Closed [The Suren Cliffs] Watch Your Step! (Eoin)

[Lander]

513 AV, 40th Day of Summer

Lander looked over the edge of one of the fifteen foot cliffs, eyeing the water below. "Jump! Come on!" one of the girls shouted up at him, flashing a flirtatious smile. He'd attracted a pair of twins, and couldn't seem to shake them. He wasn't even interested, they were so homely that it made him shiver. And they just wouldn't take a petching hint. Really, they couldn't even be considered hints. He'd been glaring at them all afternoon, even swam over to another group for a while. They'd just followed along, giggling and splashing and sadly, not drowning. He sighed and ran both hands through his wet hair, sweeping it back and away from his face, then squinted up at the sun, shading his eyes. Syna was at the apex of her climb at the top of the sky.

"Hurry up!" the other called, but he ignored her. Sea cows. It was a very hot day, and rather windy. Someone had actually been blown off one of the taller cliffs, but luckily hadn't hit any rocks on the way down. One of the stronger swimmers had gone after them and pulled them from the water before they drowned. Belly flopping had knocked them senses, and it'd been a close call. Lander didn't dare go to any of the rock shelves higher than this one. He wasn't all that good of a swimmer, even when the air was still and the water was calm. "Are you chicken?" Lander glared back down at the twins, sending them into a fit of giggles and whispers. "For the love of Gods," he grumbled, then shouted down to them, "Out of the way!"

He backed up a few steps, stopping when the warm, pink wall of stone brushed his back. Ivy leaves tickled his shoulders, and he was careful not to step on the Areen blooms growing from the cracks in the rock, wagging in the wind. It was always a little nerve wracking, those moments before throwing himself off the cliffs. No matter how many times he did it, it seemed like it would always make his stomach clench, and his heart skip. But it was still exhilarating. Lander screwed his eyes shut, took two long strides, and jumped. The fall whisked the breath from his lungs, and he landed with a clumsy splash.

Water rushed up his nose and down his throat, and he quickly paddled up for air. When his head broke the surface, he coughed out several mouthfuls of sea water, sputtering and splashing as he wiped the salt from his eyes and spit the tastes from his mouth. "Oh, the poor dear," one of the twins crooned, touching his shoulder, while the second flanked his other side. Surrounded. Lander coughed violently, glaring at the two of them. "I'm fine, you can leave me alone," he rasped as he turned to doggy paddle back toward the cliffs. A low stone shelf jutted out of the water, creating the perfect spot to sit and still keep one's legs in the water.

He braced his elbows up on this, kicking with his legs to get his weight up on it to where he could pull himself up. Splashing behind him made him aware that they'd followed. He rolled his bloodshot eyes, wiping them furiously. "We were worried for a tick," they gushed. "You could have drowned, are you sure you're alright?" Lander swept his hair back again, combing it with his fingers. He spit some salty saliva onto the wet rock beside him. "Yes, perfect. Just need to get the taste out of my mouth. Why don't you go try it? I'm sure you'd be fine." Fine away from me.

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[Eoin]

oocSorry for the delay!

Rubbing the charcoal, a gentle breath brushed across the page, ridding its surface of the resulting fallout. A gaze, green as the surrounding forestry, lifted to take in the jagged edges of the cliffside. Naturally, one understood that shadow oppose the light, and the two must coexist, yet this was somehow not obvious to the Avora resting against the tree. It was not until he had taken shade to canvas that the rounded nature of all objects was made apparent. Regardless of which edge faced the radiance of Lady Syna, there was still shadow. One could never be rid of the dark, no matter the depth of light. A more introspective creature would have apply this to himself, but Eoin was not such an example. Even now he could not understand the calm that sketching brought, and why the simple act of observance and interpretation was able to clear his demons of their familiar haunt.


It had been several bells since he first sat down, long before any of the more aquatically skilled Inarta made use of the cliffs' suiting height. They were not much of a bother, despite the occasional splash or rowdiness, for Eoin allowed little else aside from his current task to steal his focus. This was, at the moment, to finish carving shadows into rock. His eyes traced the dark areas, reducing them to familiar shapes before returning to the page. A rectangular shape here with a curved triangle, a fang almost, and then a squished semicircle attached to the other side. It was methodical, yes, but it was how he saw the world. Even without peering into his mind, another could sense the rigidity and order of the young cook's life. The lines on the page were almost unnaturally straight, though otherwise very accurately portrayed, with little hint of bias. At most, one could see more detail than they would normally notice in the landscape, such as the wrapping of sun around leaves and the mark left by the water's retreat. It was realistic, but rather flat, clearly the work of an amateur. Despite this, Eoin paid an incredulous amount of attention just on one protruding rock, scrapping charcoal only to rub away any mistakes with a finger a tick later. He was using one side of the stick, unintentionally sharpening the end to a useful point as he added a wash of shadow. Then, with a finger he would roughly mark the lightened areas before repeating the process, reducing the size each time. With the tip, he would then follow the image before him, copying the designs as best he could. It was repetitive, but enjoyable. Though the Avora began the hobby with the intent of applying what he learned to his profession, he found himself outside more often than ever, his tools close at hand.


It was strange for him, to indulge.

Half a bell later, Eoin finally began on the winding flowers that grew persistently from the rock. Fortunately, he was not too far away to see the outline of the Areen, its tapering petals and the brilliant variety of colours. Briefly, he was disappointed to see the grayscale of his sketch, but reminded himself that colour would add another dimension of complexity that he as a novice, was not ready for. The paints would have to sit unused for now. And though nothing obstructed his view, most of the Suren's visitors would wonder why they had not spotted the quiet Inarta earlier.

[Lander]

The girls looked at him speculatively, as if seriously considering this. Then they burst into flirtatious giggles. It grated his ears, setting his teeth on edge. "Oh, no! We couldn't. Climbing is the easy part, but jumping?" They looked at each other, then burst into another round of giggles, like Lander's suggestion was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. His heart sank, when he realized he'd have to get rid of them the good old fashioned way. He smiled at them, though it was a brittle expression, barely passable as a sign of any real pleasure. "That's alright," he ground out. "We can find somet-" Suddenly, he gasped and pointed to the waters behind them. "Look! A hawk is diving for fish!" The girls smiled, delighted and excited, and whipped around in the water, eager to watch. But there was nothing.

It took them a few long moments to figure this out. They looked and looked, then looked some more, mumbling in confusion to each other. "There! No... that's a branch in the water. Wait! I see- No..." It gave Lander enough time. Quietly, he slipped back into the water behind them, and submerged himself under. His eyes burned when he opened them, but he rapidly blinked away the pain. They'd be red and irritated, but it'd be worth it. He kicked off the rock shelf behind him, giving him momentum to dive a little deeper and out of sight. Lander looked up to see their feet kicking overhead, keeping them afloat. He glared then turned away, quickly paddling off to find a nearby hiding place. He felt like he was swimming to save his sanity. If those two found him again, he'd scream.

In the wall of rock he found a small pocket, like a column had been eaten away from the stone. It went about fifteen feet up, to a stone shelf for jumping. It acted as a sort of chute, or tube. Lander came up out of the water in this little pocket, inhaling deeply and wiping the water from his face and eyes. He shook her head, sending droplets spattering onto the stone from his mop of wet hair. "Shyke," he mumbled, exasperated from having to flee. He relaxed for several chimes, listening to the sound of splashes and voices at play. Once he'd caught his breath, he turned his attention to the stone chute climbing upward. It was uneven and pocketed from the years of seawater and rain beating against it. The perfect ladder, really. Or so he hoped.

Lander examined the rock nearest to him, feeling for handholds under the waterline as well as looking for ones above. He took his time, trying to chart out what route he could try. The most obvious, easiest looking handholds were his main target. Carefully, he grabbed a lip in the stone overhead, and braced his feet in two uneven ridges, holding on with his toes. His heartbeat accelerated automatically, and he looked up at the foliage blowing in the wind at the edges of the opening overhead. If he fell... Lander quickly shook that thought out of his head. Imagining busting his head open on these stones wasn't going to help. He pulled himself up higher, until only his legs from the knee down were still in the water. Slowly, he felt for higher footholds, bracing his right inside an odd hole, and not finding anything for his left.

He searched upward with hesitant fingers, flinching when he felt a vine, and automatically thinking snake. He looked at it, then smiled, breathing a sigh of relief. "Idiot," he chastened himself. He hated snakes. He was able to find some awkward handholds and shimmy higher. The next seven or so feet were a cake walk, and he slipped into a steady pace. Grab, step, pull - grab, step pull. Then he came up short. Lander searched the stones above him for something, anything, but found nothing that a climber of his skill could manage. "Shyke," he hissed. Carefully, as if in slow motion, he climbed to his right, where the stones were still obvious. It was an awkward shimmy, and his heart was in his throat. Water slapped the rough rock below him, echoing in the chute and shaking his nerves like a bird pecking at the back of his head.

If he tipped backwards or slipped, this stone tube was too narrow for him to not break his skull against the wall on the way down. But he managed to steady himself and swarm higher, closing the distance between himself and the opening in several more chimes. He was sweating with the effort, and there was no cool breeze in the cramped rocks. Lander stopped to wipe first one hand then the other on some dried grass growing in the side of the rock before he continued. Finally, he made it to the top. He grunted and cussed with the effort of pulling himself up and out onto the wide stone ledge. He grabbed the hardy plants growing there for some support, wiggled his way up onto his elbows, then rolled out and onto his back, right onto the flower Eoin was so carefully drawing.

Lander laid there on his back, smiling with relief and catching his breath. He ran both hands down his face, then through his hair, and sighed.

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