xp_logs | August 12: Terry and Kylun and a spontaneous picnic

Terry has a Cunning Plan that involves kidnapping one of her teachers and throwing things at him. Kylun has a belated birthday present and odd TV-watching habits. They do not, however, fight crime.

They were finishing up their weekly session when Terry unexpectedly played at quick run on the piano and spun to face Kylun. "What are you doing today? Anything important? Alison cancelled my piano lesson so I have some free time." She'd asked for the cancellation, actually and was reasonably certain that Kylun wasn't busy either. Like a lawyer, Terry preferred questions she knew the answer to.

"Nothing I could not easily postpone," Kylun replied curiously. "Did you have something in mind?"

Terry grinned and nodded, "Do you trust me when I say it'll be fun or you want a better explanation than that?" She'd already contracted a picnic lunch from the kitchen--though she owed someone a favor now and she still wasn't sure which of the three it was.

"Hmm." Kylun pretended to mull this over, furrowing his brow and hiding his smile in his fur. "I am sure, given time, that I could call to mind a proverb about the wisdom of trusting redheaded Irish girls with a propensity for mischief. Seven thousand years of proverbs are helpful that way."

Terry affected the most innocent look she could manage then laughed, "My Uncle Tom used to say if you meet a red-haired woman, you'll meet a crowd. I don't think he quite knew what he meant by that but it sounds promising, does it not?"

"That depends entirely on the crowd, I would think." Kylun grinned at her, inclining his head. "I place myself entirely in your hands. My order is, after all, known for its courage."

"Great! Meet me in the garage in ten minutes? We're going into town." That would give her plenty of time to run to the kitchen and grab her backpack from her room. There wasn't a particular reason she'd planned this outing. It just seemed like fun.

"The garage." Kylun frowned slightly. ". . . May you drive, then? I know that the laws require a certain age, but I do not remember what it is, and I, well--" He held up one callused hand, flexing the fingers quizzically. "I'm afraid the art continues to escape me."

Terry nodded, "No problem. Fully licensed driver and everything." She resisted the urge to do as she'd done to Bobby, pulling out her wallet for proof. "You can get a license once you're 16. I've had my license for a year."

"I will be there," Kylun confirmed with a wave of his own. However frustrated he was at his consistently poor driving--and it was extremely irritating to be defeated time and time again when he could see it was simply a matter of retraining his usually excellent reflexes--it was impossible not to be caught up in Terry's sunny enthusiasm.

Terry was as good as her word, dashing into the garage exactly ten minutes later with her backpack on her shoulder and her long red hair tugged through a baseball cap. She was already clutching the keys to one of the safe, sensible cars provided for student use and headed toward that one, giving the flashier cars only a brief longing look.

Kylun pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning against, walking over to meet Terry with a wry smile for her obvious yearning. "If I had permission to use those cars myself . . ." He shrugged. "Perhaps another day. Am I allowed to know where we are going yet?"

"Into town," she repeated, unlocking the car doors and tumbling into the driver's seat. The backpack was slung into the back seat. She fussed for a moment with seat and the mirrors then spent several more finding radio station she wanted to listen to. "How often do you practice driving?" she asked cheerfully, changing the subject.

"Not as often as I should, perhaps," Kylun confessed. He wrinkled his nose. "I do not like the smell of the garage, you see. The gasoline, and the oil, and the rubber, and the exhaust--we had none of these things at the monastery, and even in the nearest town cars were not allowed. I am finding it difficult to adjust."

Terry sighed, "Yeah, I know. I miss the green sometimes. It's not really ever green like home here." She handled the car competently, with none of the jerkiness of a new driver or the bravado of a young one showing off. "Every time I think I'm used to it, I'll go for a run or something and I'll find myself daydreaming about home. Then I wake up and remember it's not really home anymore."

"Everything is so different here that it is easy for me to bury those feelings," Kylun said thoughtfully. "Or--not bury them, precisely, but get so absorbed in the new things that I do not have the opportunity to think about my old life." He sighed. "I have thought of going back--there are some books at the monastery that would be helpful when I begin my philosophy course again, this fall--but I spent enough time there alone, before Scott and the others arrived to bring me here. That is not how I want to remember the place."

"I haven't been back in years. Sometimes I wonder if I just am making it up. If it's really not what I remember at all." Terry shrugged and was silent for a bit as she drove into town. No need to go very far for this trip. Just a low key day.

"The Hindus, and some Buddhists, believe in maya, which is the idea that the world we see is only an illusion born of our own self-deception." Kylun flashed an apologetic smile for the sudden dive into philosophy. "My order did not subscribe to that belief, but it is my thought that what the heart remembers can often be more true than what the eye sees. The beauty of your home will live on in you no matter what happens to its physical reality."

Terry smiled at hi, "Aye, I suppose so. It's only when I'm afraid that I'm losing the memory that I worry." The drive to Salem Center was a short one and Terry turned her attention to parking at the small but pretty community park. It was warm but still early enough in the day that the heat wasn't yet oppressive. "Do you play frisbee?"

"Frisbee." Kylun thought for a moment. "Ah, with the plastic disc? I have not yet, but it looks simple enough, and I have wanted to try."

Terry grinned and reached into the backseat to grab her bag then hopped out of the car. "It's great fun. But first, picnic, the reward of all hard working teachers is food." She waved him to follow her and darted off to set up camp beneath an old oak.

"And I already know I like food. This is an excellent plan you have put together." Kylun grinned. "Clearly, your teachers are doing well by you. May I help set up?"

Terry laughed and dumped out the contents of her bag, Tupperware bumping out onto the ground followed by a short wrapped stack of plates, plasticware and napkins. "It's not fancy." With his help, she set everything upright and got the lids off. She'd only brought water for them not being a soda fan herself.

"I grew up on a hundred different recipes for rice and sheep," Kylun said wryly. "Simple will be just fine." He shot her a speculative look. "Your birthday is gone these past several days now . . ."

She nodded and handed him a plate with a sandwich on it and a bag of chips. "Aye, the sixth." She spread mustard on her own sandwich and arranged the tomatoes to her liking.

Kylun crunched the chips happily. He'd discovered potato chips early and developed something of a taste for them. When his mouth was empty, he continued. "Well . . . I do not want to go against custom, and I am still not entirely sure how these things are done here. But if it is not too late for such things, I have something for you, for your birthday." He smiled sheepishly. "It is a small thing, and I did not know how it would compare to the other gifts that made you so happy. But if you would like it now, I have it here."

Terry blinked for a moment then beamed, "Another present? Of course I want it! I love presents!" She bounced in place, setting down her sandwich and clapping her hands together, "What is it?"

"That will take some explanation." He took a small rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper out of his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. "You will likely not be surprised to hear that Alison and I have spoken about you. I have also asked her about the organization of music in this country, because I was curious about your path." He gave her a serious look. "I know that it is not my place to decide when you are ready to make your demo tape and ascend to the ranks of the professional musicians. That is Alison's right as your teacher, and I will not presume. But I have heard you sing." He handed her the package with a shy smile. "I think that day cannot be far off, and I wanted to make sure you had a tape to use. The shopkeeper said that this one is of very high quality, suitable for the occasion."

Terry took the package and held it in her hands for a moment processing what he'd just said, translating it through her Kylun filter and coming up with what he thought he was giving her. She laughed and flung herself across the intervening space between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him and exuberant kiss on the cheek before falling away. "Aren't yeh just the most wonderful man then!" She unwrapped the gift quickly and smiled at the professional quality tape he'd given her, trying to figure out how to explain to him what the recording industry was actually like and how little they cared about demo tapes. "I'm not planning on being a professional musician, yeh know. I just play about."

Relaxing at her obvious pleasure in the gift, Kylun tilted his head curiously. "Are you not following in Alison's footsteps, then? She is your teacher, so I thought--but things are likely different here."

Terry thought about it as she resettled herself with the tape in her lap. "Alison is a musician. And she's phenomenal. I just like music." She smiled with a modest little nod of her head. "But mostly Alison was lucky. She got picked up at the right time, managed the right way and was different enough for it to work. Demo tapes...they're for the people with no connection and no way to get discovered. Record companies receive thousands everyday and they mostly get ignored." Covering the tape with one hand, "But this...means a lot. I'd not have considered myself at all ready to even try."

"Ah." Kylun thought about that, then snorted. "I feel very foolish now. For this, and--I watched the American Idol program once a few weeks ago, and grew very angry at the contestants' teachers for sending them out so unprepared that the judges could not even cushion their rejection. I should have realized these things would be different as well." He smiled at her. "I am glad that you saw the meaning of the gift, even through my mistake. I think you are very talented, and whatever you choose to do, you will excel."

Terry laughed, "American Idol...yeah, that's a good comparison. Demo tapes are like Idol. Tons of dross and little gold. And Simon is the record industry--image, voice, salability and no, get out if you don't measure up." She grinned, "If I did get a record contract, I'd be better than 90% of the people in the industry. But only the top 2% matter. I'd rather be a cop and make a difference."

Kylun nodded. "There is great honor in bringing beauty into the world, but there is just as much in giving it justice." He grinned back. "And as I am certain you will keep your music as a hobby, you will have the best of both, which is exactly as it should be."

Terry flung her arms out expressively, "I want everything. I want justice and fame and the moon and stars." She laughed again and reached into her backpack once more. "And I want to play Frisbee. Are you done eating?"

Kylun laughed. "Fine ambitions all, especially the last." He swallowed his last chip, took a quick gulp of water, and stood. "Show me this Frisbee, then."