Jun 11 13:32:33 105 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Thu Jun 11 13:32:33 105 PA.
After a brief call to set up, Des is expecting Cali to arrive soon for a sketching. Having seen a bit of how others attend to such matters, he's prepared some coffee for her arrival and has a few thin cut strips of ham warming in the oven. Just a little something to snack on. Not much used to entertaining and what is proper for such things. But he isn't worried. He has his sketchpad set on the arm of the couch beside him along with a few prepared pencils, sitting on the couch itself as he peruses one of his cookbooks. Thoughtfully considering the recipe for a 'Devils Food Cake'. Curious name.
She does arrive, and soon. She has washed the majority of the grease smudges from her face and the coveralls are replaced with disreputative combats and a vest top that, being black, shows little of the grease her clothing normally collects. Her hair is tied up, a high ponytail that bounces as she moves, leaving her face unhidden. She knocks on the door, business like and practical as she shifts a bag from one shoulder to another, her leather jacket keeping out the cold.
Desmond looks up as he hears the knock. "One moment." His deep voice lifted enough to be heard. A ribbon attached to the book is shifted, marking his place. Rising he will move across to the door, though the book is deposited on one of the bookcases along the way. He himself has limited himself to jeans and a black tshirt, missing the Moe's label that he's worn for months before. The door is unlocked and opened, the big feline dipping his head to Cali. "Welcome, please come in." Shifting aside to make way, adding a sweep of arm to the general welcome. "You are well, yes?"
"I'm fine, Desmond. You?" She glances around, the sparten furnishings gaining a look of approval from the petite woman. "You sure you want to draw me? I mean, I ain't exactly dressed up nor nothing..." She glances down, awareness of her clothing showing in her face. "I could go back, put on something... feminine I guess?" The offer is made with a doubtful tone of voice, her one dress not entirely suitable for hanging out in men's apartments.
"I do well. Very well," Desmond replies, his steady voice betraying a sense of contentment. The door closed and locked before he turns to move back into the main room. "I am very sure. I will be drawing your face and yours is attractive," he states, as if such things were self evident. The light smell of well cooked ham and coffee lightly lace the air and, as he passes the couch, he asks, "Would you care for some coffee? So too I have warmed some ham. I am.. not sure of how such things are usually done, but it seems right to offer something." He pauses just outside the little half kitchen to look back towards her.
Caliopa nods at the offer of coffee, giving Desmond a sunny smile, the movement of her head causing the ponytail to bob. "Atti gave me something to eat before I came over. He is gonna make me fat..." The sunny smile doesn't falter at all as she follows his steps, "So I ain't hungry but thanks for that." She looks around again, "Your place is nice." Awkward, like a child remembering the right lessons on polite conversation.
Desmond goes to his little coffee maker, drawing down two clean, new mugs, which he carefully fills to three quarters. "It is pleasant. I had much less space before. This.. seems extravagant by comparison. So much so, I know not how to fill the space." Which would be obvious enough. "Perhaps you might give me suggestions?" A pause then as he looks to her then and asks, "How do you take your coffee?"
"Just black, Desmond." She replies to the questions in a backward order, dropping her bag at her feet and sliding the jacket off. "I ain't much for decorating. Atti did ours, I just put my tools away..." She offers the sunny smile again, unworried at the balance in their relationship. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. "Kid always got ideas on clothes and the like..."
Desmond lifts both mugs without adding anything to either, bringing them both out. "Kid? Aimee's friend, yes? You know her as well?" Both mugs offered, being the same, allowing Cali to choose which one she might have for herself. "So too I know little of things such as this. I suppose I might ask Aimee. Especially as I hope that, in time, she might come to dwell here with me."
Caliopa tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear before reaching for the mug. "You are gonna ask her to move in with you? That is so sweet." Her smile speaks volumes about that, showing true delight at the good news. "She might have ideas. I ain't met her but Kid seems fond of her, and if that is so..." She shrugs lightly, lifting the mug to inhale the scent of the coffee. "Uh, how do you want to do this?"
"I have asked before, but she is.. covetous of her freedom. Though I do not seek to take it from her," Desmond clarifies, though he seems unperturbed by this situation. He motions for Cali to sit. "I think that if she were to help me decorate this place, it might feel more hers. And she might lean more towards coming to be here." He sips his coffee lightly, then adds, "How the sketching is done will be simple. You need only sit still, though you may speak still. And I will attempt to render you on paper."
Caliopa glances around, the curiousity about Desmond's girlfriend still in her face. "Where do you want me to sit?" She questions, stepping back towards the sofa. "I bought a piece to work on, if it ain't something that would interfere?" Work as take out, as something to sooth the nerves. "I guess when we moved in together, I never really thought 'bout it. Just wasn't so safe to be in my truck and ..." She shrugs.
"Here is good," Desmond says as he motions towards the couch. He sets his cup down on the floor, near to the edge of the couch. Lacking a table for the moment, though he considers if he should get one now. A brief flicker of thought before he returns to the now. "You may do as you like, so long as you do not move your head, as that is what I will be drawing." He picks up his sketchpad and pencil from the arm of the couch near him, flicking through the pages as he looks for the next empty one. This pad is filling well, he'll have to get a new one soon. "I feel that soon we shall be together in one place. As it is, I spend much time in her apartment. It is almost as if I live there at times."
She curls herself up on the couch, pulling her bag into her lap. A brief rummage and a complex piece of machinery emerges from it. "Just to hold, figure out what is wrong with it." She explains, tucking a strand behind her ear. "Ain't she happy to have you life there then?" She questions, giving Desmond a curious look. "Atti didn't want to be in the truck. Said it felt weird to do anythin' there with the truck 'n' me talkin'."
Desmond will lift a hand then, ever so lightly touching her chin, to have her lift it slightly and turn a bit of profile toward him, without losing the fullness of her face to the turn. Assuming she's that easy to position, he will rumble, "Like this.. yes, this is good. Keep your head just like this." He will lean back then and look at her, studying the details of her face as he responds. "She may be, but.. the place she lives does not suit her. It is in Dregtown. She has made it nice, but the area.. I do not trust it. Here she would be safer.. here she would be more comfortable." His firm beliefs. "Otherwise, it would not matter to me where we two live, for being with her is most important."
Caliopa is easy to position, obedient to the touches. "Like that..." She keeps the position, her hands moving without her eyes on the piece. "You don't like her livin' there? Our place we're buyin' is in Dregtown...garage 'n' offices." She offers the information to compare, not defensively. "Ain't she able to look out for herself?"
Desmond nods his head as he studies Caliopa quietly. "She is. Aimee is.. she is My Flame." The term seeming his most comfortable descriptor. "She is strong in her way. Self reliant. In many cases, I would say she could handle herself well. But she is not a warrior, though she has that same heart. If she refuses again, I will wait. But I would prefer her here, for many reasons. But as a flame, I could not tell her what to do.. smother her, for it would take away what is most precious. It must be her choice in the end." Finally he seems to have seen enough initially, his eyes dipping to the pad as he starts to sketch carefully.
Caliopa's eye shift slightly, part of that which makes up Cali sliding from her eyes into the thing in her hands. She doesn't reply, letting him draw in silence as her fingers turn the item slowly, a tiny crease between her eyes. Slowly, the piece is dismantled, turned into several pieces as her mind clicks away, identifying the problem. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, deepening a dimple there.
Desmond quietly goes about his first bout of sketching, his own brow furrowed with concentration, a little frown rising up to mix with it. Despite this, he enjoys this first part. As if framing the rest of the image, he carefully forms the outline of her head and shoulders with care. He looks up then and blinks once at the shift in her expression. Musing It quietly for a few moments, he rumbles lowly, "Cali." To 'wake' her softly, perhaps.
Caliopa blinks slowly, her eyes refocusing in the time and place. "Uh." She blinks again, her personality flowing back into her eyes. "Yes?" She shifts slightly to look at him, apology showing in her eyes. "Uh, sorry. Did I move?" She puts the pieces down, guilt instantly flowing into her face.
"No, but.." Desmond pauses, as if considering how to say this next without seeming.. negative somehow. "When you do that which you do, you seem to.. leave yourself. Who you are leaves your face." A soft note of concern. "Perhaps you might leave off work for this, for I wish to capture who you are." A pause, then he adds in, "But you did not move and that is good." A positive lilt to the end.
A brief flash of confusion shows in the expressive eyes and face. "Sorry, Desmond..." She lifts her hands away from the items, resting them in her lap, the personality returned to her face. "I didn't know it did that..." She pulls a face, trying to keep her head in the same position. "Uh, so do you think she will? Move in?"
"All is well, Cali." Desmond's only reply to that, his deep voice given a positive lilt. Then he's studying her again, quiet and careful. "I know not if she will accept. I hope so. I think that, if she feels this place is not just mine, but hers, she would feel comfortable here. I do not doubt she would enjoy dwelling with me. If that were not the case, she would not welcome me so often as she does." He seems solid on his views, likely having given them a great deal of thought. He dips his eyes, softly moving the pencil over the paper. "So too, I think I would enjoy her mark upon this place.. even if she does not come to dwell with me in the end. So that a piece of her would be here."
Her fingers are almost twitching to try and reach for the machine parts, discomfort at sitting still, and being watched showing in her eyes. "You don't reckon she will? Atti got me to pick bits of our place, to kinda make it ours." She glances over, without moving her eyes, to watch Desmond. "You love her, a lot, don't you?"
Desmond pauses his sketching then to lift his eyes to Cali, though not to study. A more casual gaze as he considers her question quietly. "Yes.. though such a word seems unworthy of what I truly feel for her. She is my future." A low, deep breath breathed before he lowers his eyes to the pad again. Pencil scratching carefully. "But she might still be.. uncertain what she desires. I have not truly asked her that for a time. It might be time to do so again soon."
She starts to nod before catching herself, sitting still, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Your future?" Her voice holds a little confusion, her forehead creasing for a moment. "If you're so sure, why ain't she? I mean, it is one of them ones that one feels more than the other?" The blunt questions come without thought, and the flush that rises reveals her realisation of what she asked. "Uh, sorry."
Desmond shakes his head slightly as he forms her features in vague outline. "She is sure of her love for me. Of that I don't doubt. If nothing else, the trouble we have seen as of late.. it has proved that much to me. It is only those small things that are of concern. She likes the place she lives, but I would offer her more. Before I had not the resources, but in the now I can give something more suitable." His head lifts then and he considers her features for a moment before he dips his head to sketch further. "She is my future, meaning that where she goes, so too shall I. The only question is what my place with her will be. Before, it was to be friend only. But now it is as lover." A status which sparks a fresh note of contentment in him.
She follows his explanation with a thoughtful look in her eyes, pieces of his life clicking into place for her, behind those thoughtful eyes. "I think that is kinda sweet, Desmond." A quick sunny smile brightens her face, lighting her eyes despite her keeping her head still. "Havin' someone is good..." The soft words match the expression on her face, the warmth in her eyes showing her feelings for Atticus.
Desmond nods his head slightly in agreement, lifting his head again. Seeing that new shift in her expression. Something that is more favorable. He considers for a moment and then asks, "Tell me of Atticus. Of your thoughts on him." His eyes lingering on her as he asks for this, carefully gauging her features, her eyes.
The corners of her mouth curve upwards, deepening dimples, that warmth in her eyes shining her feelings for the elf clearly. "He is a good bloke, makes sure I do what's needful, like eatin' and sleepin'." Her fingers relax a little as she speaks, the glow in her face brightening. "'fore him, I just worked, see. Didn't really talk to anyone, outside of reasons for things needing fixin'. Atti kinda changed everything..."
Desmond nods his head once, mutely studying her as she speaks on Atticus, pleased with the change that comes over her. "I would ask after you love, but I think it is an obvious thing," he rumbles, his eyes dipping to his sketchpad again. Adjusting the outline he's made with this new view of her. His brow creasing as he concentrates on this difficult task.
"Never felt like this before... I kinda had one relationship before, but it never felt like this." Her face is softened, the warmth remaining in her eyes. "Kinda like there was a bit missin' from me that was stoppin' bits of me from workin'." Instinctively, she reaches for a machine related explanation. "Like a cog fittin' in my mind, makin' stuff work properly."
Her words bring up the natural progression of Desmond's own thoughts towards his past. Considering his own prior relations. But it is an easy thing to not mention it. Darkness does not fit the light of this moment. "It pleases me to know this, Cali," Desmond tells her with a simple honesty in his voice. Considering her features as he adds, "It is good to have someone. One cannot truly know what is missed until they have experienced what they knew not before. Such things Aimee shows me often."
She struggles not to nod in agreement, her fingers tensing again for a moment. "Ain't that true, Desmond." She agrees softly, her teeth catching at her lower lip, trying to suppress the smile that grows. Her cheeks gain a little colour, her thoughts written on her face, a list of the firsts that Atticus had shown her.
Desmond doesn't note it at first, though as he lifts his head again to consider Cali, he does. A pause as he muses a moment before responding, "So too with Aimee. Such things as ice cream.. popcorn. I had not known them before. They were not important to me. But in the now, such things she shows me that are favorable. How much one can do with the preparation of food. I thought I might bake a cake this day, perhaps to present to her when she comes to see the place."
"You never ate icecream before?" The surprise flashes onto her face, her expression showing every light thought in her mind. "I ain't good at cookin'. I tried, once, to show Atti I can do it. Seems logical, that it is just puttin' parts together, to make a whole." Amusement, laughter at herself, rises in that face, "I set the pan on fire, burnt it all."
Desmond ponderst hat as he glances down at this sketchpad, adding light details slowly. "Before Aimee showed it to me, I did not.. I could have, but it didn't seem important." Nor did art, yet here he is, applying the pencil to paper with care. "Cooking is that in part, but there is more to it." He lifts his eyes, regarding Cali in a more casual way. "I know not how to define it precisely. But this will be the first time I make a cake. There is one in my cookbook that is called Devil's Food. I think she would enjoy it."
She resists turning her head, a natural movement to meet his gaze. "I guess I miss the bit that ain't logic." There is a soft rueful amusement, at her own cost, in her voice. "I don't reckon I know that one. I ain't really the domestic type, I guess." The grin tugs at her lips again, "Atti is. Makes a good wife..."
"Indeed. I have seen that such roles are split amongst humans. By the thoughts of some, at least," Desmond observes lightly. "Perhaps you should seek tutelage in cooking." His eyes dip to his pad again, carefully sketching as he continues. "If a trade reveals a flaw, then it would be of benefit to pursue that trade, to better yourself in that way. It a reason I wish to learn art. Through this, I learn of softer ways. It is.. calming and focusing, something I wish to improve within myself. So too it is creative, whereas all I have been taught before is destructive."
"I guess. I just figured Atti enjoys cookin', and he ain't likely to forget he is doin' it and get stuck in workin'." She grins again, the dimples deepening. "I guess I learn a bit, when I watch him..." Again, the trace of colour rises in her cheeks, a shy embarrassment at one of her own thoughts.
Desmond nods his head slightly, musing what he has so far. The question, as ever, is to when to pause. What he has actually reasonably good, given his developing skill. There is that tug to do more, battling with the caution, not wishing to ruin what he has completed. His expression firms for a moment as he considers this, to him, very serious concern. Ultimately he decides to take a third route. "Come, have a look, Cali." HIs eyes lifted to her as he lifts the pad to turn and present his work to her. While he is still learning, he's formed a light replica of her on the page. There are still guiding lines here and there, techniques he's read of and learned of from others to keep things symmetrical and lined up. But it is her, if not perfectly formed. "I hope it is not too bad, I am still learning this trade."
She hesitates before uncurling herself, twisting to look at the pad. Her uncertainty at the reflection of herself on the paper shows in her face, and she gives him a small smile. "You made it prettier 'n me, Desmond. Ain't bad at all though." She grins then, deflecting with humour, "Got the oil down pat." The wry humour shines in her eyes, warming the colour to honey gold.
Desmond furrows his brow slightly as she notes a 'mistake'. The big male tilting the pad to look at it for a moment. Shaking his head slightly he states, "This is you, Cali. You are a beautiful woman." Just the straight facts from the big cat. "I had worried I did not make so perfect an image, but I feel it is good for my skill level." He leans back slightly and considers her. "Don't you see yourself as in this image when you look to the mirror?"
She looks steadily at the picture before shaking her head slowly. "I ain't like that. I can pass for pretty if I scrub up." She is definite on that, stubbornness showing in her eyes. "Your drawin' is good but I ain't like that... " She shrugs, reaching for the pieces of the machine, her fingers automatically fitting them together before she puts it in her bag.
Desmond considers that and glances down at his sketchpad, carefully pulling the sheet from it on the perforated edge. "I wish you to have it. For me, this was for the practice alone. And you were a good subject for it. The image I have no need to keep. Show it to Atticus, perhaps. I think he will like it." And perhaps he might do better convincing her of what is on the page. He senses he could talk and talk and it would not penetrate. Not truly. The page handed over. "A gift in thanks for your patience with me. And he for allowing me to do this."
She takes it slowly, giving it a slightly worried look. "I'll give it to him..." She gives Desmond a slightly lopsided grin, warmth in her eyes. "Kid given up tryin' to tell me that I look like that, it ain't jus' you." She shrugs, wrinkling her nose, the movement cute. "It ain't something I figure as important, not truly. Not like things you can do. Can't do a thing with pretty."
Desmond muses her words and shakes his head slightly. "Perhaps I might not press on with speaking of it, but I do not lie, nor make false. I can only tell you what my eyes see." He pauses and gives his head a slight cant as he asks, "What things I can do? So too can you do things as well. Things that are very impressive. So too there is no harm in realizing what you are. Knowing the effect you have on others is an important thing. And beauty is one that can impact others strongly, even when such is not desired or meant."
Caliopa pulls a face that wrinkles her nose, bunches up her cheeks. "I don't see it has any effect on folks, not like fixin' stuff up does. Not like Atti's way of talkin' with folks and Kid's thinkin' of how stuff works with folks..." She shrugs, dismissive of her own looks. "Me doin' matters, something I never done anything to get, it ain't something I can take credit for. Would be like a machine bein' proud of the way it looks."
Desmond considers her words quietly and notes with care, "That time before, it has a strong effect on me," he states. "I do not mean to bring up dark thoughts, for surely it is something you don't wish to remember, but any aspect of the self, properly honed and wielded, is of use in some way." A pause before he adds, "But it isn't just the physical. One can be lovely to see, but if they are not beautiful past the skin, it is for naught. You are both." He frowns slightly, not sure precisely where he goes with this, though he seems set to soldier on despite. "But I mean not that you should take great pride in it. Great pride can be worse than being unknowing of your strengths. Just that you know what is truth about yourself."
The colour rises in her cheeks, discomfort at the compliments showing in her face, in her body language as she shifts from foot to foot. "I guess. I mean, I ain't all that special, Desmond. I jus' am what I am, and you gotta do the best you can for the folks you can." She hesitates, giving him a small smile, shyly sharing something private. "My pa used to say, do the job in front of you, as best you can and you won't go wrong."
"Those are wise words, for anything done should be done well," Desmond agrees steadily. "So too is it wise to know yourself in every way that is possible." Seeming fine leaving it there for this day. "If you have something that calls to your attention in the now, my needs are met for the now. And I thank you for giving me your time. Though do not think I dismiss you." He sets his sketchpad onto the arm of the couch again, lifting his tepid coffee to sip at it lightly, seeming to mind the coolness. "I plan to try the cake soon. If you wished to linger to aid, I would not mind it. Perhaps to see another creating, for your own learning. Though this would be my first cake, so it could turn out poorly."
The smile that lights up her face and eyes is both sunny and obviously genuine. "I got machines waitin' on me." She makes them sound as if they are knowingly waiting there, checking their watches, impatiently. "You let me know if she likes the cake? Maybe you can show me, if it works, help me bake one for Atti..." She picks up her bag and coat, pushing the paper into her pocket as she does so. "Um thanks."
Desmond nods his head once. "I would be glad to help you with that, provided I learn well enough myself." He rises up from where he sits and will escort her to the door to let her out, speaking as they move towards it. "You are welcome to visit when ever you might wish. Atticus as well. And I shall let you know, then you can tell me what Atticus thought of the image." The door opened and he adds, "Farewell, Cali. Be safe."
She gives him a warm smile, sunny as ever, as she shrugs into her coat, preparing for the weather outside. "Thanks Desmond...I'll see you..." Her smile wrinkles her nose slightly, deepening the dimples and bunching her cheeks before she turns, heading down the hallway with a bobbing ponytail. Tags:caliopa, desmond
