(2016-11-20) The Library of Alexander
The Library of Alexander
Summary: A meeting of minds in the school library.
Date: 2016-11-20
Related: None
NPCs: {$npc}
Scene Runner: NA

     Several books are lying about on one study table.  One student sits in a chair turned around backwards, poring over them, a pen in his right hand, occasionally making slow, careful marks on a sheet of paper.  Why is he sitting in the chair backwards?  Probably the wings.  They wouldn't clear the back of it.
     For that matter, Taká himself barely clears the back of it — he's not little in the sense of hasn't started growing yet, he's little in the sense of just not being very large despite being very nearly fully grown.
     As for those wings, they flex very gently, very slowly, reflecting his current state of deep concentration on his project.

     There's a soft sound, which makes all the more difference because it's a library!  There's supposed to be QUIET!  But this is a quiet sound, not loud enough to bother anybody at all.  There around one of the bookshelves nearby, is the sound of a student humming a slow song.  It probably wouldn't be recognized for what it is — it's 'Shima Uta', a well-known song in Okinawa, Japan.  Apparently the unseen student isn't aware of Taká being there at all.
     That is, until the student rounds the bookshelf with open book in hand and sees the chair and table and stops mid-note.  It's a boy, about average height for an American boy his apparent age.  Scruffy brown hair, yellow-gold eyes, and a dark skin tone.  He's wearing a Prometheus-colored uniform, though the tie's a bit messy.
     He looks at Taká.  Blinks.  He's clearly looking at the wings.  Though to be fair, those ARE one of the most noticeable features about Taká.  The brown-haired kid doesn't say anything for a long moment, and then realizes he's been staring.  "Oh.  Uh.  Hi."  He offers an almost shy wave, and half-smiles a bit awkwardly.

     Before anything else moves, Taká lifts his pen from the paper.  Then and only then does he look up.  He waves a three-fingered hand and smiles shyly.  "Hello."  It's said softly — this is a library, after all — but with a strange, almost musical lilt.  "I think I have not met you yet?  I am Taká."  The accent is clearly on the second syllable.

     Alexander looks at the waving hand.  The whole 'missing a finger' thing is noted, and he looks at that hand intently for a moment.  Then realizes AGAIN that he's staring, and sheepishly turns his eyes back to Taká's face.  The introduction gets that half-smile again, and Alexander shakes his head.  "Nah, I'm… pretty sure I'd recognize you if I'd met you before."  Is there a Massachusetts accent that isn't Bostonian?  This kid talks like that.  The name offered gets a nod.  "I'm Alexander," he offers in return.

     "Al-ek-san-drr," Taká repeats, trying to get it right, with a faint trill on the terminal 'r'.  Whatever his accent is, it's not Bostonian, or Massachusettsan, or New England anything… nor does it sound like any other foreign accent.  But for the wings and hands, he looks like he could be Native American, but he sure doesn't sound like it either.  "Do I have it right?"  Well, wherever he's from, at least he sounds friendly.

     Alexander does that half-smile again at the question.  "Close enough," he replies.  He also decides to spare the poor guy his last name; that accent doesn't sound like anything he's ever heard before.  He walks to the table and sits down to Taká's side.  Surprisingly, despite his seeming awkwardness, he doesn't seem to have any qualms about inviting himself to sit near the birdman.  But he doesn't sit too terribly close, and not on the same side.

     Taká caps his pen and slides his papers aside, and tries to make some organization of the books he has out.  They seem to be English books, and for students well before high school age: one is on standard D'Nealian handwriting, aimed at primary school students.  A second glance might reveal, however that there is also at least one on Spencerian, a complicated script style.
     "I am glad you interrupted me," he says casually.  "I forget the time when I am practicing."  He glances at the wall clock, frowns, and shrugs with a soft rustle of feathers.  "Well, I've been here a while."

     For Alexander's part?  The book he's placed in front of him doesn't seem to be one of the library's.  There's no label on it, no organizational stickers, no 'Property of' stamps.  Perhaps it's one of his own?  The title written on the spine reveals it to be… a supernatural book of some kind.  Not one of those fictional 'scary stories to make you scared to sleep at night'.  This is a legitimate, scientific study of paranormal phenomena.  The nerly three-line title reads much like a science book.
     The non-winged student nods at the words of having spent a long time here.  "I do that too.  I've been known to go through several books before realizing how long I've been at it."  Pause.  "Wait, what time is it?"  He looks at the clock, and his eyes widen.  "…Whoa.  Didn't realize I'd been in here that long, either."

     Taká chuckles.  "Well, when you are studying a thing you enjoy, it is easy for time to slip away."  Speaking of enjoyment, a he slips a sheet under his pen and just draws tight little loops, automatically, without paying any conscious attention to it.  He holds the pen oddly, between the first and second fingers rather than between the thumb and forefinger.  But it seems to work well enough for him.  Then he notices what he's doing, and stops.  "Ai, apology.  I find that quite relaxing, though."

     Alexander nods in agreement.  "Yeah, that's for sure.  Though…"  He leans over stage-whispering to Taká, "Don't tell anybody I'm such a nerd.  I'd lose my metal cred if too many people found out."  Though as he leans back again, he's grinning.
     As for the doodling?  Alexander actually notices it, and watches.  Because it's really interesting to see how the pen's being held, let alone the looping patterns being drawn.  So he watches for a bit.  The apology gets a smile.  "Hey, don't worry about it," he replies, shaking his head.  "Whatever floats your boat, right?"
     Though… for noticing things, there's something Taká might have noticed.  While Alexander had been watching Taká, there had been no rise and fall of his shoulders to indicate breathing.  Taká may or may not be able to detect any of this, but… he's not breathing.  His heart isn't beating.  And his skin is about the same temperature as the room around him…

     "My boat?  I do not have one," Taká says, apparently serious.  "If I need to get to the shore, I can just fly there."

     This makes Alexander blink at the apparently very little birdman.  "Uh… no, that was… just a figure of speech," he explains, suddenly feeling a little awkward again.  "You know… 'whatever floats your boat'?  'Whatever tickles your fancy'?  'Whatever butters your biscuit'?  That sort of thing?"  Pause.  "Just uh… 'whatever makes you happy'."

     "Ai!" Taká exclaims, enlightened.  "Apology.  I am still learning your language.  We would say… ai.  How would that translate best?  'Go with a fair wind'.  Yes, I think that is correct.  Rhái'tan takát."  He scribbles a strange but graceful set of short and long vertical and horizontal lines as he speaks, and glances over it, his mouth tightening in thought.  "Well, it is close enough to correct," he finally says with another shrug.

     Alexander smirks.  "My father would say chacun son truc."  His French is pretty good, considering he grew up with one French-speaking parent and one English-speaking parent.  "Though that's closer to 'to each his own' and some might say that it's a little dismissive.  There's more dismissive ways to say it though.  Si ça te chante means 'if you feel like it'.  It's like saying you don't agree but if the other person wants, that's okay with you."

     Taká blinks twice.  "What world is that language… oh.  Yes."  He reaches into the stack of books to his left and deftly pulls out the third one down.  "Yes, I remember seeing a list.  So many languages, so many different ways to write, all in one place."  He flicks a couple pages in.  "So pretty and flowing.  What is that one called?"

     "That's French," Alexander replies.  "My father was from France.  He speaks English, but he was pretty adamant about me learning a second language.  He knew I'd learn one in high school, but he figured if I already knew two, I could learn a third."  He chuckles.

     "Two is enough for me," Taká says, writing down 'French' on a slip of paper, followed by more of those vertical and horizontal marks.  "And that is one more than I ever knew existed.  And there are thousands here."  He looks up sharply, but sympathetically.  "How do you possibly understand each other?"

     "We don't," Alexander replies, with a lopsided smirk.  "Or we learn a language the other person can understand.  I've been picking at the Japanese language.  That's an incredibly hard language to learn.  Well, for me anyway.  Phonetic versus non-phonetic languages — making that jump is pretty hard, whichever side of it you're standing on."

     "Japanese," Taká says, and flicks through that book again.  "c'Rhsy'yw.  Two syllable sets and thousands of pictograms."  he snaps the book shut with a grin.  "That one will wait."  He sets the book aside.  "And I thought I was taking a break from my study.  Hobby.  Both."

     "Don't forget the set they use for non-Japanese words," Alexander supplies.  There's a touch of a wry tone to his voice, indicating that he knows exactly the kind of troubles Taká's going to have with it.  He's also still got that lopsided smirk.  "To be perfectly honest, if you wanna be able to function in most of the major centers in the world?  English, Spanish, maybe French, and Mandarin Chinese will cover most anywhere you'd travel to as a tourist."  As for taking a break?  "We're learning all the time, right?" he snickers.

     "You still have to give your mind a chance to file it all and make sense of it," Taká says.  "Otherwise you just pile newer things on top of the new things you are learning and never give anything a chance to be old things that you actually know."

     Alexander thinks about that.  "Huh.  I didn't think there was a… I dunno, cooldown period for learning," he admits.  "I figured you could just dump it all in there, and be done with it."

     Taká smiles knowingly.  "Well, for me there is a period where I have to just let it settle."  He leans back, gripping the top of the seat back with both hands.  spreading his wings slightly, and flashing his friendliest smile.  "Would you be the first subject of a game I want to play with myself?  I want to see if I can determine what powers you are here to develop.  Just from our conversation."

     The movement of Taká's wings gets Alexander's attention, and he looks up and back at the wings again.  The corner of his mouth pulls up at the movement, in a small smile.  The wings are pretty!  Taká's question draws his attention back, though, and he blinks.  "Huh?"  Pause, registers the words.  "Oh, sure.  Learning how to 'read' the students?" he asks.  "Could be useful."

     "Learning how to read them the hard way," Taká says, a little more softly, rubbing his temple absently.  "Judging by your book, you are a scholar of some kind.  The words are not familiar, but it appears to be about the structure of the body."  As he speaks, his wings fold and unfold.
     He slumps forward over the back of the chair.  "You mentioned metal early on.  And spoke of your father.  Nnh."  As he thinks, his wings slowly spread — then he claps his hands and his wing point skyward.  Good thing the library has really high ceilings.  "I have it!  You are a human mind housed in a robot body!"  He peers closely.  "It is a remarkably lifelike job, may I say!"

     Alexander snickers a little bit.  "Nnnnnot quite," he replies.  "I can tell you one thing that'll probably reveal it, though."  He pats the book.  "This isn't biology of people.  This is spectral biology, if there is such a thing.  Spectral beings are made of energy, and energy and physical matter have a lot in common.  For spectral beings, that energy tends to fall into a 'range' and behave a certain way.  Like the biology of members of a specific race."  Pause.  "It's… basically ghost biology."

     Ever tilt a pinball machine?  That's kind of the look on Taká's face right now.  "Ghost?  I do not know that word…"  Well, it probably wouldn't have come up in basic English.  He grabs a dictionary and looks up the word.  Looks up at Alexander.  Looks back at the dictionary.  Looks up at Alexander again with a more baffled look on his face.  Looks back at the dictionary and spends a moment making sure he's looked it up correctly.  Looks back up at Alexander again with that 'Tilt!' expression again.  Repeat a couple more times for good measure.
     Finally, all he says is, "Oh?"

     Alexander can't help but laugh.  He does so quietly though, propping an elbow on the table and then leaning his mouth on his hand to muffle the sound.  Library, after all.  Ultimately he ends up muffling it to quiet snickers.  It takes him a moment to quiet down.  "Yeah.  Spiritual remnants of a dead person.  Spectral in this case."  Pause.  He looks up, to Taká's left, suddenly getting serious.  And then?  He POINTS!  STRONGLY!  In that direction.  "No.  Don't you dare.  Go bug Grayson or something."  He… doesn't seem to be speaking to Taká, oddly.  But if not… who's he talking to…?

     Taká whirls to his left, clearing a pen and several sheets of paper off the table with a wingtip.  Of course, he sees nothing, nor does he notice the damage to his notes.
     When he turns back, the look on his face is no longer 'Tilt!' It's more of a Blue Screen of Dea… well, you know.

     "Whoops…"  Alexander pauses to pick up the pen and the papers.  "It's okay.  He won't hurt you," he reassures, putting the swept-off things back on the table.  "There was an…. incident at a convention for reenactors of this planet's ancient history," he explains.  "Lotta people died.  I couldn't do anything for the living, but I was trying to help the dead move on.  I didn't have a lot of time though, because we didn't want to be there when the cops — uh, the authorities got there.  I gotta go back there, after the heat settles down, to see if I can move some more of them on.  In the meantime, though… one of them followed me home."  He says this with a very normal, calm tone, as if this is pretty normal for him.  Which… well, it kind of is.

     Taká turns back to his left, trying to see what he cannot, stretching his mind out — of course, he senses nothing, and probably Alexander is unaware of his 'sixth sense'.  Probably.  Taká isn't about to guess.
     "I… well, you are not Akiar.  Maybe your afterlife works differently," he says dubiously.  "We either move on to union with the Gods, or Cycle back to do better in another life."

     Alexander nods.  "That's basically what's supposed to happen to us," he replies.  "Energy leaves the body, goes back to wherever it comes from.  Sometimes people reject it though.  Generally happens with sudden or violent deaths.  The person just refuses to believe, or maybe accept, that they're gone.  Sometimes it's curiosity, like his case."  He upnods at that place where there is nothing.  "And some people are just so damn mean they want to stay around and hurt MORE people.  There's a lot of reasons.  A transformation takes place then, one that's not well-understood, and… boom.  Ghost."
     Suddenly, for no apparent reason… a book falls from a shelf behind Alexander.  He pauses, to look back at the basic area where the shelf is.  Alexander has a clear look of '…really, dude?' on his face, and he turns slowly.  He sighs, and then stands up to put the book back.  Again seeming to talk to nothing, he says, "Seriously.  Quit it.  He can't see you."  Pause.  "No.  I'm trying NOT to freak the poor guy out."

     Whether or not Alexander is trying, he's succeeding, Taká is definitely approaching 'freaked out', even if he wouldn't recognize the phrase.  "Carmichael mentioned… a… dead student?"  He can't quite bring himself to voice the necessary logical conclusion, but he does nod at Alexander, as if to ask if it's him.

     The question draws his attention back, and Alexander nods.  "Yeah.  That'd be me," he confirms as he sits back down in the chair he'd been sitting in.  "I'm a musician — 'metal' is a kind of music.  I was playing at a concert when lightning struck the electrical system."  Pause.  "It… didn't go well.  Particularly not because I was holding something electric, with electric things all around me, and all these electric things were connected to the electrical system that got hit."
     He shrugs.  "Didn't hurt all that much.  Not 'till I woke up, anyway.  That.  Now that?  SUCKED.  Seriously.  Zero out of ten, would not get zapped again."

     In the course of the researches on his meta, Taká has been zapped, repeatedly and with force.  And since it didn't hurt him — thank you, meta — this is also something he struggles to understand.  Finally, he forces out the obvious.  "But you are still… still moving.  How can you be d…"  He can't go there.  "…not alive?"

     Alexander raises his index finger to point up, the gesture one as if he were about to impart a great secret unto the world.  Instead?  "…I'm actually trying to figure that out," he states.  "See… even if I had died normally and just hadn't moved on, I ought to just be a spirit.  But I'm not.  I'm still in my body."  He spreads his hands before him, holding them palm-up.  "But my body's dead.  I only need breath to talk, my heart doesn't beat, and I keep the same temperature as wherever I'm at.  Don't have to eat, either."
     He brings his spread hands together then, in a fingersteepling at his mouth.  "The closest I can figure is, all the electricity started ionizing the air, and that wouldn't let my energy leave.  So, since it didn't have anywhere else to go, it went back into my body."

     That… actually seems to help, and Taká relaxes a little.  It makes a sort of sense.  "I would not have thought that electricity would impede one's ka, one's soul… but it is not something they tested when they were studying me."  A bit of his smile returns.  "But since you are moving around, you cannot be really dead?"

     The mention of electricity keeping the soul from leaving gets a headtilt.  "Yeah, that's what I'm trying to reason out," Alexander agrees.  "If the 'soul' is just a form of energy, then other forms of energy should, in theory, be able to interact with it some kind of way.  Maybe the ionization made plasma and that had some weird interaction with it."  Pause.  "Hmm.  That might actually explain a lot…"  The question of being dead gets a snicker as something occurs to him.  "I'm only 'merely dead', not 'really most sincerely dead'."  He shakes his head.  "Sorry… bad joke."  Getting serious now!  SERIOUS!  "Some might say 'zombie'," Alexander replies.  "I'm not rotting though.  Which I'm thankful for.  I'm still trying to figure out if my body can handle food or whether that would be a bad idea, whether I can still sleep, and all.  Just how much 'human' am I still, is what I'm trying to figure out.  Actually there's a lot I'm still trying to figure out."

     "Well, you look human and alive enough," Taká says.  "You are not a telepath so I don't know if you feel human or alive."  He chuckles.  "Not that I have much experience with human minds, but…."  He trails off, obviously involved in some fairly heavy thought.
     Then he comes back to the present, his eyes focusing sharply on Alexander.  "If I may have a few moments to prepare myself, may I touch your mind?  It may be instructive to both of us."

     Alexander shakes his head.  "No, but I've got some defense against telepaths.  Pretty mild, admittedly.  Not active, though."  He pauses, blinking a few times at the question.  "Sure."  He pauses then, to look to his right, with a flat look at nothing.  "Shaddap you," he says, just as flatly.  Again, not to Taká.  Sighs.  "Perv."  Then he turns his attention back to Taká.  "Sorry about that.  Sure.  Just let me know what I need to do."  He's had a telepath assist him in seeing a psychic duel, this shouldn't be that different.  Right?

     "Just relax and clear your mind," Taká says, his voice instinctively going low and soothing.  "I will need to do the same.  The mind touch works both ways."
     Taká closes his eyes, and his breathing becomes slower and more regular.  His wings, it may be noticed, cease their usual flexing and folding, and settle into a relaxed fold, loosely to his back.  "H'ki a'takh… apology.  My mind will not see deeper than surface thoughts, that which you are actually thinking.  Not without a clear and definite invitation to go deeper, and I do not ask that."
     After another couple deep breaths, his arm unfolds onto the table and his hand comes down palm up.  "When you are ready, take my hand."

     Meditation?  Alexander can do that.  His interest in the occult has given him that ability, at least.  He shifts in his chair a bit, to relax, and breathes slowly.  He might not need to physically, but it's a good activity to concentrate on, to clear his mind.  Briefly he hopes that that weird disconnect doesn't keep Taká out, or hurt him.  But Maya's fight… the telepath there hadn't seemed to have any trouble.  For now he just puts it out of his head and does as Taká instructs, placing his hand on the Akiar's when he thinks he's ready.
     Nothing seems overtly designed to be frightening.  It's just… strange.  And immediately different than trying to connect to another Akiar.  Things seem to warp and twist oddly.  And then there's the mental equivalent of suddenly having to walk on what should be the wall because the hallway you're entering is suddenly at a ninety-degree angle to where you were walking before.  Mind, you could just jump through, but it's mental, so there's nothing stopping you from stepping up on the wall, metaphorically speaking.  And in the hallway beyond the door?  The mental equivalent of walking through thin jello.  It's not impossible to get through.  Just a little weird.  Walking through thin jello, on the wall.
     If Taká does decide to go on through?  It's actually not as chaotic as a human's mind.  But there's a lot of music of various kinds; Alexander's always thinking about music.  The transparent image of a boy dressed in clothing that, to a human, would look as though it was ancient Norse — could this be the boy he's been speaking to?  The thought that Taká's hand seems quite a bit warmer than he'd thought (Alexander's own hands being about the same temperature as the room).  That Taká's wings are very pretty…
     THOUGHT BEATDOWN!  VICIOUS!  No no bad Lexi!  Cleared mind!  Don't scare the Taká!

     Taká edges his mind in very carefully, aware that he's not dealing with another Akiar.  That actually makes it a little easier for him.
     He can't help but be a little amused at the flurry of surface thoughts, and is just vain enough to spread his wings and flex his shoulders for Alexander's benefit.
     And then he gets down to work.  (Just think clearly what you want to say, to 'talk' to me,) he 'sends, mind to mind.
     The strange — it doesn't seem to bother Taká.  Every mind is different, and the rules of the outside world don't apply there.  Of course, he has better control over his own thoughts, being used to this kind of contact, so his stray thoughts are not immediately evident, beyond 'Wow, his hand is cold!'.

     Good.  Don't want to weird you out.  Scared to scare you.
     It happens before he can really 'censor' it.  There's shades of 'something terrible has happened before', but Alexander at least has the control over his mind to keep the exact nature of it to himself.  So his reaction to the thought that his hands are cold is a little better put-together.  I don't have bloodflow, so I can't keep heat.
     There's a pause, and the mental equivalent of Alexander shifting around, as though adjusting his sitting position in a chair.  I think I got the hang of this now.  It's a little odd, like having a radio in my head.  There's a few odd thoughts of cyborgs and built-in radios here.  Most notably a white/gray-haired one who looks more like a robot than anything else.  That thought, too, is shoved away.  Less violently than the wing thought.
     Speaking of wings?  When Taká flexes his wings, it's… well.  Hearts.  It's hard to describe.  There's a few thoughts of angels (which may explain the human draw to winged people), but these too are neatly put away.

     Taká smiles mentally.  (Well, I was at least part right about robots.)  He's so much more fluent mind to mind.  Not really a surprise, since he doesn't have to translate.  (I usually think of it as letting someone else think inside my mind, if that makes any sense.  And maybe I should mention that your emotions are 'visible', too.)
     In any case, what sensation there is, is not of Taká poking around, but more of Taká just sitting there looking.  When he said he wouldn't delve, he wasn't kidding.  (Are you still okay with this?  Is it uncomfortable at all?)  He 'feels' genuinely concerned.

     The mention of robots gets a slightly sheepish response.  From a game, sorry.  The thought tries to rear its scruffy, robot-prettyboy head again and Alexander puts the thought away again.  But then Taká mentions that his emotions as visible too…
     See, ordinarily Alexander would be too much worried about being embarrassed.  No bloodflow means no blushing.  So he can totally play it off.  He can't do that here.  So when Taká mentions it?  Well, does embarrassment have a color?  Furthermore, can one 'see' mental colors?  Can colors even BE mental?  Mind-blush?  Is that a thing?
     The question gives him something to concentrate on, so the embarrassed mind-color-whatever it parses as can go away.  A little weird.  Never talked to someone like this.  But not uncomfortable.  There is a flurry of tiny thoughts, like tiny hummingbirds, that are buzzing around regarding scientific applications of this ability, wondering about frequencies and bioelectricity comparisons, and the like.

     (Well, I wouldn't know what's normal for a non-telepath to feel, really,)  Taká sends casually.  (But emotions are often intimately tied up with thoughts, even stray ones, so I sometimes can't help but see/hear them, but only fleetingly.  Any deep-darks you have will remain deep-dark.)  He flexes his wings again.  (That one wasn't very deep-dark, I should tell you.)  This, without embarrassment.  He's very much a birdman comfortable in his own skin.
     That said, the tenor of his mind grows more serious.  He doesn't probe — he said he wouldn't — but he does look closely.  (If I had to give evidence,) he finally "says", (you feel alive enough to me.  I mean, you can think and react and emote and everything.  If that isn't the definition of alive, I don't know what is.)

     Alexander comes across as a bit shy where his emotions are concerned, even here.  The flexing of the wings gets that 'oooh, pretty' reaction again.  Which then also gets the mental boot treatment — back in the closet, you!  And there's laughter that isn't his — before the mental blush happens again.  Sorry.  People are preoccupied with flying.  And wings.  Alexander nods to the words of seeming 'alive' enough, which probably comes through as a mental one, too.  Also seems odd.  No bloodflow, no air to brain, braindeath… right?  So how?
     He is, unfortunately, not as fluent in mind-speak as typical speak.  It's a very weird sort of role reversal that he isn't unaware of.  And it's kind of funny.
     But yes.  He asks, How does it unplug?  That was a weird way of putting it.  Don't break contact yet?

     Taká can't help but smile, physically and mentally.  (Don't apologize, your feelings are your own, they're neither right nor wrong, they just are.  As for how you have consciousness without metabolism… well, I don't know, but you definitely do.  On some level you're alive, even without the usual phsyical signs of life.)  His fingers move to Alexander's wrist.  (No pulse.  You said there wouldn't be, and I apologize for not taking your word for it.  That's very odd regardless.)
     Amusement.  (You can break contact by just closing your mind, saying you want out.  I would leave.  I'd have to.  I couldn't live with my conscience if I didn't.  I do need to ask again, this is not uncomfortable?  I know it's a little disquieting, but tolerable.  But I do need to you to tell me when to get out.)

     Definitely not normal.  I have theories.  This regarding Alexander's being 'alive' without physical functions.  But he doesn't want to try to explain the like this.  He might end up overwhelming Taká with the mental equivalent of machinegun fire.  And that would be bad.
     As for uncomfortable?  Is strange.  There's a thought that it's like dressing in a different clothes style to what one's used to.  Strange due to unfamiliarity, but not necessarily bad.  And he's used to sharing his mind/thoughts/space with spirits — which he has made a concerted effort to protect Taká from, because that's not pretty — so it's not like he's totally unfamiliar with someone in his head.
     Alexander has to take a moment, though, to figure out how to break the connection without making it seem like he's rudely shoving Taká out of his mind.  And then he thinks of a way, one that's amusing enough that it shouldn't be regarded as any sort of disapproval.
     He thinks of a very clear mental image — that rotund lady from the old Tom & Jerry cartoons, in all her cartoony glory, sweeping her broom in Taká's direction.  The comical nature of it is obvious, despite the angry-sounding words of the lady.  'Git on out, you!'
     Literally nothing about the image can be taken seriously.  Thus Alexander's chuckling.  Because there just isn't any way that could be taken as Alexander being upset with Taká.

     And Taká is giggling at the mental image, even as he breaks contact by pulling his hand away.  "You only had to say to go," he says, with his accent and hesitancy and unfamiliarity with English.  "I would know with the associated emotion that you were just asking to break contact, not that you were throwing me out angrily.  Unless you were throwing me out angrily, but you weren't."
     He turns over what he 'saw' in his mind.  "I do not know what to think of your situation.  You feel alive to me.  Whether you really are or not.  If that makes sense.  You must be on some level, or you would not have a mind.  And you do.  I 'saw' it."

     "It's weird to talk that way," Alexander replies.  "It sort of feels like… like I'm trying to fill a glass of water with a firehose."  He smirks at the mental image.  "Which is why I sounded so odd.  But yeah.  I'm not used to being able to just say exactly what I mean without having to phrase it so as not to make people think I'm being rude.  So I figured something funny would be the just the ticket."  He chuckles.
     As for having a mind?  "Maybe the ionization in my body's still carrying the signals, even without actual bioelectricity," he reasons.  "I can make ectoplasm, and that's capable of screwing with electronics.  Maybe that's doing it?"

     "I could not guess," Taká muses.  "As far as I know, you are alive, or you may as well be."  He looks at his own hand for a moment.  "That is what I most miss about the mind touch.  I know your meaning.  I do not need to guess.  There is no misunderstanding of intent."
     He stands up, and stretches, spreading his wings wide.  "I think I need a flight.  I thank you.  That was instructive.  I hope for us both?"  There's no urgency in his voice, like he's trying to get away.  "I am sure I will see you again."  Smile.

     Alexander nods.  "Yeah, I bet.  For everybody to suddenly be 'quiet' up there… probably disorienting."  Then the wings are being opened again and there's that look at them again.  Well, there's also that they're black, and even with the band of yellow they look a little like a crow's wings.  Alexander IS a little gothy…
     Anyway!  Alexander also smiles, at the mention of the flight.  "You'll have to tell me what that's like sometime.  See you later."

     "I can do better," Taká says with a lopsided grin and tapping his temple.  "I can show you.  Kie!"  He bows slightly, and flits to the door, and is gone.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License