know, I know, Etchi, let’s play the sound game. Can we play the sound game? It’s really simple, Etchi, we can play the sound game – you see, we just make sounds and then we draw symbols for those sounds, and whoever quits first loses. The only rule is that the symbols have to look somewhat different. We can draw them in the sands, Etchi, do you want to play?” He was obviously speaking as ‘Laeren’ of the two that he mentioned, and R’wign bounced as he spoke, clapping the entire time. It was very easy to forget the audience – he was reminded of the time he put the chairs together in the infirmary and climbed on them. Fun.

Was he behaving bizarrely? Yeah, perhaps. It wasn’t normal to get as into the story as he was, but this one came so naturally that R’wign couldn’t help himself. One of his favorite things to do was to go out of his way to make people laugh – see pink hair for emphasis. If bouncing around and chanting in an excitedly hyper glee was enough to amuse the audience, then that was what mattered. No, he hadn’t forgotten that they were telling a story; he understood that perfectly. But what good was a story without characters? Dmitri had opened the door in how he spoke – they were to be Laeran and Etchi for the audience, and he’d let Dmitri pick the personality Etchi was to have. Perhaps they could complement one another and come up with a pair of memorable sillies to amuse all the holdbrats. That remained to be seen, but this story felt more natural to him than any he’d told thus far, and he wasn’t about to let himself be put off by eyes on him. Since when did he care about being watched?

R’wign grabbed Dmitri’s gloved hands and literally wrapped his own around them. He didn’t really care if his partner liked being touched or not –for the show, he could put up with it. He’d normally mind people’s personal space preferences more (he was good about that, even if he did love to needle people), but it didn’t go with the story they were telling or the atmosphere he was hoping to create. He wanted the audience to forget that it was two mostly-grown individuals on the stage. They needed to envision what they were supposed to be: a pair of very happy children, of what species was irrelevant. Overgrown child R’wign could do.

“I’ll staaaaart, I’ll start,” he chanted, bouncing in a circle around the harper. Way, way too energetic. He released Dmitri’s hands to bounce around him actively, clapping the entire time – and forming a rhythm as he did so. That was the intent; clap, stomp, clap, stomp. “Aaaaaaayyyyy~” The sound of the letter ‘A’ was sung out – off key, but whatever, he wasn’t the harper, that was Dmitri. “Ayyyy is for animals and animate and all things artistic, A is for And and All of the Above – ” How was he going to draw the symbols…? “ – and it looks like this!” The idea struck him as he began to speak and he drew in imaginary sand the letter of the capital A in front of him. It didn’t last since he was drawing in the air but – well, that was what the imagination was for, since he had no ink or parchment of any kind, shard it all.

“‘Buhhh’ is for Blue and Bronze and Brown, all the colors that dragons come in, for beautiful babies and buttery baked breads! But best of all, the ‘buh’ sound is also for the ‘bee’ that comes in being the Best of the Best, and it kinda looks like that – c’mon, c’mon, Etchi, you try~” And as he drew the symbol of the B in front of him, R’wign turned and gestured to his companion, letting him pick off where the ‘song’/story left off… at the letter ‘C.’

[Requiem]

Jump. Stare. The crowd was already laughing, whether at R'wign's actions or Dmitri's startled response, it was impossible to tell. Most likely both. Well, he couldn't very well take it back, so he didn't bother to hide the incredulity as the healer continued enthusiastically, though he did wonder if the other man wasn't heat-touched. That line of thought only solidified as R'wign took his hands, Dmitri sliding back and making a show of trying to extract himself from the healer's grip. He didn't have to pretend the stumbling, though, caught off-guard as R'wign tugged them around in a circle fast enough that he lost his hat, which apparently was also uproariously funny to the gathered crowd.

One thing he could say for R'wign, the healer knew how to put on a show. Even if it was definitely on the mildly demented side.

Tugging the material loose around his face, it made his expression clear to the people near the front of the audience, an expression of clear questioning. Disbelief. Then annoyance. Internally, Dmitri was merely bemused. What was the healer doing? Singing nonsense wasn't much of a story...sure, it was a song within a story, but it was unlikely to really keep the interest of anyone who wasn't a weyrbrat. Or maybe he was imprinting there, since he'd never had much patience for what he termed to be nonsensical lyrics. Hum.

"Laeran..." he whined, drawing the name out. He wrinkled his nose. Stomping half-heartedly, he clapped a couple of times, quite out of time, then suddenly threw his hands up in the air out of frustration. Apparently Laeran wasn't as good at this sort of game as Etchi. Hm. "Cuh is for can't, couldn't, make up these crazy concoctions." His hand traced through the air loosely in a gesture that resembled the letter but clearly wasn't meant too. A wave of dismissal. "Duh...don't want to, do we have to? Distressing, not doable." Another broad gesture, another letter written in agitation.

"Entirely erroneous. Fundamentally fantastic and figuratively fatal. Find someone else!" His words had picked up speed, a rhythm beneath them as he gestured at 'Laeran,' in what looked most undoubtedly like protest. And did he hop just a little to express that excitement? Yes, it appeared he did, Dementia grumbling something inarticulate and squirming up one of his braids high enough that she wasn't being swung around all over the place.

[glamourie]

One of the most entertaining things about being spontaneous was the reactions he got… and R’wign did virtually everything for reactions. From pink hair to skirts in public and facepaint, it was not at all unusual for him to be exaggeratedly silly. He sought laughter and amusement and the audience did not disappoint. Their reaction, however, paled significantly in comparison to the startled and quite ruffled response of his partner, who reminded him very much of an irritated rooster presented with a room full of other roosters and absolutely no hens. Feathers ruffled and offended. If he hadn’t been on stage attempting (however bizarrely) to win a contest, it was highly likely R’wign would’ve tried to provoke further responses out of Dmitri just to see how far he could push his luck. He loved to poke sleeping dragons in the nose just to see what they would do (metaphorically speaking, although he had done it to Check and Behruth both on numerous occasions – pest) and the harper was nowhere near as dangerous. Must poke. Must poke repeatedly.

No antagonizing his partner. R’wign raised his eyebrows as Dmitri responded and quickly put on an appropriately chastised expression – as if he’d been slapped. He bowed his head and rocked on the balls of his feet. If someone who didn’t know him were to look, he’d actually look properly hurt, like a wounded animal. As it was, it was a very dramatic act meant to inspire sympathy. R’wign bounced twice and as Dmitri finished speaking, he took to literally circling the harper again – bouncing the entire time. Bucket of cheer was Laeren… apparently.

“Golly gee gosh, give it a chance! Grumpy gus!” the healer proclaimed in this ‘Laeren’ voice which was really more like an exaggeratedly cheerful version of his own manner of speaking. “The best part of games is trying, Etchi, don’tcha know? Don’t you want to play with me? Why are you always so grouchy? Gee is for grumpy, grouchy, grumbling Etchi!” R’wign flailed his arms around (a casual viewer might have noticed that he was also shaping the letter G). “He never has any hope of having any kind of fun. Because he’s a hot-headed huffy, horrible humbug. Poor Etchi, poor Etchi, Laeran will help you. I’ll teach you all about why you should smile because happiness – happiness is the most important thing of all for the ‘Hah’ sound!” He wagged his finger scoldingly before draping himself over Dmitri intentionally, arms wound around the boy’s shoulders. Deliberately teasing/taunting. No one ever said R’wign wasn’t good at… annoying people. It was probably his single greatest skill. “I’ll teach you, Etchi, Etchi. It’s all about inventing intriguingly intricate phrases. They’ve gotta be imaginative and innovative, it’s gotta be illuminating to discuss, and that’s what the ‘I’ sound is for! Are you following still, or do you still need help, Etchi, Etchi?”

Literally bouncing, R’wign moved away from Dmitri… and actually threw himself into a half-cartwheel, half-somersault across the stage. He managed to avoid falling on his face (barely) but it wasn’t the most graceful of displays. It didn’t have to be. He rolled at the end and sprawled on the ground, legs stretched out in front of him, hands resting on the ground before he clicked his tongue playfully. “The neeext sound is that of the ‘Juh’ which is kinda special because it stands for jumping which I really like to see, and jam which is really quite yummy. But best of all, the juh sound stands for jafoobaloosh – which isn’t really a word but I like to say it because it sounds super fun. A sound like that should have an equally fun appearance so it has to have a tail that curls in and under itself. Jumping Jays with tails!”

Rolling over to sit on his knees, R’wign actually crawled across the stage. He came to sit next to Dmitri and tugged on his sleeve before pointing at the holders with a seemingly wide-eyed gaze. “The neeext sound is ‘kuh’ or ‘kay’ and that stands for kids – like them.” He indicated a group of weyrbrats at the end of the stage and leapt up to his feet. “And it also stands for kelp, which is really inconvenient and always seems to get stuck on sailor nets, for kettles that we use to heat up water for delicious tea and best of all, for keys – ‘cause they unlock things, and locks are really inconvenient. What do you think, I think that such an inventive sound needs to have a looot of bends and turns. Maybe a leg. Kinda like this,” he said before drawing a K in front of him. His head tilted up and he looked at Dmitri with a wry grin. “See, it’s fun Etchi. You try it, go on, go on. You’ll be fine~ Loosen up!”

[Requiem]

Dmitri folded his arms and glowered at 'Laeran,' playing it up because he wasn't the type to wander off simply because R'wign was not working with him. He'd tried his best to shift it a little so it was more interactive and less...silly nonsense spouting...but the healer was fighting him. That was fine. He could work with that, too. It just wouldn't be as good as the first story - ironically the only one he really liked a lot. You couldn't make a good story when the storytellers weren't cooperating with each other. Or so he believed. (Not that it had anything to do with his first partner being female and more than willing to exchange touches. He had to look her up later, yes...)

Oh tch. Throwing himself on him...Dmitri pantomimed a push, timing it to the stumbling somersault, then casually looked away and rocked onto his toes, scrunching his face into an exaggerated whistling expression. Guilty, him?

Crawling back to him...that produced an odd sort of wry grin that didn't quite fit Dmitri's portrayal of this 'Etchi,' but it faded nearly as quickly as it arose. He removed his arm from R'wign's grip, brushing at his sleeve and scrunching up his nose dramatically. "Ludicrous. You're lucky I like you, Laeran. Lily-livered. Tch. Lovely little lie. Lost your marbles. Think you're so marvelous, so magnificent, making up many mirthful mutterings. Nonsense! All nonsense, no sense, nothing but nutty niceties normally never uttered. Neither original nor obsolete. It overflows, an odd ocean of objects, of words, prattled together." And here he finally took a breath, his sweeping arm gestures reflecting the letters again as he 'scolded' his friend.

But Dmitri wasn't quite done just yet. Oh no. The rapid-fire alliteration completed, he began circling R'wign...stalking him, really. "Perhaps..." he drawled. "Perhaps you're just a prancing peacock, putting on a performance." He paused, then, looking to the audience and offering up a shrug, the words dry enough to suggest the dramatic irony he intended. "A pretty, puffed-up, pitiable person." Here he turned on a heel and made as if to stalk off, hoping his...partner or opponent, however you wished to view it...knew he was just playing the game and going with the story and didn't get offended.

[glamourie]

R’wign forced his eye to go wide as if in surprise and he flinched back away from ‘Etchi’ – almost as if he’d just been slapped across the face. Insulted, he was. He bowed his head and frowned, poking his fingers together, but letting Etchi finish. It was so hard not to blurt out interruptions, but the story would go nowhere if he acted on every impulse that struck him. He was already pushing it but then – R’wign was really about putting on a show more than telling the tale. He liked to be entertaining, after all. He just hoped he wasn’t making his partner too uncomfortable; he didn’t know the Harper at all and he didn’t seem to be getting quite as into it as Nautic was. Oh well. Not long before the story would be finished, if they were doing the alphabet, right? He clicked his tongue and shook his head before flinging himself up to his feet, arms spreading at his sides with his palms facing the harper, a decidedly upset (faked) look on his face.

“Quit being so mean!” There was a distinct whine in his voice that actually would’ve alerted anyone who knew R’wign to the fact that he was joking. While he did whine (frequently), it usually didn’t have such an obvious, high-pitched quality to it. “I can’t help it if I’m quirky! Quit judging. If you stopped being so stubborn, you’d know that quirks are a quality that everyone eventually comes to love. But nooo. You just keep being mean. And to that I say quit right now.” Each word that began with ‘Q’ was emphasized strongly, to make it clear what he was trying to accomplish. That was a difficult letter to alliterate, but he definitely was trying, did he get points for that? “Quizzically quirky qualities are quite special, Etchi. You’re just being boring.”

Throwing up his arms, R’wign spun on his toe and started stalking around the edge of the stage, speaking loud enough for the whole audience to hear him – and Dmitri would have to be careful to follow his movements if he didn’t want to lose track of what the healer was up to. “Relatively random rambunctiousness isn’t so bad, Etchi, you’ll see. Rather than rarely be ready for really boring relations, I like to keep myself open for ridiculousness – because ridiculousness shouldn’t be ridiculed, it should be appreciated, because it keeps away the bad things; it keeps away the rigid postures that you are so fond of. Just look at you! Right there, straight backed, practically got rigor!”

The healer whirled around and then stepped up to Dmitri, faking being highly upset as he pointed right at the other male, unabashedly ‘emotional.’ “So instead of being stupidly serious every second, maybe you should try silliness sometimes. Sometimes, your superficial, stubborn stiff-backed stature makes me just – ugghhh! Why are we even friends, Etchi? You’re so – so – boring.” And then, slyly, R’wign added to his tone another underlying challenge – suggestive. “I bet you couldn’t ever be anything more than tempestuously temperamental and tediously testy all the time. I bet you’re just not capable of taking off that seriousness and replacing it. You’re not even capable of trying to be terrific. Boring, boring, boring!”

[Requiem]

He allowed his expression to get more and more serious, crossing his arms and looking altogether peeved at his partner for chastizing him so rigorously. In truth, it was all Dmitri could do not to smile. There it was, a conversation of sorts. An actual story - or at least something more reminiscent of one. Yes, this he could get into.

"Truly?" he hissed at his 'friend.' "Then these tiresome utterances are terrific to you? How totally tragic. It's a testament to my tenacity that I'm still around." He took a step forward, looking as if he might well come unglued at any moment. Advancing on the healer with his arms spreading wide in a broad gesture of angry defiance. Or some such thing.

"I usually understand you, but today you're simply unbalanced. What is this hate, come unbidden? It's untimely. Uncouth. Unbecoming!" A pause, and here his hands fell, shoulders slumping as if some great weight had settled there...or Laeren's words had wounded him. "I'm unwilling to leave it unsaid. You make me uneasy. Unreasonably so. Have you unfriendly ulterior motives? Do you seek an excuse to undo our friendship?"

Stepping around 'Laeren,' he move toward the edge of the stage, ringing his hands. "Villainy, I tell you. Villainy! This is some virulous vendetta. I feel violated, vivisected in a variety of ways." He half-turned, glancing back at the other man. "Why so vicious? Why speak such violent verbiage? I value your versatility, your often vexing vivacity. Is our friendship in vain?"

[glamourie]

“Very much so if you’re just going to keep being mean!” was the response R’wign blurted out, still sitting on the ground on his knees like a scolded child. He kept his face wavered into a sad expression, even though it was really hard not to laugh and, you know, push the harper off the edge of the stage with one finger (he looked about as intimidating as a stick). Completing the look of a very upset… whatever he was pretending to be, R’wign threw his hands over his face and fake-sobbed before flinging himself to his feet. “You don’t have to be so mean, Etchi! Why, when we’re together must you be wicked? What would we wish for if not these whimsies you seem to scoff so at? What is so wrong with wonder, with wishing and whatnot? You scoff so completely at all things fun. Where has my Etchi gone? I don’t remember you being so mean all the time. Worthless is this attempt at wit. We exemplify all that is wonderful and you – you – OH!” Stomping his foot, R’wign twirled away and moved as though to walk away from Etchi. “Why should I waste my time? Worthless, worthless. Etchi’s sense of whimsy has disappeared forever. What shame, what sorrow!”

He didn’t know how to do a bunch of alliteration for X. That was problematic, since if he left X, Y and Z all to the Harper, then things would be unbalanced. R’wign settled for using a couple that he knew and… using them incorrectly. If his partner was true to form he’d use Ys and Zs to mock that, maybe be able to wrap the ‘story’ up with it – somehow. R’wign really didn’t know and didn’t much care, either. “Your xanthic belly is showing, you wherryheaded xenophobe. Your xeric heart makes mine still in sympathy! New ideas, they terrify, your extremeness is unbecoming. Why are we friends? You don’t like me, you don’t respect me, you don’t even like to have fun. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. All I wanted was to have fun. Just a little fun. We do so much, so serious, all the time. How can you be so cruel? I – I – You’re not fun to be around anymore, Etchi. Not fun at all!”

Throwing himself away from his partner, R’wign literally ran to the other end of the stage and flopped down onto his hands and knees. This put him near the far side of the audience, previously ignored for the front group. Those who were there would be able to see that he was trying very hard not to grin (and why not? He was having fun – aside from alliterating a letter that rarely was used in vocabulary). He threw his hands over his face and let his shoulders shake in a mock sob, pretending to be crying so as to generate sympathy. He was, in fact, laughing but the sound was stifled enough by his hands that it could be either or. His laughter and the half-glance he offered Dmitri was the only indication that he was switching off the turn. Was his turn unhelpful? If it was, not his problem. He’d had to alliterate X. Nooo sympathy there.

[Requiem]

Spurned. He flinched back slightly, expression closing off again and watching as R'wign crawled toward the other end of the stage. Time to bring this thing home if he could. The last two letters weren't particularly easy though, especially 'z'. Oh well, work with what you got. "Yes, well, sorry I'm such a yawn." Poor Etchi apparently didn't take a rejected half-apology well, because he started stomping the other direction. Suddenly he pulled up and whirled back, poking a finger at Laeran. "I won't yield to your youthful yammering, your yuck. You yaff at me like a little yapdog. I yearn for your forgiveness, and you..." Here he broke off again, shaking himself out as if to throw off the anger at his friend.

"You know I'm not zany, Laeran. You win. You're the zaniest. My zeal is zapped, my zest at zero. You've got zillions of wondrous sounds, and I've got zilch. I'll never match your zing." He scuffed his foot along the ground, ringing his hands in front of him and letting his hair fall to obscure his face a bit, making his tone sound meek and lost. "On things like this, you always zoom ahead. I envy you your zip. Let's please just do something else?" He ended the last word on a slight whine.

Turning to the crowd, then, he doffed his hat and held it in front of him almost demurely. "And thus, in the midst of an argument, the two sniping friends created the alphabet we know today. Just in case you're wondering, Laeran did forgive Etchi, and the two of them remained friends forever. It just goes to show you that even when you're upset, even when things don't always go the way you planned or want them to, you can still do wondrous things, just like Laeran said. Without them, no one could read, no one could write, and everything would be forgotten, yes? So just remember that sometimes when it feels like you're struggling, you're really just making an alphabet." He winked, twirled his hat and placed it back upon his head with a flourish. "Come on, Laeran. We have to leave before the tides roll in."

No clue what that was supposed to mean, but he'd let the audience speculate, too. It amused him.