8076/The Wild Blue Yonder

The Wild Blue Yonder
Date of Scene:	29 September 2021
Location:	Kyshan: Kian's Estate
Synopsis:	Terry learns to fly. Kian gets a few things out of his system.
Cast of Characters:	Kian, Terry O'Neil

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Kian has posed:
    There's really only so much explanation Kían can give, standing there on a balcony with what is really an inadequate rail—by non-flyer standards, anyway.  His parents have returned to their home: the boys are expected in the evening for a celebration of Kían's return.  Gar went to get some air and clear his head, which is fair enough, it's been quite a day, and Kían's sister has gone to look for him, she says to point out further Akiár wildlife to him, but really probably to embarrass her little brother further.
    Which leaves Kían and Terry, and the wingset that Terry has yet to use.
    Really, Kían wants to see this too.
    "The kirát will make sure you do not fall; if you lose control it will jus' take over an' either bring you back here, or set you on the groun'.  It iss responsive to subtle shoulder movemen's.  You do not haf to try to force them to work, more jus' trus' them to work.  Jus' do this firs', yis?"
    Kían raises both wings and brings them down, lifting himself about a meter off the floor.  "Jus' like that."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    The feline nods slowly, trying to clear his head in order to pay attention to everything.  Bereft of his ability to generate rabbit holes, he really has to be careful about how he uses those wings.  He is, after all, only technically immortal.  Half of him, anyways.
    "Right… so… extension…" and there they go, the wings begin to raise.  "And… flap!"
    Flap.  Terry lifts himself, and blinks a he does so.  "Am I… imagining things?  I feel… lighter."

Kian has posed:
    "You are lighter, Eart' has more gravity than Kyshan.  Not much, but enough to notice."  Kían grins.  "I hope to play some qihár while we're here.  I know I am faster than I was, from spendin' the las' yeah an' a half in heavier gravity."
    He smiles broadly.  So far, so good.  "Now there are two ways to do the nex' thing.  I woul' jus' angle my wings an'—" and he brings his wings down and launches himself a meter up and three forward, "—but it will be easier for you to jus' lean forward a little."  He demonstrates, and it looks kind of like he's just beginning to bow to someone, then his wings come down again and produce almost exactly the same flight: a meter up and three forward.
    "Try that."
    It might be noticed that Kían sounds much more confident—surrounded by the familiar, he's not questioning everything he says and does anymore.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Okay, so like a bow, except that you kind of shoot forward…" the Cheshire cat muses, and he does his best to replicate the movement as best he can.  He is not aware of the mindport—why should he be?  After all, humans are not telepaths, and Kían has no reason to believe the port would pick up a human mind.
    Except that Terry wasn't, exactly, human right now, and the fact that he had depleted himself so thoroughly of magic meant that right now, he was a bit a magical sinkhole as his soul desperately sought to refuel itself.  All ambient magic was being syphoned at an unusually high speed, just as his own internal reserve worked overtime to replenish himself.  This meant that, right now, there were things about Terry that were not part of his usual self.  One of those things being an increased ability to project certain things.  And not gracefully so.  Kían might receive the very faint impression of an impulse, a desire to fly, desperately-
    Which is the same thing that the mindport receives.  And takes it as an instruction.
    "Like thi-WHOA!"
    The wings flap.  Boy, do the flap.  Far from the measured and cautious attempt that Kían suggested, Terry shoots off at an angle, upward.

Kian has posed:
    Kían was right—he is fast.  A practiced flick of his wings and a telepathic command to the control systems means Terry is safely caught before he can slam into the ceiling.  "Nnh.  I did not think the mindport could sense you, but it can, at leas' a little.  I know you wan' to fly, and you know you wan' to fly, but the wingset does not know you do not know how yet."
    He kisses the tip of Terry's nose and drops them to a delicate landing on the balcony.  "But, you haf jus' flown on your own for the firs' time," he says proudly.  "You jus' need to it somewhere between full speed and stop."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry closed his eyes, certain that his life was going to end with him becoming a chandelier on the ceiling, but fortunately he is caught in time and deposited safely on the ground, exhaling a little in relief.
    "Wa… how did it sense me?" the Cheshire asks, looking over his shoulder at the wingframe with more than a little suspicion.  Once the surprise of it all has passed, he turns to face Kían and widens his eyes slightly.  "…you are right, though.  I flew!  For… about two seconds.  So… if this is picking up my mind, shuld I do some visualization exercises or something like that before I end up hugging a tree at three hundred miles per hour?"

Kian has posed:
    "You would not hit a tree any faster than about…"  Kían calculates mentally a moment.  "…forty miles an hour.  The wingset iss not that fast an' you are heavier than an average Akiár," he says, apparently quite seriously.  "I think maybe it iss the same way I can touch your mind when I touch you; the wingbase systems are in contac' wit' you, so it can 'hear' your mind.  Maybe only when you think very loudly… which you do, a lot, tenár'h.  Bein' subtle iss not one of your strong poin's.  I haf instruc' the kirát to take that into accoun', that might help."
    He takes Terry by the shoulders, and faces him outwards, toward the open.  "However," he says, "there will be more time to correc' anythin' you are doin' wrong if you do it out there an' are not half a secon' from bein' a ceilin' decoration.  So maybe this will help."
    Again, Kían hops into the air effortlessly and just hovers there, only just off the ground, and places both his hands on Terry's shoulders, linking minds so the cat can feel what it's like to have that kind of control.
    And then Kían is away, out off the balcony, just hanging there.  "Well?"
    If Terry looks over the edge, it's 50 or 60 meters to the ground.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    You only live once—or so he has been told.  Terry glances down and seems mostly unaffected—Being a parkouring cat means you are often looking at places from a long way up—and without a safety net.  Whatever nerves he has, they are assuaged by the fact that Kían is there, and he trusts that Kían will not let him fall.
    Much.
    "Alright… so let's give this a go," he says, trying to hold on to the sensaiton that Kían broadcasted—that sensation of control.  A deep breath and a centering, the way Leonardo taught him, and then there is the first attempt.
    He hops into the air, and at first it seems he's gotten it down quite well!  "Hey!  I'm hoveri-" hovering is too generous a word, as alittude and orientaiton start varying wildly.  He goes to the side, then to the other, then he rises some more, before finally letitng himself drop onto the ground—and stumbles ever so slightly before he regains his balance.
    "That wasn't too bad!"  A pause, and a self-assessment.  "Ish."

Kian has posed:
    "Very good, actually, since you haf not been raise from birt' to expec' to fly some day.  When I was little before my wings grew in, if I was carried somewhere, I pay attention to what my chal was doin', feelin' it in their min's, sensin' for myse'f how to control wings I did not even haf yet."
    Kían is still hovering there, only about five meters out, and he really does look pleased as he drifts back another five meters.  "Lean forward an' flap, an' jus' hold your wings out an' glide to me."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Alright… alright.  I can do this."
    He takes a moment to center himself and gets off the ground.  It is a shaky start at first, but he does eventually manage to get himself into the right balance to slowly glide forward, arms extended.  His gymnastic training has given him the right core strength to keep his legs properly aligned, so they're not just dangling there, and it does make a difference.  Cautiously, floating over the abyss, he tentatively approaches Kían.
    "I think I..  I think I-"

Kian has posed:
    Kían flicks the kirát an instruction to "assist" subtly—not take over, just smooth out some of the movements, and for pity's sake not to let on that it's doing it.
    It's a slow glide, but it's a proper glide, And Kían is there at the end of it to catch Terry.  "Keep hoverin', I'm just a temporary stop, there's a lot more sky for you to play in.  When I let go, bring your wings down hard an' jus' go up."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry gulps for a second, holding on to Kían.  "…and you're sure I'll just… you know, go up?" he says, taking a good look at their surroundings.
    His body is a mixture of excitement and fear, now that there is truly nothing beneath him and he knows his powers can't save him.  His conscious trust in Kían still can't outstrip the power of instinct, and although he is controlling his lower body, his feline half wants to flail his legs every which way in an instinctive search for purchase.
    But he doesn't do it.  Because there's nothing there.  There is air.  On which he is gliding.  His hands give Kíans' a squeeze.

Kian has posed:
    Kían can't help but laugh.  "Yis, of course, that iss the direction you are pointin'!"
    He draws closer, still smiling broadly.  There are things not to mention, like the fact that Terry is the first non-Akiár to take to their skies—Gar has had a First Flight, he doesn't count as non-Akiár anymore.  That's very much the kind of thought that makes someone go "Wait, what?" and lose their concentration.
    "An' this time, you can go up fast if you want, there is no ceiling to hit."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    As long as he is not in immediate danger of becoming Ceiling Cat, Terry relaxes a little.  Just a little.  Kían wouldn't smile if something were wrong, after all, and Terry finds himself lulled by his confidence.  "Alright… well, then, let's see…."
    He glances upwards, and he manages to smile a little despite himself as a thought comes to him.
    "All you need is faith, trust… and a little pixie dust."  There is one wave of his hand, and the obligatory glitter is emitted before he tightens up his form, takes a deep breath, and says "And straight on 'til morning!"
    And off he goes, going upwards, arms stuck fast at his sides.

Kian has posed:
    Kían zooms along after, making a wide spiral around Terry as he goes up.  "Trus', wings, an' a little practice, at leas'," he replies, although it's a little tricky to hear over the rush of wind.  Maybe that's why they're telepaths, so they don't have to shout at each other in flight.  "An' morning iss that way!"
    Someone's not au courant on either Earth literature or Disney cartoons yet.
    "Come on, level out an' follow me!"
    The ground is an awfully long ways away, but the wingset is secure and Kían is so sure of the situation.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    A year and a half ago, Terry's biggest worry was being able to keep his internship at the Planet and find some leads as to what had happened to his father.  Today, it is trying to level out so that he can follow his winged alien lover and fly on a borrowed wing-set while suspended in mid-air over an alien planet's soil.  Taking stock of where you started can sometimes put things into perspective.  A few weeks ago, he had been in Tartarus.
    Slowly, he starts to level out, at first moving with exaggeraed caution, and then little by little with a smidge more confidence than before.  Falling from a great height seemed to be the most mundane thing that could happen to him now, after all, and by far the least threatening when everything was taken into consideration.
    'Well!  After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs!  How brave they'll all think me at home!'
    The words come into his head unbidden, and he can almost picture the little girl saying them, too.  He grins, then, and narrows his eyes.
    "Alright, then… lead the way!"
    And off he goes.  Wobbily, with hesitation, but off he goes.

Kian has posed:
    The birdman sets a leisurely pace.  Trying to go too fast, or engage in complicated aerobatics, isn't going to be educational.  You have to be able to fly befor you can skydance.
    He cants his wings slightly, and slides to the left, then back again.  "Try that," Kían calls back encouragingly.
    "Unless you only ever wan' to fly in a straight line," he adds with a definite laugh.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "I do nothing in straight lines," comes the predictable answer.  After a few seconds of hesitation, he follows suit and finds himself sliding to the left.  Then, cautiously, back again.
    "…you know, Superman doesn't need wings to fly.  I wonder if that's even harder than this.  Like… what does he actually fly with?" he asks himself, as he is wont to do when his mind needs to defuse his nerves.  "Does he… fly powered by… gas?"
    Okay.  That mental image was something he didn't need.  He lets out a giggle.

Kian has posed:
    "I haf no idea how any of the non-winged ones fly," Kían says.  "I jus try not to think about it because it makes my head hurt."
    And then he pulls up into a hover and turns to face the north.  "Ai, c'Rhys'yw."  He does not sound happy.  "Do you think you can handle a hover or should I haf the kirát take over?  Aéla q'rhysát is coming and I can not avoid her now.  I tol' the house system to only tell me when frien's an' family were tryin' to contac' me… so it did not tell me she was comin'."
    Doesn't sound like he wants to talk to her.  At all.
    She pulls up into a hover, smiling broadly.  "Kié, Kían k'Rhyták!  Akh—"
    "Kían t'Káeh," Kían corrects her sharply.
    She may or may not have heard him.  She's definitely staring at Terry.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    The Cheshire cat manages himself into a hover, "Don't worry about me, that much I can muster for myself!" he says.  Truthfully, he had started to feel better, slightly less dry throughout their flight, and he has to wonder about that.  But he doesn't have much time to think about it when Aéla makes her appearance.
     It's clear how Kían feels about meeting Aéla, so Terry makes sure that he grins to the full extent of his Cheshire nature.  It is a very impressive grin and it has its own type of Mona Lisa quality to it—it always seems to either be one hair away from breaking into a hearty cackle… or a snarl.
    "Greetings and Salutations," he says, knowing full well that Aéla will not understand his language, but nevertheless he puts as much of a purring inflection in it as he can without sounding like a crackling hearth.  And, because he feels one must try to make an impression, a myriad of twinkling little lights blink in and out of existence around him like an army of fireflies.  At first, he is apprehensive that the illusion will not work, but when it comes into existence his grin widens (yes, that's possible!) at the realization that, however slowly, his magic was coming back.
    

Kian has posed:
    Kían does not admonish Terry even mildly for his display, even though it caused Aéla to back away a little.  It's entirely possible he didn't admonish Terry because it caused her to back off a little.
    There is some back-and-forth in what Terry has called "Kianese"… and unfortunately, Kían can't get within arm's reach while both he and Terry are flying, in order to give Terry the translations.  "Nnh.  I can not leave you out of this, tenár'h.  I will put you in the safety carry and as soon as we are done with her, we will get back to enjoyin' ourselfs… an' iss your rhy'thar comin' back already?"
    Aéla definitely blinked at each of the two words in there she would understand, although it's hard to say which one she found more shocking.
    Kían expertly slips up close and gathers Terry into the carry, and pivots so they can both face the priestess.  «Yes, I called him tenár,» Kían says sharply.  This is not the gentle and polite Kían that everyone's used to.  «And yes, I know, he doesn't have wings of his own and he has fur and he has a tail.  I managed to discover all that on my own, you don't need to remind me.»  There's a definite sense that Kían doesn't think he needs to worry about her feelings about this at all.
    «This is… somewhat irregular, Rhyták'h.»
    Kían actually laughs.  «I've gotten kind of used to irregular.  And call me Kían, don't call me… that.»

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "I believe they are," he says.  And, just to show off, he holds a hand in front of him.  A glowing, purple ball appears nestled in it.  Not the biggest construct, but it's something.  Even if no-one else can tell that it's a whisper away from simply disintegrating, except Terry… it's a good sign.  Keeping his eyes on the priestess, he turns his hand over and lets the ball drop, and releases the magic.  The construct vanishes in a shower of purple sparks that look the way glitter would, if you set fire to it.
    «I sense a hint of disapproval, Aéla,» the cat sends, his expression remains that same strange crossover of Sphinx and Cheshire.  «This puzzles me.  Kían tenár has spoken to me at great length about how accepting and open-minded people in his homeworld were.  I would be ever so heart-broken to find out that it was merely absence that was making his heart grow fonder, for I have found Kían to be the most wonderfully reliable and even-keeled person up to this point!»

Kian has posed:
    «I… it isn't my place to approve or disapprove of the Rhy… of Kían's partner choices,» Aéla says in a way that perfectly communicates her disapproval, even while she stares at the purple sparkles.  The mental tone probably will remind Terry of a nun or two at his high school, and not one of the cool ones.
    «And yet, you do anyway,» Kían says.  «I know I was made Rhyták after the way I disappeared from Flight 442.  Well, it wasn't a miracle, I wasn't collected by the Gods, you can undo the declaration now.»
    «We cannot revoke your status, Rh… Kían.  You have a responsibility to your planet and to your people.»
    «You say so.  I'm not responsible for what you want.»  Kían's tone is genuinely icy—Terry has never heard him like this before.
    «The Gods say so!» Aéla asserts.
    Kían tightens his grip on Terry.  «When They tell me that Themselves, then I'll accept that.»

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    «My dear Aéla» Terry's mind-voice, dripping and oh-so-feline tone, comes through.  «It is very interesting that you should speak of the gods.  You see, I have met the gods.  Several of them.  Quite a few of them are friends.  Kían has met them as well, and not one has made demands upon him outside of friendship.»
    Jade eyes meet her gaze, unblinking in that way that felines intent on winning a staring competition can be.  «But perhaps you doubt my words.  Perhaps, as some theologians back on Earth have said, seeing is believing.  In that case, perhaps I can share examples of such gods as we both have met?  Surely upon seeing them, you will know the veracity of my words?»
    He holds his hand forth and makes an internal push-
    And yes!  A rabbit hole appears.
    It is a small one.  No larger than his head, but it is nevertheless there.  He extends his hand in order for it to emerge near a Rabbit Hole right by Aéla, his palm upturned and his fingers spread in the universal gesture of offering for someone to take your hand.
    «I believe the experience may be enlightening.»

Kian has posed:
    Aéla backs up about three meters from the disembodied paw.
    «If you dare say kherhýs I will personally carry you off my estate and forbid you ever returning, or communicating with me ever again.  If you dare even think it, I'll do the same thing.  That's his rhy'thar.»
    Aéla stares at the hole, and the hand.  «But—»
    Kían's aura flashes out brightly.  «But what?  His world is different from ours.  If he doesn't make sense to you, you can believe I didn't make sense to them when I first arrived on their world.  I don't know how many other ways I can say it, Aéla.  I don't want to be pointed at, I don't want to preside over your rites and rituals, I have more important things to do with my life than that.»

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    «Like me.» Terry says, withdrawing his hand and closing the Rabbit Hole.
    Yes, he is fully aware of what he said, and is completely unapologetic.
    «Do you want to enslave Kían to what you think his life is to be?  I have met gods, have spoken with them.  I have even gone to battle against one of them—with Kían by my side.  Believe me… if the gods decide to oppose what Kían decides to do, they will let him know.  Have they spoken yet?»

Kian has posed:
    What Aéla wants to say, and what she can't quite keep out of her active thoughts, is that no one has ever spoken to her like that before.
    «Maybe it's about time someone did,» Kían says.  «Let me ask you this, Aéla.  If I am a Rhyták… who are you to tell me I'm wrong?»
    Before she says anything, Kían adds, «And if I'm not, who are you to tell me I have to pretend to be one anyway?»
    She hovers there mutely.  She's thinking, obviously, but she as obviously isn't coming up with any easy answers.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    «He has the infuriating tendency to be reasonable when provoked, doesn't he?» Terry asks with no small amount of amusement.  «Welcome to the background radiation of my life.  And that was even before introducing him to Epicurus' riddle.»
    He doesn't mention what that riddle is.  One crisis of faith per day is enough, he thinks, for the high priestess.  «Aéla, Kían has gone farther than any of you have.  He has seen things you can't even fathom.  He has helped save a world from alien invasion by a hostile army at least… three times.»
    He pauses and glances at Kían, «Three times?  Or four?  Do the Shi'ar count or was that more of a—never mind.  We'll go with three to be conservative»
    He glances back to the priestess.  «He has grown.  His metaphorical wingspread is wider.  Does it make sense to confine him?  It seems to me you're willing to follow the will of the gods only if that will happens to be in accordance with what you wish for it to be.  Are you truly serving the gods… or yourself?»
    This is what a resentful Catholic school has unleashed upon the world.  It is, perhaps, the element of haughtiness that Aéla shares with the nuns that is forcing his mind into a fine, sharpened point.  He is not yelling, like his fight with Kate, so he is making progress!

Kian has posed:
    «I don't feel very reasonable right now, tenár'h.  I feel annoyed.  I've been dealing with the priests and priestesses ever since my rhy'thar appeared, and…»  Kían sighs heavily.  «…and I'm really tired of it.  I didn't get accepted into the Imperial University because I'm a genius.  I got in because they wanted to study me and letting me take classes there was their excuse.  Aéla, you don't want me to be a Rhyták because I've demonstrated any theological brilliance, you just want me to be one because you can't explain what I am otherwise.»
    He finally gets around to getting rid of his blue glow.  «When Terry tenár'h gets his rhy'thar back, I'm going back to Earth with him and Gar tenár'h.  Because the only thing they and their planet want me to be is Kían.»
    Aéla is very quiet for a while.  Kían has obviously had this simmering away on the back burner for quite some time, and this is the first time he's really let it all out, and she had the misfortune to be the one to turn the heat up.  «But you'll come back.»
    «For my friends and family, and as long as it's not a strain on Terry.  It's his rhy'thar that brought me here; I can't take an Akiár ship.  I am Akiár, I'm not an Earther like Gar and Terry are, I will never not be Akiár, and I believe in our Gods… but I don't have to be here to do that.  And I can promise you, the more you try to make me stay, the less of me you will ever have.»

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    «This is something for which you have been rendered completely unprepared by the simple fact that your planet has no cats.» Terry observes.  «On Earth, there is a saying that trying to accomplish a nigh-impossible task is akin to herding cats.  You may draw your conclusion about the nature of cats—such as myself—from that, but the principle applies here as well.  If you try to curtail Kían….»
    He does his best approximation of a shrug under the current conditions.  «It will not go well for you.  And I know you can't get him to do something on which he has made up his mind.»
    «Are you certain you do not wish to look?  Many things will make sense, if you do.» He offers a hand, but doesn't use the Rabbit Hole. 

Kian has posed:
    "You shoul' not, Terry.  It might knock her out of the sky, an' I do not wan' that," he says sincerely.  "You do haf to be prepared for, not jus' dropped on someone."  He grins, and impulsively kisses Terry's cheek.  "I haf had practice."
    He returns his attention to Aéla.  «However,» he says, reverting to his own language… and then very gently opens a mental channel routing just a little Vorpal-mind to hers, just a taste.
    Kían's concerns about aerial stability appear to have been well-founded—she staggers and rights herself.  «Gods above and within—!  Are all that world's minds like that?  It's a good thing they don't have the ki'thar!»
    «No, Terry is… special.»  There are multiple layers of meaning to that word.  Kían sighs.  «Look, Aéla, I don't want to be mad at you, and maybe you just happened to be the person who picked at a raw spot one time too many.  I will grant that I can't make you or the whole hierarchy unmake me a Rhyták.  But no one, not you, not anyone else, can tell me what I have to do as one.  Now that my family knows I'm alive and well, I can return to where I'm needed rather than just wanted.  Nothing threatens you here; Earth… isn't like that.  I have friends there and if something happened to any of them because I stayed here to be pointed at and poked at, I couldn't live with myself.  And with Terry and Gar, I have family there too.»

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry does get a kick of seeing how his mind affects others.  If anything, it vindicates Sister Agnes' assertion that his was a dangerous mind.
    Oh, if only she knew.
    «Besides,» Terry says casually, «you will have a bit of a hard time thinking of Kían in the terms of Rhyták once you have seen him make this absolutely adorable noise that he makes when you use your tongue to-»
    A cat unleashed is a dangerous thing, is the takeaway lesson for Kían's people.

Kian has posed:
    If Terry was hoping to shock her… well, Akiár religious authorities are entirely not the same as Earth religious authorities.  «I'd imagine he enjoys that a great deal.  My husbands do,» Aéla remarks, without much interest.  «Are avatars on your world not expected to have normal lives outside their religious tasks?  Kían is… nnh.  Kían is right about the expectations we made about his time, but we would have never expected him to ignore Raká, or you, or the other one.»  She's no nun, that's for sure, and sex isn't going to shock her.
    "Gar," Kían supplies.
    «Yes, him.»  It's Aéla's turn to sigh heavily.  «You know how rare rhy'thar'yw are, Kían.  I… maybe we assumed too much.  You do deserve your own life too, although I wish you would have it here.»  She glances at Terry.  «Not that we can stop you from going away again.»
    Kían smiles very slightly.  «I can promise you, I'm not giving up on my world and my people.  I'm just needed more elsewhere now.»

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    «It's not as if he can't visit or spend vacations here, you know.» Terry interjects.  «In my world, offspring often set off to distant parts of the planet to make their lives.  Leaving the nest, they call it… leaving the nest» he says, not unaware of how funny this is.  «Those who have good relationships often come back for the holidays or vacation.  Gar will probably come more often, since he can take on the shape of your people and can communicate with greater ease than I can…» he waves a hand, and Gar-as-Akiár appears before him, as an illusion.  And then, he morphs back into his usual self.  «Most of the time he looks like this.  When he's not being another animal.  Or trying to look like me to tease me.» The illusion vanishes.
    «I don't think it'd be a wise thing for me to make mental contact with your people on a larger scale.  Kían informs me that I am… as an Eath saying goes, a strong cup of coffee.  Not that it makes any sense in this situation, because coffee sends your people to sleep whereas it makes my peo…»
    He trails off.  And then, slowly he turns his face to Kían.
    «I've got it.  Chocolate.»

Kian has posed:
    "They don't know what chocolate is, tenár'h," Kían says… and after a pause, adds, "…yet."  That's an oversight Kían is already planning on correcting.
    «That world sounds completely weird,» Aéla says after a moment.
    «I do keep telling them that,» Kían replies, smirking.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    «It isn't nearly as strange as the rest of the universe.» Terry says with a smirk, «I shall have to tell you about Wonderland one of these days.  Or about the universe inside the singularity where we were lost for three months.  Oh Earth is positively pedestrian by comparison.»

Kian has posed:
    «You forgot to mention the underworld,» Kían adds casually.  «Although all you're doing is saying there are other weird places, not that Earth isn't itself weird.  If you'll excuse us, Aéla, I was teaching Terry how to fly.  I'll be in touch before I go back to Earth.»
    Aéla bows in mid-air—it's possible, and she does it easily.  «I will… try to prepare the hierarchy to expect you to return to Eart'.  Thank you for your time… Rhyták'h.»  With a flick of her wings, she heads off back the direction she came from.
    Kían listens for the notification from the estate systems that she's left, and loosens his grip a little on Terry so that he can hover for himself again, but he does not let go of his hands.  "Now, tenár'h, you haf been thinkin' of this thing you call the 'mile high club'," he says, slowly tugging Terry upwards, "an' I can not understan' why you would stop at only a mile…."