12834/Knock Knock: Bird Who

Knock Knock: Bird Who
Date of Scene:	19 September 2022
Location:	Kian's estate, Kyshan
Synopsis:	In which The Talk is had, in a different way than before.
Cast of Characters:	Kian, Terry O'Neil

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Kian has posed:
    Kían is spending some quality time with his new baby sister.  Gar is probably at the qihár practice grounds.  Mike is probably still looking for his pants.  Kaida may well be fending off attention from further rut'yw.  Cait is almost certainly nerding out on biology.  Agatha is surely trading embarrassing stories about Terry in exchange for embarrassing stories about Kían from his parents.
    Which means the vast expanse of the home that Kían insists on describing as 'small' is very quiet, and very very devoid of people, from Earth or from Kyshán.
    Non-Akiár, of course, will not get the telepathic message from the kirát that someone has arrived on one of the balconies.
    Akiár'yw and Earthers alike have a reasonable chance of hearing a female voice ask, "Kían?  Gar?  …Téri?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "In here!" comes the voice.  It isn't Terry's human voice, which is a tenor, but a baritone, an indication that Terry is in feline shape.
    He is found in one of the rooms of the palatial enclave doing what might be charitably called exercise.  In that he is doing hand-stand push-ups… while balancing upon several pieces of furniture stacked one upon the other in a way that appears to be just an inch or two away from collapse, but somehow doesn't quite manage to do so.  He's not in Akiar garb but in his regular Titans outfit, because wearing a kilt while doing hand-stands is just simply not something you want to do, undergarment notwithstanding.

Kian has posed:
    "Is that Téri?" whoever it is asks.  It doesn't sound like Shíri, or either of Kían's moms.  It doesn't take long for the intruder to find the source of the voice—Akiár'yw are good at that out of habit, having to be able to find each other at a distance.
    So whether or not Terry is surprised when Kála touches down at the outside entrance remains to be seen.  "Yes, it is Teri."  Translator notwithstanding, she still pronounces his name with an Akiár accent.  "I wanted… I… how in the name of all the Gods are you balancing like that?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Breathe in.  Breathe out.  He lowers himself, and then rises.  His arms shake, in very small part from the muscular exertion, in large part from the balancing.  "I… am a cat," he says carefully.  He recognizes the voice as Kala's without needing to look up at her—that would distract him too much.  Instead, shifting his weight and using his limbs to balance, he begins to remove the pieces of furniture, one by one.  It's definitely an exercise adapted from a circus act, and whether it is something he's learned from Harley or from Dick, or assigned to him by Leo, it's nevertheless very well-suited as practice.
    "Cats have great balance.  I'm a magical cat… so my balance is even more so…."
    One chair.  Two chairs.  Three chairs down, he slowly begins to get closer to the ground.  "How… can I help you?"  Fourth chair gets tangled up in another, so he has to spend some extra time untangling it, but finally, it comes down.

Kian has posed:
    "That… explains a lot about your performance playing qihár," she says.  "You know exactly where your body is and what it's doing at all times, don't you?  No wonder the game made sense to you.  Or Kían and Gar have been training you up to play."
    She watches, fascinated, as Terry slowly lowers himself down without spilling a chair, or himself.  "I, uh," she begins, and falters.  Which is odd for an Akiár, if judging by experience with Kian—they're usually perfectly willing to share what's on their mind, either directly or verbally.
    She tries again.  "It's very difficult for me to not think of abilities like that as a rhy'thar.  You don't think of it as a Gods'-gift, do you?  Or… do you?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    The second level is finally taken care of, leaving two chairs at ground level for him to balance on.  With an elegant maneuver, he ends up perched on one, and then steps onto the ground with a smirk.
    "That depends on what your concept of a 'god' is.  My world was created by the dreams of a mortal wizard, and my powers come from that world.  The wizard obtained his powers not from a god, but by studying magic, so there were no gods involved in the process."  He shrugs.  "There are the Fantastic Four in my world, who got their powers by… being exposed to some sort of crazy radiation in outer space.  One of them can become invisible, the other one can elongate as if he were made of rubber, one is made entirely out of rocks, and the fourth one can burst into flames and never be burnt or consumed by them.  No gods there as well so…"  He gives Kala a grin.  "I'm afraid Earth might be a little problematic to your theology.  Mind you, there are abilities that are given by some gods—I know some people like that.  But then again, I also know some gods.  Donna is a goddess, you know," he says, carelessly dropping that fact.

Kian has posed:
    Kála shakes her head.  "Kían was right, you're not easy to understand," she says, but she's smiling as she says it.  "But maybe you're not supposed to be and that's part of your rhy'thar.  And… and that's not really why I'm here anyway."
    And that's where the Akiár openness and lack of pretension dries up.
    "I have no idea how to start this," she says after a moment's silence.  "You're not Akiár.  I don't know how you think.  And I've been warned that touching your mind won't help that.  You're… intense.  Shíri has told me so.  So have both Kían and Gar, but they're used to you now."
    She falls silent.
    She remains silent for quite some time.
    Finally, she says, "Gar means a lot to me.  Maybe nearly as much as he does to you."  It comes out awkwardly.  Not unwillingly, just awkwardly, as if she's used to this sort of thing being settled mentally… which for her, it always is.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Vorpal arches an eyebrow.  "Ooh… I see it's going to be one of those conversations," he says, and then gives a little giggle, rubbing his hands together.  "My first experience navigating Akiar social waters.  Okay, okay, I can do this!"
    He reaches over and gently grabs Kala by the elbow—using a disembodied Mickey Mouse-style 'big hand' construct, so there is no skin-to-skin contact that would trigger a psychic trip, and leads her out to the main room.  "I figured we probably would do better out here where furniture hasn't been put into disarray.  I'd offer tea and cookies but I have no idea if Caitlin has baked anything here yet so… we'll have to do without."
    Then the cat flings himself on a chair, landing on it gracefully in one of those lounging poses you could imagine a cat would adopt, had they a humanoid body.  It looks like liquified feline grace poured onto a chair.  Vorpal rests his hand on his chin and gives Kala a big grin.  "Garfield Logan is someone I love with every ounce of my being.  He is sweet, smart, absolutely adorable, with an enormous heart, but also some self-image issues.  And I take it that you have fallen head over hee—"  A pause.  "Oh, that might not be an expression you guys use, considering you just do loops in the air.  Right.  Better turn of phrase: You've got it bad for him, don't you?"

Kian has posed:
    Kála 'kya!'s in surprise at the way she's herded inside, and then laughs.  Because Téri.  Expect the unexpected.
    "What I have for him is not bad," she says, not understanding the Earth turn of phrase.  "I am, I just, I… don't understand the Earth way of relationships and I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to take someone from you.  Yes.  Gar means a lot to me and if it weren't for you and Kían, I would have asked him to be tenár'h by now.  But he is already your tenár and while I don't know for sure about you, I know Kían can never be my tenár as well.  I don't know what the Earth rules are about sharing.  I consider Gar tavárik'h, and I hope he thinks of me the same way, but I would never try to put myself between you and Kían, and him."
    Terry's probably used to the Akiár way of explaining absolutely everything in excruciating detail because that's what Kían does when he doesn't have mental contact.
    "Gods, I hope that made sense, because it didn't make much to me."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "That's all right, it means we are having an influence on you."  The cat chuckles.  "If you are feeling confused, then everything is going according to plan."
    He sits up, legs crossed under him, and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands.  "Okay, let's back up for a moment and lay it out on me.  Does Gar know how you feel?  I imagine he does, what with your telepathy and all."  Mental note: wonder why Gar didn't approach him about it?  That can be done later.  "So… tell me how this is handled in your world!  Consider me a feline anthropologist, so you can tell me all the steps that would happen in a situation like this, what the reactions would be, et cetera."

Kian has posed:
    "We talked about it, yes.  And I know Kían wouldn't mind, because that's just not the way we do things, but I don't know how you would feel, because I don't know how Earth does things.  I don't want to take Gar away from you and Kían.  I just want to share him when the opportunity presents.  He's… he's like no one else I've ever met.  Even when he wears the body of our people, he's… exotic.  And gentle.  And affectionate."
    Kála stops, and tilts her head inquisitively at the cat.  "And… and that's probably why you love him, isn't it?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Oh, yes, you are quite correct.  Gar isn't like anyone I ever met.  In fact—"  He allows himself a candid smile.  "I loved him long before I met him.  You know how Kian has representations of qihar athletes?"  If she didn't, now she does—Terry O'Neil, secret divulger!  But it's likely she knows.
    Probably.
    "I had several in my room, growing up.  He already was making a name for himself as a hero when I was in school."  He grins and shakes his head.  "I had no illusions about ever meeting him, much less anything else.  But fate is a fickle and capricious thing.  One day I literally bumped into him when I wasn't watching where I was going and I fell flat on my ass.
    "Yes.  He is very much unique.  I am not surprised Kian fell for him as well.  And you.  I am not surprised people love him so much."
    He shifts his position slightly.  "It dawns on me… neither Gar nor Kian have told you about how they got together?  About the time I was lost in another dimension and was given up for dead?"

Kian has posed:
    Kála giggles.  "Are you kidding?  He and I share our favorite holos of qihár professionals!  Well, some of them anyway.  It's not going to be a surprise to you that he mainly has male players in his collection.  He's been an exclusive for as long as I've known him, a couple failed experiments notwithstanding."
    She shakes her head.  "We had given Kían up for dead, he's explained to us about when they thought Gar might be dead, so I'm not surprised you were too… is that the price of admission to your team?" she asks with a smirk.  "But no, he's never told how any of the three of you got together.  I guess I just assumed you drifted together like he and Ráka had, and Kiár too."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry lets out a laugh!  "You might say that it's something like that.  Donna, at one point, simply stopped existing.  But when I was gone, Gar and Kian got closer together, assuming I was dead, they consoled each other.  And then, when I came back, well…."
    He smirks.  "Kian did link our minds together to hash things out, because as you can imagine I come from a culture where monogamy is the cultural standard."  He tilts his head.  "And… well.  I saw things from a broader perspective.  You guys being telepaths and always knowing how the other person feels is an advantage.  But once I was able to experience how Gar really felt about me…."
    He trails off, and then shrugs.  "Well, I didn't have a reason to be jealous, now, did I?"

Kian has posed:
    Kála nods and smiles.  "I wondered if it might be like that, that we can be free with each other because we always know where we stand with each other.  I know that Kían knows I don't want to take Gar away from him.  I'd like you to be as sure as he is.  I'm… not sure how to do that without you blowing my mind out my ears."
    That said, she does hold her hand out, although somewhat tentatively.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "I mean," Terry says, "I trust you?  The whole manipulation and backstabbing thing doesn't seem to be as common on your world as it is on mine, because telepaths are minority there… but Akiar culture is also very different.  And, let's be honest, if… it ever came to the point where Gar didn't love me as much and wanted to be somewhere else, with someone else…."  He grows quiet for a moment.  "It would break my heart clear through.  But what would I gain by holding him back?  Make him miserable?"  He shrugs, and grins.  "I don't know a lot of things, but I do know that love grows through testing and endurance, not by sheltering.  Wings atrophy if you don't flap them, right?"
    He chuckles.  "So.  I'm perfectly fine with this.  However… if you still want to experience a wild ride…."  He holds out his hand and leaves his fingers just an inch away from Kala's.  "You are more than welcome to.  Wonderland is quite an experience, and I carry a lot of it in me."

Kian has posed:
    "I hoped you might be.  There is something a bit Akiár about you, even with a wingset and not real wings.  Or maybe we Akiár are as mad as I've been told you can be."  Kála smiles broadly.  "And I don't think Gar has any intention of leaving you.  You're deep in his heart.  I just want to borrow him from time to time."
    She looks at Terry's hand. "And I want you to understand me, and I want to understand you."  Setting her jaw, she claps her hand firmly into Terry's.
    Assuming he's not trying to blow her brain out her ears, he'll get a definite sense of a well-ordered, strong mind.  At least he will for a moment, before she allows Wonderland to wash over her.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Rafael Sabatini's novel, "Scaramouche", begins with one of the greatest opening lines in literature:

    'He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.'

    This opening line is a rather succinct encapsulation of what Kala's first impression of Terry's mind might be.  He is not, by all means, attempting to blow her mind, but allows her into the vestibule of his mind, which at first appears like a Victorian bordello: it has method and some order, but it is painted in very bright colors and decoration for decoration's sake more than function in some cases.
    But, as Kian could have told her, that was merely the beginning.  What follows after is not unlike the floor dropping out and being tossed down a tunnel of colors and sounds, where the distinction between each other blurs more than just a little.  There are highs and lows, and a sense of expansion that gives the impression someone has found the knobs to the focus of reality and is having a real wild time discovering what they do.  Concepts dance in front of cognition and become their antithesis, and then settle down and have an adorable family of syntheses that gather around the telly every Sunday to hear the tortured ghost of Hegel screaming in sheer disbelief.
    And there is music like the agile waltzing of planets and the slow, ponderous march of fleas.

    If I had a world of my own,
    everything would be nonsense.
    Nothing would be what it is,
    because everything would be what it isn't.
    And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be.
    And what it wouldn't be, it would.

    You see?

    And there is laughter.

Kian has posed:
    {…!}
    Which is the closest thing to a lucid thought Kála can get out, before pulling her hand free.  "Oh my…."
    She shakes her hand like Terry had been palming a buzzer.  "Is it like that in your head all the time?  It's… wow."  Kían did tell her, but there's something missing between the description and the reality.  "I'm amazed you can stand upright…."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "You get used to it," Vorpal says with that trademark Cheshire grin.  "At first, it was easy to get carried away.  You should ask Gar about the time he had my Cheshire spirit.  He went completely… well, let's just say that he was a complete whirlwind of chaos."
    And then, he laughs.  "And glitter.  So.  Much.  Glitter.  Even more than I usually employ.  But yes… when I am the Cheshire Cat, I live with Chaos all the time.  But I have learned to… not tame it, exactly.  I have learned to not get overwhelmed."  He raises an eyebrow.  "Most of the time.  Sometimes… I succumb to the temptation of mischief."
    "Okay, maybe a little more than sometimes."

Kian has posed:
    "I heard about you meeting Aéla on your first visit here," Kála says with a grin, rubbing her hand.  "You didn't hit her with all of that, did you?"  The way she asks that, it sounds more like she hopes he did.
    "Well, I'm not going to say I understand you, and if Kían does, he's changed a lot since going to your world.  His rhy'thar aside, he was always so quiet and conventional.  And Gar is so giving and gentle.  You three complement each other."  She snickers.  "And probably baffle each other, too."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "I… might have.  Or a little of it.  I mean, she was flying.  It wouldn't have done for her to drop like a rock."  The Cheshire smirks.  "But don't let Gar's gentle side fool you.  Until I came around, he was the reigning mischief and prank king of the Titans.  And if he's got the itch, he will pull pranks that—look, just as an example, a month ago he and Vic got into a prank war and I ended in the cross-fire and I spent two weeks trying to get caramel out of my fur.  What I'm saying is that Gar is a sweet guy but it's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for."
    And then he smirks.  "And that does include Kian."
    And his eyes become full of mischief.  "Come on, let's find something to eat and I can tell you a few stories about Kían."