A Morning Surprise

Tales of Jaycynda Ashleana and her associates.

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PslyderFTA
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A Morning Surprise

Post by PslyderFTA » Mon Nov 23, 2009 7:37 pm

In the wan light, just before dawn, Pslyder detangled himself from her embrace, careful to make as little noise as was possible. Staring down from the tallest of Seaside’s towers, he smiled from the window, looking over the non-descript crate covered by a tarp, waiting in the courtyard below. As he’d expected, she’d dismissed the large box on her way in, distracted as she was by the thoughts he’d sent over their shared link.

Psly didn’t need to think about what was in the box. He knew. More intimately than any of his lovers, he knew. Every curve, every angle, every nut, bolt, and circuit, he knew. Every part, replaced as needed by his hand and his alone. He knew every nook and cranny, every hole repaired, every piece broken and remade whole. It was the oldest, and the only one that wasn’t built here. The very thing that brought him to Rhy’Din, though it wasn’t the reason. He’d never figured out the reason, not in all this time here.

It no longer mattered, not to him. With the light gaining intensity in the east, Psly garbed himself with a thought, and took the most expedient route down to the courtyard.

Through the window.

Landing with a slight grunt, he stood and walked over to the crate, peeling back the tarp. Another box rested on top of the crate, a small one, black, and flat, with one side a matte gray. Pressing his thumb to that side, a muted hum sounded, as greenish light flickered over his thumbprint. Identity confirmed.

One end of the crate lowered smoothly, touching down to the ground without a clatter, only the hiss of hydraulics. A pale fog drifted out of the crate, as inside, machinery moved and whirred, a rack sliding out to reveal the contents within. Hermetically sealed, preserved, and kept in perfect tune, it sat there on the rack, shaped so that it seemed to be moving, even as it remained still. A gorgeous blend of angles and curves, of ferroplastic and fiberglass, rubber and silicon, chrome and candy apple red.

Another hiss, and a soft clanking, as the rack set its burden down on the stones of the courtyard, rubber squeaking and shocks settling as the support moved away. Letting the crate reseal itself, Pslyder moved. A gentle caress, letting fingertips brush lightly against the paint, tracing idly over the glaring yellow lettering he’d put along the side, so very long ago. Fond memories played through his mind. Many ideas, come and gone, since he’d come here. Toying, experimenting, tweaking. Several models graced his showroom floor, all drawn from this, the progenitor of his fascination.

Reverently, he opened the canopy, checking the onboard electronics for signs of corrosion. Old habits died hard, even now. With equipment, always trust what you find for yourself, not what you believe is true. Phantom aches surfaced, as he remembered times and friends long gone, those who didn’t follow that credo, places where he himself was too pressed for time to do so.

Satisfied that everything was in the green, the tank full with fresh fuel, the tires showing no signs of wear or rot, he stood, dusting off his jeans. Leaving the canopy open wide, he leaned against the side of this, the most physical representation of his past life, waiting for her to join him outside. Even through the mental shields, he knew when she was stirring from sleep. A gentle touch of thought, directed at her.

“I’m down in the courtyard, Jaycy. Why don’t you get dressed and join me? And please, dress warmly.”

Moments later, Pslyder smiled as she emerged from the door, in her leathers and a thicker weight skirt blaring with a kaleidoscope of colors. Standing and moving away, so that the bright yellow lettering could be read clearly, he nodded. The lettering spelled “Thunderbucket”. He spoke then, his voice full of warm amusement.

“Jaycy? Would you care for a ride?”
A Learning Experience. Typical three-word preamble to a closed-casket funeral service.
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Jaycy Ashleana
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Post by Jaycy Ashleana » Mon Nov 23, 2009 11:30 pm

“Mmm,” she answered sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with the palms of both hands as she stepped closer. It took her a moment before the words registered and she grinned lazily at him. “A ride? Isn’t it a little …” Her words faded into the mist as green-gold gaze trailed down to the waiting bike.

She darted a glance to him, eyes wide with surprise, and her jaw gaped slightly. “Really?” She remembered this particular bike from their comingled memories. It was perhaps the most precious thing he had or would ever have. She remembered straddling it, clad in jeans and looking at the city in the distance. It wasn’t her memory, though, not really, and she felt a thrill of both anticipation and fear shoot up her spine at the idea of riding that bike for real.

He chuckled and folded his arms across his chest, smile widening a hint as the gypsy looked from him to the machine. “Yes, really.” His dark green gaze followed her hand as she inched in and extended her arm. Small calloused fingertips hovered over the word. Mere inches separated skin from paint. She turned her gaze up to him then slowly drew the hand away.

“She’s beautiful, love.” She equated his bike with her ship – worthy of compliments, loved and appreciated. She could sense deep within how he felt for this bike, and she basked momentarily in the fact that he liked her enough to be willing to share this with her. Suddenly, the gold in her eyes lit up and she grinned at him. “Give me a second, I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer, she scurried into the Manor once more. As she retreated he watched her, taking the time to appreciate the view.

***

He was leaning on the bike once more when she returned several long moments later. His brows lifted at the sight of her for she had changed. She strolled into the courtyard once more, a subtle sway to her hips as she moved in snug, flattering blue jeans. A dark blue cashmere sweater covered her upper body, hidden under a voluminous brown bomber jacket. Her hair remained in its single long braid down the center of her back.

Her right hand clutched at a strap that hung over her shoulder, keeping what was likely a backpack in place on her shoulder. She shrugged her left arm into the other strap as she hurried forward. “You know what I like about being alone with you?”

“What’s that?” He shifted, chuckling as she tried not to bounce with excitement on her way closer. She beamed up to him, almost skidding to a halt. “First, I don’t have to hear that damnable accent grating on my ears all day. Second, you call me by my name, and I love hearing you say it.”

He shook his head, but there was a smile on his face as he straightened from the bike and turned, quickly straddling it. She followed suit, though much more hesitantly than he did. “Alright, let’s go.” Behind his back, she slid a pair of mirrored shades over her eyes and then wrapped her arms around his waist.
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