Most of the time.
Wednesday, 4 July 2012 22:47![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouLearn to slow down.
4 July, 2012
The moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (94% full).
Flint is seated at the dining room table, with several 18x20" drawings and a portfolio on the table, though the portfolio and drawings both seem to have suffered from claws recently. The young galliard sighs, picking up the finished pencil drawing of jagged and broken abstract circuitry to hold it up to the light, even though there's a place where the paper is punctured and torn through.
"You, ah… have a problem, there," Rina says quietly as she comes in.
Flint looks at the pencil drawing once more, and sets it down on top of several blank pages and one other drawing, all with the same place torn through. "Yeah," he says, glancing over to Rina and smiling, slightly. "I. I know."
"Stab your sketchbook?" she guesses, heading for the kitchen with a couple of six-packs of beer.
Flint shakes his head. "Devon," he explains. "This morning." The pile of papers is neatened, and the portfolio is considered. The sketches are salvageable, but the folder is ruined. "Think I. I think. I. stepped on." Flint pulls in a breath, clearly struggling to say what he means to say.
Rina's brow furrows as she turns and looks over her shoulder. "Did you frenzy?"
Flint shakes his head, once more, and offers a tiny smile. "No. Neither did Devon, but. Only because I. I left. But. We fought, a little. He…" Real and true worry colours the young galliard's words, now. "He's seeing things that. That aren't there. The. The monsters, he says. I." Flint sighs, standing up and picking up the rather ruined folder to carry it to the recycling.
Rina takes a slow breath, and nods. "Yeah," she murmurs, turning back to the fridge to putt the beer away. "I'm worried somethin' got into his head."
Kavi comes down the hall, stopping just inside the doorway of the breakroom. "Hey," he says. His voice is soft, but the tension of the moon, and the last few days, is still present.
Flint nods, looking down at the folder for a moment even after he's let go. "I. And then. And, he kept saying, he's not crazy. But. Something is. Is— wrong. Very not-right." Flint glances to the door as Kavi enters, nods and then waves a little. "Hi Kavi-rhya." The young galliard looks back to Rina, continues. "And. When I said, when. That. It wasn't real, not there. That. You, me, Nieve-rhya. Don't see, he snapped about. That. I." Flint sighs, doesn't finish his sentence. The tension of the moon is reflected in the tight angles and tense movements as Flint walks back to the table, picks up the top drawing again. "Damnit," he mutters, staring at the hole through it.
Rina closes the fridge door, and looks over to Kavi with a quiet, worried half-smile. "Hey," she says quietly, heading for Flint.
Kavi's brow furrows as he looks between the two. There's a slight movement, a slight push away from the wall, but when Rina heads toward Flint, the older galliard stays put.
Flint looks at the drawing, then to Rina. The tear, at least, with the content of abstract circuitry as it is, almost adds to the drawing's feeling. Unlike the one that's now exposed on the table, a more technical drawing of the Golden Gate Bridge. "I. I liked this one," Flint says, quietly.
Rina tugs at Flint's arm, and pulls him into a hug.
Kavi's lips part, and then close again, and he turns his gaze aside.
Flint lets the drawing flutter back to the table, and hugs back, tightly for a long moment, though he remains seated, and then after a few deep breaths, the teen lets go and pulls away, a little. "Thanks m— Rina," he says, quietly.
Rina puts a hand on the boy's shoulder, and looks at him, something strong and firm in the dark eyes. "It gets better." Her Chicago accent takes off the final r: betta.
Kavi nods, perhaps to himself, and pushes off from the doorway to head to the fridge. "Water?" he asks over his shoulder. "Or. I could make tea?"
Flint breathes steadily, breath evening out a little more when Rina sets her hand on his shoulder. In, out, and a little of the tension that knots his shoulders dissipates. "Tea, maybe? Please, Kavi-rhya?" Flint asks. "Devon yelled at me, too, earlier," the young galliard says. "A-about. Words. And. And about that he. Thinks." This is apparently the end of the train of thought for a moment, and Flint looks up at Rina, then straightens the pile of papers, the circuitry drawing and the blank pages, the other drawing set aside, folded a few times to discard it.
"We gotta figure out what's got into Devon's head," Rina translates, going to the kitchen to join Kavi. She steps up behind him to slide both arms around his waist, leaning against his back for the space of a long, calming breath.
Kavi nods to Flint and starts filling the kettle. He lets out a breath, a distinct sigh, as Rina's arms come around him. More quickly, then, he sets the kettle down to heat and he reaches to cover her hands with his own. "Thank you," he whispers.
Flint looks over towards Kavi and Rina, and there's a hint of a smile on the young cliath's face, and then he smooths out the torn part of the drawing, slowly, carefully. He lets them have a long moment, before he speaks up. Well, a good one step in volume above his usual, so that it'll actually carry to the kitchen. "Whatever. Whatever Devon is. Is seeing? It's real to him. And." He sighs.
Rina releases the Galliard, and gets down the cups. The two of them move around each other in the small space of the kitchen, a domestic dance that's almost choreographed.
Kavi looks over to Flint as they work, and though his brow furrows, his only answer is a troubled nod.
Flint folds his hands on the table, and shuts his eyes partially. "But. Devon made. A thing, of the words thing, too. Beside, insisting, he's not crazy. He. Said, I seem more. I. More crazy than him," the cliath says, frowning. "Because, words. Because I hear my ancestors. Because everything, galliard who can't even. Sentences. Like Ex said, sentences." There's less anger in it, now, than there was right after either event.
Rina sets out the mugs and turns to lean her backside against the counter. She watches him, concern in her eyes.
Kavi's teeth catch at his lower lip, and he nods again before turning away. He takes the few steps to where Rina stands, and his hand reaches for hers. He swallows as he looks to her, and then looks to the kettle, not yet at a boil.
Flint leans on the dining table, elbows on the table and hands folded to rest his chin on them, such that he'd be looking towards Kavi and Rina if not for that he's looking down a little, eyes squinted shut again. "I try to make it so that," and he takes a breath. There's effort, clearly, into what Flint's saying, words deliberate and slowly said, "people understand what I am… trying to say. But I also, sometimes just want to say things but my mind goes… faster? And when people make… fun of me, for it. It hurts, a lot. Before—" and Flint finally looks up. "I just sometimes didn't talk, and I read or did other things and didn't—people. Because no one saw past it."
Rina nods, just listening.
Kavi keeps hold of Rina's hand, and his fingers close a bit tighter as he turns to face Flint across the kitchen. "I understand," he says, and for a long moment, that's all that he says. His gaze dips downward, and he pulls Rina's hand to where he can hold it with both of his. "You… It can get better. It's not easy, but. You can get to where… it's better. Both the words you say and. And how the words you hear touch you."
"Trust him," Rina says dryly. "He knows. He couldn't put a sentence together to save his life, when we first met."
Flint takes a deep breath, that catches halfway, and he looks at Kavi. Silence fills the moment, and then Flint nods. "And if—" Flint looks to Rina as she speaks, and then back to Kavi, and smiles, fractionally, nodding once more. "It. Yeah. Everything in my head goes… goes so fast. So much. Everything I've. I've ever read. Or things, people said. And. And my ancestors sometimes. And everything, and. It feels like…" the cliath lets the words trail off, and shrugs. "It's easier to. To say nothing, most of. The time."
Kavi's hand close tighter around Rina's for a moment, and then he lifts it to his lips, touching a soft kiss there. He nods again to Flint and frowns. "Not now? But. Maybe when the moon is small? We can—" He breaks off to glance again to Rina. "We can work on breathing, and. And how to slow down. How to wait until you're ready and slow everything down." He shakes his head, a dismissal or denial. "I'm not… fluid. Except when I sing. It doesn't go away, but. You can get better."
Flint nods, and does a pretty good job of hiding the most of the 'la la la' facial expression for the moment when Kavi kisses Rina's hand. "Small moon, yeah," he says, softly agreeing on that point. "I… I'd would. That. If, yeah. And. If I sing? It's okay-more-okay-er. Because it's things that aren't. It's not the same. The lyrics, the words are there already."
Kavi nods again. After another moment, he releases Rina's hand, allowing her to prepare the tea. The galliard watches for a moment, and then moves to the table, sitting with his empty mug in front of him. "Singing is easy, because all the words are already there. It's… something you can learn to do when you're talking, too." He looks down into the empty mug and turns it in a small circle. "But. We can talk more about that… later."
"T-thank you, Kavi-rhya," Flint says, glancing over for both Rina and Kavi, then. "I. The hole in it. 's… not so bad?" he says, turning it so that the elder galliard can see the drawing. "Plus I. Stepped on the. Folder. In crinos, but I. I didn't Frenzy on Dev or. Or anything. So, that's. Good, right?"
Rina comes to pour the tea, and her hand slides around Kavi's shoulders. He nods, and offers a tense smile to the younger galliard. "It's good," he agrees in that quiet voice that isn't quite soft. He looks up to Rina and then back to his mug, lifting it to his lips to blow across the steaming surface.
Flint takes his own mug of tea when it's set in front of him, wrapping both hands around the cup. There's a release of tension, visible, in the cliath's posture and manner at Kavi's nod, and words. Not relaxed, but as much as he can be for the moment, and then Flint sets aside the drawing to pick up his tea. "Thanks," he repeats, quietly.
4 July, 2012
The moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (94% full).
Flint is seated at the dining room table, with several 18x20" drawings and a portfolio on the table, though the portfolio and drawings both seem to have suffered from claws recently. The young galliard sighs, picking up the finished pencil drawing of jagged and broken abstract circuitry to hold it up to the light, even though there's a place where the paper is punctured and torn through.
"You, ah… have a problem, there," Rina says quietly as she comes in.
Flint looks at the pencil drawing once more, and sets it down on top of several blank pages and one other drawing, all with the same place torn through. "Yeah," he says, glancing over to Rina and smiling, slightly. "I. I know."
"Stab your sketchbook?" she guesses, heading for the kitchen with a couple of six-packs of beer.
Flint shakes his head. "Devon," he explains. "This morning." The pile of papers is neatened, and the portfolio is considered. The sketches are salvageable, but the folder is ruined. "Think I. I think. I. stepped on." Flint pulls in a breath, clearly struggling to say what he means to say.
Rina's brow furrows as she turns and looks over her shoulder. "Did you frenzy?"
Flint shakes his head, once more, and offers a tiny smile. "No. Neither did Devon, but. Only because I. I left. But. We fought, a little. He…" Real and true worry colours the young galliard's words, now. "He's seeing things that. That aren't there. The. The monsters, he says. I." Flint sighs, standing up and picking up the rather ruined folder to carry it to the recycling.
Rina takes a slow breath, and nods. "Yeah," she murmurs, turning back to the fridge to putt the beer away. "I'm worried somethin' got into his head."
Kavi comes down the hall, stopping just inside the doorway of the breakroom. "Hey," he says. His voice is soft, but the tension of the moon, and the last few days, is still present.
Flint nods, looking down at the folder for a moment even after he's let go. "I. And then. And, he kept saying, he's not crazy. But. Something is. Is— wrong. Very not-right." Flint glances to the door as Kavi enters, nods and then waves a little. "Hi Kavi-rhya." The young galliard looks back to Rina, continues. "And. When I said, when. That. It wasn't real, not there. That. You, me, Nieve-rhya. Don't see, he snapped about. That. I." Flint sighs, doesn't finish his sentence. The tension of the moon is reflected in the tight angles and tense movements as Flint walks back to the table, picks up the top drawing again. "Damnit," he mutters, staring at the hole through it.
Rina closes the fridge door, and looks over to Kavi with a quiet, worried half-smile. "Hey," she says quietly, heading for Flint.
Kavi's brow furrows as he looks between the two. There's a slight movement, a slight push away from the wall, but when Rina heads toward Flint, the older galliard stays put.
Flint looks at the drawing, then to Rina. The tear, at least, with the content of abstract circuitry as it is, almost adds to the drawing's feeling. Unlike the one that's now exposed on the table, a more technical drawing of the Golden Gate Bridge. "I. I liked this one," Flint says, quietly.
Rina tugs at Flint's arm, and pulls him into a hug.
Kavi's lips part, and then close again, and he turns his gaze aside.
Flint lets the drawing flutter back to the table, and hugs back, tightly for a long moment, though he remains seated, and then after a few deep breaths, the teen lets go and pulls away, a little. "Thanks m— Rina," he says, quietly.
Rina puts a hand on the boy's shoulder, and looks at him, something strong and firm in the dark eyes. "It gets better." Her Chicago accent takes off the final r: betta.
Kavi nods, perhaps to himself, and pushes off from the doorway to head to the fridge. "Water?" he asks over his shoulder. "Or. I could make tea?"
Flint breathes steadily, breath evening out a little more when Rina sets her hand on his shoulder. In, out, and a little of the tension that knots his shoulders dissipates. "Tea, maybe? Please, Kavi-rhya?" Flint asks. "Devon yelled at me, too, earlier," the young galliard says. "A-about. Words. And. And about that he. Thinks." This is apparently the end of the train of thought for a moment, and Flint looks up at Rina, then straightens the pile of papers, the circuitry drawing and the blank pages, the other drawing set aside, folded a few times to discard it.
"We gotta figure out what's got into Devon's head," Rina translates, going to the kitchen to join Kavi. She steps up behind him to slide both arms around his waist, leaning against his back for the space of a long, calming breath.
Kavi nods to Flint and starts filling the kettle. He lets out a breath, a distinct sigh, as Rina's arms come around him. More quickly, then, he sets the kettle down to heat and he reaches to cover her hands with his own. "Thank you," he whispers.
Flint looks over towards Kavi and Rina, and there's a hint of a smile on the young cliath's face, and then he smooths out the torn part of the drawing, slowly, carefully. He lets them have a long moment, before he speaks up. Well, a good one step in volume above his usual, so that it'll actually carry to the kitchen. "Whatever. Whatever Devon is. Is seeing? It's real to him. And." He sighs.
Rina releases the Galliard, and gets down the cups. The two of them move around each other in the small space of the kitchen, a domestic dance that's almost choreographed.
Kavi looks over to Flint as they work, and though his brow furrows, his only answer is a troubled nod.
Flint folds his hands on the table, and shuts his eyes partially. "But. Devon made. A thing, of the words thing, too. Beside, insisting, he's not crazy. He. Said, I seem more. I. More crazy than him," the cliath says, frowning. "Because, words. Because I hear my ancestors. Because everything, galliard who can't even. Sentences. Like Ex said, sentences." There's less anger in it, now, than there was right after either event.
Rina sets out the mugs and turns to lean her backside against the counter. She watches him, concern in her eyes.
Kavi's teeth catch at his lower lip, and he nods again before turning away. He takes the few steps to where Rina stands, and his hand reaches for hers. He swallows as he looks to her, and then looks to the kettle, not yet at a boil.
Flint leans on the dining table, elbows on the table and hands folded to rest his chin on them, such that he'd be looking towards Kavi and Rina if not for that he's looking down a little, eyes squinted shut again. "I try to make it so that," and he takes a breath. There's effort, clearly, into what Flint's saying, words deliberate and slowly said, "people understand what I am… trying to say. But I also, sometimes just want to say things but my mind goes… faster? And when people make… fun of me, for it. It hurts, a lot. Before—" and Flint finally looks up. "I just sometimes didn't talk, and I read or did other things and didn't—people. Because no one saw past it."
Rina nods, just listening.
Kavi keeps hold of Rina's hand, and his fingers close a bit tighter as he turns to face Flint across the kitchen. "I understand," he says, and for a long moment, that's all that he says. His gaze dips downward, and he pulls Rina's hand to where he can hold it with both of his. "You… It can get better. It's not easy, but. You can get to where… it's better. Both the words you say and. And how the words you hear touch you."
"Trust him," Rina says dryly. "He knows. He couldn't put a sentence together to save his life, when we first met."
Flint takes a deep breath, that catches halfway, and he looks at Kavi. Silence fills the moment, and then Flint nods. "And if—" Flint looks to Rina as she speaks, and then back to Kavi, and smiles, fractionally, nodding once more. "It. Yeah. Everything in my head goes… goes so fast. So much. Everything I've. I've ever read. Or things, people said. And. And my ancestors sometimes. And everything, and. It feels like…" the cliath lets the words trail off, and shrugs. "It's easier to. To say nothing, most of. The time."
Kavi's hand close tighter around Rina's for a moment, and then he lifts it to his lips, touching a soft kiss there. He nods again to Flint and frowns. "Not now? But. Maybe when the moon is small? We can—" He breaks off to glance again to Rina. "We can work on breathing, and. And how to slow down. How to wait until you're ready and slow everything down." He shakes his head, a dismissal or denial. "I'm not… fluid. Except when I sing. It doesn't go away, but. You can get better."
Flint nods, and does a pretty good job of hiding the most of the 'la la la' facial expression for the moment when Kavi kisses Rina's hand. "Small moon, yeah," he says, softly agreeing on that point. "I… I'd would. That. If, yeah. And. If I sing? It's okay-more-okay-er. Because it's things that aren't. It's not the same. The lyrics, the words are there already."
Kavi nods again. After another moment, he releases Rina's hand, allowing her to prepare the tea. The galliard watches for a moment, and then moves to the table, sitting with his empty mug in front of him. "Singing is easy, because all the words are already there. It's… something you can learn to do when you're talking, too." He looks down into the empty mug and turns it in a small circle. "But. We can talk more about that… later."
"T-thank you, Kavi-rhya," Flint says, glancing over for both Rina and Kavi, then. "I. The hole in it. 's… not so bad?" he says, turning it so that the elder galliard can see the drawing. "Plus I. Stepped on the. Folder. In crinos, but I. I didn't Frenzy on Dev or. Or anything. So, that's. Good, right?"
Rina comes to pour the tea, and her hand slides around Kavi's shoulders. He nods, and offers a tense smile to the younger galliard. "It's good," he agrees in that quiet voice that isn't quite soft. He looks up to Rina and then back to his mug, lifting it to his lips to blow across the steaming surface.
Flint takes his own mug of tea when it's set in front of him, wrapping both hands around the cup. There's a release of tension, visible, in the cliath's posture and manner at Kavi's nod, and words. Not relaxed, but as much as he can be for the moment, and then Flint sets aside the drawing to pick up his tea. "Thanks," he repeats, quietly.