[Theo's Farm] As The Summer Evenings Grow (Seodai)

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke understood. He got it – he really did. And he understood the difficulty of transforming a . . . vision . . . an experience . . . into mere words. The Vantha were quite good at it, but still there were some things he had seen, or felt, or . . . known . . . that just couldn’t be captured. That was why he had his hands, when his lips and tongue could never do something justice. He nodded a bit, his cheek still on his knee. “All those things, and more. So much more. I would like to meet your goddess some day, but I think it will not happen. I think she saves herself for her special children – children such as you, Seodai.” His face turned to the dancing flames. “She has touched you with her beauty, you know? You are beautiful, and some day, I would like to try to carve that beauty into stone, or wood – or draw it perhaps.” Syllke’s head turned back to look at his companion once more. “If you would allow it. Though I’m not sure you would be willing to share that part of you which is Bala’s with anyone else.” Slowly, he uncurled himself and stretched luxuriantly, unfurling each arm over his head. Then he knelt before the fire, taking a half burnt twig in his fingers. With casual twists of his hand, he began to carve a pattern into the ash of the fire pit, something very similar to the tree that branched up and along Seodai's spine.

[Seodai]

It was a skeptical interest with which Seodai fixed Syllke. The farmer had never really paused to consider his attractiveness, but to have it connected to Bala and her beauty somehow? He wasn't so sure. Curiosity trumped those feelings, though, and soon Seo leaned forward, dusting his hands off as he attempted to see what it was that Syllke was drawing in the ashes. It was lovely, somehow, if a simple replication of a mark he could seldom see. It seemed a bit erroneous, but not because Syllke was doing it wrong. The branches seemed off because Seodai had the image emblazoned upon his uncle's back lodged in his mind, not his own. Theo, as often shirtless as his nephew, had a tree in even fuller bloom growing along his spine, too. Seodai had memorized every dip of every branch, even as a kid, and since he couldn't very well stare at his own, that is what was prominent in his mind. "You're an artist, then?" Seodai thought he had heard something about Vantha, something like that. It suddenly occurred to Seo that he might like to see his mark, drawn out where the distortion of water or glass didn't change it. Under the impression that the beauty Syllke referred to must mean his mark, Seo gave a quiet concession. "Bala's work is beautiful. You can do that. But... how would you carve Her mark into stone?" It obviously hadn't occurred to Seo that the Vantha might have meant all of him.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke shrugged indifferently. “An artist? Yes, I suppose. I like to . . . bring things to life. What I feel in my heart – what I see in my mind – I like to try to create those things with my hands. It’s very . . . satisfying.” When Seodai spoke again, Syllke turned his head quickly to look at the young farmer, his eyes glowing a darker red. “It wouldn’t be hard – not hard at all. It might take some time, though. I never know how quickly my heart will speak to my hands.” Fearing Seodai might take that as some implication that he would have to be available for extended posing, Syllke hurried on to assure him. “But I could begin with a quick sketch – tonight.” He hoped he was able to hide the excitement – the covetousness – in his voice. “And I can work off that, for a while.” His eyes went to the cyan tinged sky, and the low line of yellow on the horizon. “We would just have time – before the light goes.” His gaze went to his leather satchel which he had tossed aside. “I have some paper, and a charcoal stick.” His eyes turned back to Seodai’s face – the face that he wanted so badly. But that would come, maybe later. Tonight he could just concentrate on the gnosis mark. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice soft and encouraging.

[Seodai]

"Okay." Perhaps the Vantha had not expected such an easy agreement to come from the somewhat standoffish farmer, but there it was. He even gave a tiny, if a bit shy, smile. And then his big blue eyes turned back to the shape Syllke had created in the ash, his fingers reaching out to touch it. The sad thing, he thought, was that art was so fragile. A little brush of a fingertip and he had inadvertently and unintentionally ruined it. He could understand, in his own way, that drive to create. He saw it in empty fields before planting. The vast potential, the capability to work and carve something beautiful into nothignness, the satisfaction of blooming plants and of the bounty of harvest. He felt that. "Can I see it?" he said, asking the obvious, as he turned away from the warmth of the fire and the smell of their dinner again. His hands were dirtied now, like feet that had become bare. Seo didn't seem to mind. "How do you want me?" He'd never done anything like this before. Ever. He'd have been lying if he had said it wasn't at least a little bit exciting.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke wrinkled his brow in thought, making a kind of lopsided gesture with his lips, as he looked at Seodai. They were practically face to face at this point, and finally Syllke raised his hand and twirled his index finger around, upside down. “Can you turn around? And maybe . . . stretch out, on your side? Facing away from me.” He wanted the last bit of light he had to work with to catch the mark and illuminate its details. He might have asked Seodai to kneel, but that would get uncomfortable very quickly. At least this way, the mark should be mostly visible – which made Syllke think . . . Seodai shrugged, nodded a bit and then turned about. Letting his model find a comfortable position, Syllke hopped to his feet and retrieved his satchel. He had forgotten that he still had the blue feather tucked behind his ear, until bending down for the bag it fell off and fluttered to the ground. Grabbing it up, Syllke tucked it behind his ear again, then rustled in the bag, withdrawing first a sheet of paper and then a stick of very hard charcoal. Two steps brought him back to the fire, where Seodai now stretched out, his back almost glowing with the last ten minutes of the evening sunlight. Somewhat awkwardly, he looked over his shoulder at Syllke. “That’s great.” Syllke said, sitting cross legged behind him, but at the level of his feet, so he would not block the light. For the third time that day, he scrutinised the goddess’ mark, the swirling design of trunk and limbs and branches, his eyes running several times over it, and each time coming to what seemed like an unnatural and hostile road block at the waist band of Seodai’s trousers. Knowing he shouldn’t, but knowing also that he must – or have a sketch that was only partially correct – he asked in a steady voice, unembarrassed by his own question, “Can you pull the waist of your trousers down so I can see all of it?”

[Seodai]

The position was awkward enough, it was. Almost fetal, curled on his side so, it felt terribly vulnerable, and to a stranger. Seodai wasn't terribly untrusting, but it was uncomfortable, staring into the flames he had created. His thoughts began to wander as he heard Syllke moving around behind him, though the settling behind him was enough to cause him to glance up, over the curve of a bare shoulder. "Okay," he mumbled in response to the reassurance that he was doing it right. And everything might have been alright, had it proceeded thus. But Syllke spoke again, causing Seo to bolt upright. "What?" he sputtered. When Syllke, seemingly nonplussed by the whole thing, explained that he couldn't see all of the mark because of them, Seo softened. Just a little. "Oh." There was a loaded moment where Seo didn't deny nor acquiesce, merely stared at the blank pad and considered. And finally, with no small measure of awkwardness, he reached down to his belt. "Uncle will never let me live this down, if he comes before you've finished." Seodai flushed a brilliant pink as he undid his trousers and then, with a wary glance back to Syllke, rolled aside again. He nudged them down a few inches and tried to adopt his prior pose. Evidently he had not moved them enough, for he felt a little tug on the fabric that made him feel as if his entire ass were hanging out. In fact, it was not so. He was scarcely inappropriate, but it felt much worse. "This... is weird," he laughed into his own arm, awkward and uncertain as he lay, trying to be still.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke wasn’t surprised or taken aback in the least by Seodai’s reaction. People were funny when it came to their bodies, he knew this. Personally, he had little inherent modesty about his own, and he was absolutely fascinated by others – all the infinite combinations of curve and plains, lines and angles – young, old, beautiful, ugly, smooth and wrinkled. It was rare that he had seen a naked body of any kind, and then not always for artistic purposes, but he thought it quite a pity that so much opportunity was lost, so much potential artistic life left quiescent in the media which longed to be called forth into being. So when Seodai rose up, Syllke was prepared to accept the young man’s refusal – but not without at least an attempt at explanation. And as his would-be model cogitated upon that simple but truthful reason underlying his request, Syllke waited, patiently. An uncomfortable model was apt to somehow broadcast their negativity to his hands. He often found himself tossing a barely begun piece aside, knowing it was already somehow tainted. So it would be either willing, or it would not be. Capturing two thirds of the tree would have to suffice, if that was Seodai’s decision. When after a long moment, Seodai’s fingers went to his belt, Syllke nodded philosophically. “I’ll try to be quick.” He said simply. Waiting for Seodai to settle himself back in basically the same position, though a bit more on his stomach this time. Syllke made no observation or request nor gave any instruction, but reached out and tugged a bit on the material, revealing the last half inch of roots. Satisfied, Syllke began to rapidly sketch the lines, his hand moving with a fluid grace as eye communicated with brain and then fingers. “It’s beautiful.” He said softly in reply to Seodai’s awkwardness. “Like your goddess, from what you’ve said about her.” Hoping that remark might put his model at ease, and relax the stiff line of shoulder and back, Syllke tilted his head to the side, his fingertips soon blackening with the charcoal. With the basic outline finished, he went to fill in each leaf and fruit, and eventually he rose to his knees and leaned forward in the failing light. He was almost done. In his mind he saw the stone under his hand, the shape of Seodai’s back, the curve of the dip where back ran into his bottom. At the side of the sketch of the gnosis mark, Syllke quickly began a smaller, fleeting work of flowing lines, trying to capture what he so much wanted. Knowing the light was all but gone, with a sigh he laid the paper aside, stretching out his hand to gently touch Seodai’s back, running his fingers over that dip and up, from roots towards the top of Bala’s tree of life.

[Seodai]

It would have been impossible to fall asleep like that, so exposed to the eyes of a stranger. But, as i were, the art took long enough that Seodai's muscles could not maintain the awkward tenseness they had began the sitting with and so soon he had relaxed into the familiar embrace of dirt below. His mind drifted, a million thoughts and one flitting through his mind as he stared into the fire. Were it not for the quiet shuffle behind him, he may have forgotten what kept him fixed there, like a statue. Disconnected from reality as he was, Seodai didn't realize that the Vantha had given up. He didn't recognize the shifting of legs and the noise of the pad being put aside. It was the brushing of those fingers against his bare skin that first caught his attention. The fascination of fire, glowing blue at its hottest point, then becoming something much brighter as it consumed the branches he had fed it, fell away. His most initial reaction was a shiver, the immediate rising of gooseflesh. And then he tensed, muscles tightening beneath those wandering fingers by the time they had reached the apex of the tree, between his shoulder blades. Seodai had mellowed out too much to be incredibly jumpy, it seemed, and so instead he rolled towards his stomach entirely. There, pushed up on elbows, he gazed up at the artist. With apparently no intention of scolding him, he merely fixed the other man with an open, curious express. What was that all about? his handsome face said. "Finished?" his voice intoned, otherwise.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke felt the muscles beneath the smooth skin tense, and he almost ceased his exploration. But even Seodai’s more than likely rejection of being touched was not enough to halt his fingers as they traced over those branching limbs. So much of what he did was so integrally enmeshed in his sense of touch, the nerve endings in his finger tips and palms, that it was next to impossible for Syllke to create – to bring to life – without touching that which inspired him. His perception was spatial – three dimensional, and not merely experienced with the eye. The fact that Seodai did not jump up and storm off, or look at him like he was some sort of freak, or yell in protest, allowed Syllke to feel that much more through the pads on the tips of his digits. When he reached the place between Seodai’s shoulder blades, his fingers rested there, lightly, feeling the warmth of life mingling with the life represented by the tree. He could feel the rise and fall of Seodai’s back – it was like sensing the pulse of the ocean when he had traveled to Denval by sea. He could feel the force of life – of being – within the young farmer. And his fingers would remember and somehow bring that same force out of the stone that he would carve. Within a heartbeat, Seodai had raised up on his elbows, but still he made no direct protest. His quiet inquiry, brought a equally quiet response from the artist, whose hand lingered but a brief moment longer. He had seen the question in Seodai’s beautiful face, now half golden in the light of the dancing flames, and half in shadow. “Yes, I am done, for this evening. My fingers will remember you now. Thank you – for not telling me to quit.” His hand went to Seodai’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, his dark eyes with their shifting colors looking into Seodai’s lighter ones. Reaching to his ear, he pulled the feather from where it lay twined into his long, dark hair. Gently he then tucked it behind Seodai’s ear. “Thank you,” he repeated, with a smile. “For all of this day. Grapes. Melons. Bala. You have taught me much. And given me more, Seodai.” One slender finger touched a blonde curl lightly, pulling it out the smallest bit before letting it slide back into place. “Nice.” Syllke said, grinning. He rose to his feet, freeing his shirt from around his waist and pulling it haphazardly over his head. Picking up his things, he slung the satchel over his shoulder. “I owe you dinner now,” he said brightly. “And if you come to the Lyceum, I can work some more on the carving. If you like.” He nodded. “Good night, Seodai.” LE FIN

[Legion]

Thread Award Sylke Skills Drawing – 3 Gardening – 2 Observation – 2 Persuasion – 1 Storytelling - 2 Lores Knowledge of Theo’s Farm Knowledge of Bala’s Gnosis Seodai Skills Agriculture – 1 Gardening – 1 Observation – 2 Seduction – 2 Socialization – 3 Lores Hospitality Posing for Art Comment Well written thread, y’all. I’m pretty sure Seo never has his clothes on. (Not that I’m complaining.) Keep up the good work and feel free to PM me with any questions or concerns regarding your thread award.