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(no subject)

Who: IT'S A GAME MINGLE GET IN THE VAN
Broadcast: If you want!
Action: All of it!
When: Second half of the month.

[hey everyone! how's it been going? how's medieval-fun-time-world treating you? anyone pillaged and burned anything yet? got kicked out of the castle? been planning expeditions? registered for jousting? busy angsting for the last two weeks on your ship?

this is a mingle for everybody, whether they're hiding in the volcano, out and about in the city, or up on one of those random random stations where you can get quirky souvenirs.]

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[Rude! Mattias nearly falls over but catches himself at the last minute, swatting at the hand playfully.]

What! I was forming a word! Sort of. You should be proud! Or... [He sniffs.] ... Something similar.

[Fully righting himself, he gestures to Zhas.] Right, then. Tell me the next one.

[his hand is swatted away pretty easily. the physical interaction has made Mattias slightly more interesting than his crossbow, so he moves it to the blanket proper and turns more of his attention towards the other.

see? he's willing to forgive. he'll show him a couple more. C, D, E.]

[He seems positively enthralled to have Zhas' whole attention, following his now standard procedure. Practicing the signs first and then signing a word. Bead, this time, smiling proudly when he finishes.]

[that one isn't so bad. it's not "a sheep", at any rate, which means Zhas won't try to shove his face away again. he nods, slightly, instead.

he can run him through the rest of the alphabet, if Mattias can sit still long enough. Zhas is surprisingly patient when he doesn't think that something is annoying or useless.]

[And Mattias is a quick study when the information is interesting. And this? Very I-N-T-E-R-E-S-T-I-N-G. He signs it out, quicker now than before! Improvement so quickly. Still, a thought occurs. He leans forward.]

What about the punctuation?

[there are a lot of quick studies around here. it's refreshing, at the very least. doesn't stop him from giving Mattias a dry look and shaking his head. punctuation? what punctuation? he practically talks in shorthand, especially around Coil and Hange...

but it occurs to him to show him another sign. pressing his thumb and two fingers together quickly.] No.

[and what's essentially a nodding fist for:] Yes.

That doesn’t really answer the question. [Not that he seems to mind, wholly taken with the new gestures. He practices them, though he seems particularly amused by the nodding fist. To the point where he makes it talk, muttering from the side of his mouth in mock-ventriloquism.]

He-llo!

[The hand nods in greeting.]

[he, for a moment, considers punching Mattias' hand in the face.

but he doesn't. the dry stare lasts until his eyes glance down, and to the side, thinking--something occurs to him, and he starts digging through the pockets of his heavy coat for something.

it's a little book. the edges are yellow and soft with age. red cover, reads "ASL Dictionary". he holds it out towards Mattias.]

Be careful with this.

[Mattias isn't sure what he expects from his display of levity but it certainly isn't a book. Still, he accepts it gracefully, holding it like a treasure.]

Are you certain? [The pages are well-worn. He can see it from their edges. From the tearing of the binding and the whitened corners. Books speak their age easily and their love even more. Carefully, he brushes his fingers against the titles.] What does ASL mean?

Don't leave my sight with it.

[which, you know, if he ignores the question to talk a full sentence at him, that part is probably very important. he simmers back down, resting his back against the tree again, picking up one of the smaller mechanism parts from the blanket.]

American sign language.

"American"?

[A city, maybe? He doesn't wait for an answer before opening the book. He does so gingerly, running his fingers over the pages before he starts. Shifting his position, he sits with legs crossed, resting the book in his lap and practicing the gestures. Run, person, home, dance—whatever gestures catch his eye. He'll keep going until, finally, he finds something of immediate use. Tapping the ground in front of Zhas, he gestures "Thank you".]

Where I live.

[not actually true--he lived in Ireland, which is certainly not America, and he has not been back to the states for more than a couple of months at a time since then. nevermind how he uses the present tense when he's living up in a tin can in space...

he's obviously very comfortable with the silence. he trusts Mattias with his book... mostly because he's obviously a nerd (just like Coil), and they keep things like that super-nice. Coil always freaks out when he writes notes on the pages of things. there are some scribbled notes here and there, in fact--arrows that better clarify direction, additions like "fast down" or "twice".

tapping gets his attention. he watches what Mattias does, and easily gestures, "You're welcome" in response.

he leans forward, taps the ground in front of Mattias with his knuckles, and spells N-A-M-E. setting his tools back down, he makes a specific motion with both hands.]

Skeleton? That's your name? [He pulls back, looking quizzical.] A bit morbid, isn't it?

[But, well. If that's what he wants to go by Mattias can't protest. Instead he flips back to the alphabet, spelling out his name with slow, precise care. M-A-T-T-I-A-S. His last name is forgotten. Too much effort.]

[Zhas waits until Mattias has finished spelling out his name... to shake his head. he signs at him again, slowly.]

My name is z-h-a-s. [and then he specifically makes the sign for "Z", and gestures "skeleton" with it. it's combining a letter and a symbol. it's a nickname.]

Your name is m-a-t-t-i-a-s. [he takes the sign for "M" and uses it for the sign for "stone", or "rock", one of the two. that's his name now.]

[He flips through the book to find their meanings, signing "rock" back. Approval. Go with that one.

Then, he hesitates. Debates asking and then gives in.]

How... do you pronounce that?

[he stares at him, dully. he says nothing. seconds start to drag on in dead silence. it gets a little weird.

and then, without the slightest change in expression, he says:]

Mrock.

[(it is almost impossible to tell that he's kidding.)]

"Mrock".

[He says it flatly and it mirrors his own expression.]

Somehow, I doubt you pronounce Z-H-A-S "Mrock".

That's you.

[no, get it... it was a joke............. HE'S FUNNY.]

Zhas.

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