Jun 03 20:48:31 106 PA - Quality Time for Adon And Vixen
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Fri Jun 03 20:48:31 106 PA.
Another Friday evening. It would be a great night to be out and about without the rain. Though even that can't stop some people. Umbrellas bob about and every little place with covered seating or browsing is mostly packed with dining singles and groups or evening shoppers. Vixen is nearer the former, sitting at a table just at the edge of the canopy that protects it and the five others from the rain. A little covered café of sorts. Though she hasn't even a cup of coffee before her. Instead, she's got her head propped between her hands, gazing out at the people. Her own umbrella leaned against her chair, her bag close to hand.
Amidst the variety of bobbing umbrellas and the scurrying of those without them, there is Adon. He moves at a steady pace through the plaza from the north, seemingly oblivious to the rain, or the fact that he's wet from the same. It is doubtful that he is present to make purchases as the various booths he passes are given too little regard for browsing. He travels near them, just the same, if only to avoid the bulk of the pedestrians.
Vixen catches on to Adon before he gets too close, her brow furrowing slightly as she watches him. No umbrella? Sure, but no protection at all? She doesn't quite get it, though she can't say much about it until he gets near. And when he does start to pass near, she lifts her hand to wave at him idly, asking, "Don't you mind getting all soaked out there?"
The gesture is noted and returned in Adon's own fashion, path altering and pace slowing to bring him near Vixen and her covered table. "The rain is refreshing, and only water. A cloak would hamper my labors and only become soaked, itself." A gesture is made to the umbrella erected over the table. "A parasol leaves me with only one ready hand."
Vixen smirks faintly at the response, her eyes sliding down towards her own umbrella. "Not like its welded to your hand. But how can someone invite you to have a seat when your wet pants are going to get the seat all wet?" She shifting her head a little to let one hand make a motion towards him with extended index finger. "You'd just leave a big ole butt print." Casual amusement lingering at that.
Adon's gaze drops from her, to the finger, then toward one of the chairs and returns. "If the invitation is made, the furniture will survive." Her amusement is not unnoticed, and his own lips take on a brief, modest curl.
"And what about the poor person that comes along next?" Vixen asks, brows lifting. "The seat will be all wet. I suppose you'd just have them suffer through that, hmm? Cruel, cruel man." Her tone casually amused, not at all serious. "I guess you can come sit if you're not busy. But you must consider the ramifications of your action, man."
"Discomfort is not suffering." Adon is not otherwise occupied, it seems, and the seat is taken. His own amusement, while not very expressive, remains. "You do not agree with my views. Harmless mockery to provoke me to reconsider? You are not the first to do so." Not an unpleasant memory, either, as his smile now widens into something much more casual.
"I'm just poking fun at ya, man. Got no aims," Vixen replies, giving him an odd look. "Hard to tell if you're getting it or not, but as long as you're smiling and not shouting." She rolls her shoulders idly, glancing out towards the street again. "So what do you do? When you're not being the shirtless hero of the refugees and such? Like, for fun?"
Adon follows her glance momentarily, but returns his attention to her as he sees nothing of immediate note. "There is no reason for me to shout. When not aiding the refugees, I train, and stalk the Dregs. There are stories of threats in the shadows beyond the violent gangs." His face hardens again with the last note, then nearly returns to the former ease. "Rest, recording my thoughts, and music fill the remainder."
"Music is good.. I write music.. well, used to a bit. Now I mostly play little things,' Vixen murmurs. She looks towards him, brows lifting slightly. "Sounds kinda like you work too much to me, though.. hunting things and all that. There are always going to be things in the Dregs. D-Bee things and human things that like to hurt people. There are more amusing things to do in the Dregs than beat your head against a wall."
"Someone must take action, and so I do." It is a simple fact for Adon. "I cannot remove the threat entirely, yet that is no reason to ignore it. My duties are also rewarding." Her final comment does invoke some curiosity, or confusion. "What do you find more amusing than damaging your skull?"
Vixen blinks once at Adon, not making the connection of his last comment before it clicks and she snorts softly, the expression mingled with an aborted little bit of a laugh. "I mean, beating your head against the wall, like.. sure, you might take out one bad guy, but another steps up. That kinda thing." She then shrugs a little and says, "I Like to go tagging in the Dregs. Though a moment after she adds, "Tagging, like, using paint to mark walls. Sometimes with pictures, sometimes with words."
Adon's confusion melts away with the explanation. Vernacular expression are obviously not his area of expertise. "There are some threats that would spread beyond the Dregs, and consume the city if not eradicated. So far, the rumors are only that." A nod is dipped to her with the next comment and explanation. "You are an artist and musician as well as a diplomat. That shows that you are more educated and enlightened than most here."
"At least someone recognizes it," Vixen replies with a casual grin. She's pleased, yes. "Yeah, I know a lot. Though not everything." She gives her shoulders a little roll. "I know a lot about the Dregs. I suppose you got the right idea keeping an eye out for the big ones, but you don't seem to do much that's exciting. I mean, exciting without being dangerous like hunting things. Tagging can be dangerous.. but less so. More like playing a little cat and mouse if you decide to drop a tag on turf that ain't yours."
"Challenge has its own thrill, whatever the form," Adon generally opines, "and improves the self whether met or failed. There is little time for recreation, here and now, yet I do enjoy it when able."
"I guess so.. but fighting seems a pretty bad thrill to me. One little screw up and that's all there is too it. I'm too tense when it comes to that kind of stuff to do more than worry that maybe I'll finally screw up," Vixen replies, casually thoughtful. "Or maybe that I'll get to like it too much the few times it does sorta.. get fun. You know, killing things." Her lips purse faintly and she lingers in that light thoughtfulness.
Adon regards the shifting expressions that accompany her words, and the observation continues briefly before he responds. "Combat need not be mortal and foes can be defeated without death. Some creatures require it by their nature, others force it by their actions, yet those are often the exceptions. Better to stay your hand in mercy, then never lift it again in regret." The topic of conflict he is more vocal upon, and perhaps more knowledgable, as well.
