Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Hurricane on 18-04-2009, 11:55:15</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>18-04-2009, 11:55:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The apartment in the barn loft had been empty for a long time.<br><br>Except for the ghosts.<br><br>Dan threw open the window shutters and stood staring at the rustic decor and the dust on the heavy wooden furniture, but it was the ghosts that really drew his attention.<br><br>Images of the day Cynthia had bought that floor lamp to put next to his heavy leather club chair. The paintings she'd insisted they buy on that trip to Cannon Beach. Even the spot on the kitchen counter where they'd made love after he sold that sculpture to the town.<br><br>"Ghosts," he thought. Echoes of the living "Like me." he said to himself. Not physically of course. Daniel Byrne was a corporal, mortal man - 6'1", 230 pounds, broad-shouldered. Sandy blond hair, dark blue eyes and, if his friends could be trusted, easy on the eyes.<br><br>Hell, he'd been good-looking enough to get Cynthia's attention that first night they met at the bar in town. And keep her attention long enough for her to marry him, and start building a life together.<br><br>But not enough to keep her attention it seemed. Not enough to keep her from cheating on him with his best friend - his partner in the small custom metalworks and motorcycle shop they'd opened together. Not enough to keep her alive. To keep both of them alive.<br><br>That ghost loomed largest of all. That night that she had broke the news to him. Dan remembered the rage, the hurt. His mind spun along the events: the conversation, the confrontation with Jerry, the fight. Well, not much of a fight - he'd shoved Jerry, Jerry punched him, he fell down and Cynthia jumped in-between them. He could still see the image of Jerry and Cyn riding out of the garage on Jerry's bike. The look on Jerry's face. What had it been? Shame? Sorrow? Maybe a little pity?<br><br>And then the ghosts of the call from the hospital. Learning about the crash. Identifying them both.<br><br>How do you go on living a life surrounded by ghosts? Dan had tried to get away. Closed the shop, and the apartment. Did some traveling. But he'd learned that you can't run from ghosts. They haunt you no matter where you go. Trying to hide had made him something of a ghost himself - only an echo of the person he once was.<br><br>The only way to lay them to rest was to confront them. Lay them to rest.<br><br>Or so he hoped.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Taymynx</strong> on <strong>20-04-2009, 09:16:35</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The picture window at the front of the gallery allowed the tourists an easy sampling of the colorful paintings and wood sculptures shown around the walls and on the tree stumps turned into display counters. <em><strong>Treise's Pieces </strong> </em> Art Gallery" was carved into thin pieces of wood mounted to cover neon-backed lighting while still allowing the colors to penetrate through sculpted pixies and dragonflies.&nbsp; <br><br>Track lighting was turned down soft at night for after the closed sign was flipped outward and Treise climbed the steep back stairs to her small studio. The bit of lighting had frequently turned Friday night dining tourists into Saturday morning art connoisseurs. <br><br>A tall, handcarved room divider broke the line of site between her jingling door chime and her cluttered work space. Though sculptures were one of her favorite types of projects, ir was more costly to create molds to replicate for sales to the tourists and much slower to sell. So, she usually worked in vibrant acrylic brush strokes combined with an airbrush technique that added a unique enough look to the numbered prints to provide a tolerable income.<br><br>Treise realized that she had been fortunate to have the deposits and business volume required to rent the space next to the only market in town as soon as old man Greer died and the Fish, Flies and Tobacco Shoppe no longer had a proprietor.<br><br>To say that Treise was a bit quirky would bring a smile to the lips of the regulars that frequented the Incredible Eatables Omelet House whose in door/outdoor tables sat across the street. Early on Monday morning, the regulars would congregate and chit chat about the week's takes and whether the people from Portland or California were the oddest, but when Treise was out of town at an Art Festival, somehow her eccentricities were pulled in as well.<br><br>It wasn't that everyone didn't like Treise. She was just odd. She either isolated herself for days working on a storm of pieces all at once, or seemed lacking in concern for even manning the gallery for sales, spending time at the eatery or in the magazine section of the grocery talking about muses and moods and disruptions and, well, cosmic forces on occasion.<br><br>Today was one of those days...She had come in to the restaurant, pieces of her long sandy brown hair braided and tied back to hold the cascade of natural soft curls which fell to her waist layering the farmer's overalls over lacy girlie camisole. She ignored the no shoes, no service sign and plopped herself down with a book on vortexes to read, bringing subdued smiles to Kate and John, owner and waiter.<br><br>Holding up 4 fingers, she motioned for them&nbsp; that today would be the spinach artichoke omelet, sans onions and homefries to keep her body energies balanced and with a healthy 4 ounce dose of vitamin C. She smiled. She was friendly enough...just more introspective than talkative...and turned her hazel flecked eyes to open her book to the dog-earred page. She pulled her reading glasses down off of the crown of her head and perched them on her faintly freckled nose, and then didn't come up for air until her breakfast was served.<br><br><br><br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>21-04-2009, 22:01:37</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Dan swung through the door of the Incredible Eatables Omelet House and glanced around. It had been a while since he'd shown his face downtown, but this morning seemed like as good a time as any.<br><br>He figured everybody knew the whole story by now. Or at least they thought they knew it. He could just imagine the thought process; "There's that guy that lost his wife. Lost a fight with the guy who took her. Lost his whole life when they&nbsp; both died in a motorcycle crash."<br><br>Could anybody sound more pathetic? Facing that synopsis had been part of the reason he'd vanished for a while. But that was part of this exercise. He smiled ruefully at himself as he thought, "I must Exorcise the ghosts of the lame."<br><br>It was moderately busy, all locals at this point in the season. He picked his way through the tables, meeting a few glances, nodding and smiling while trying to find a spot that wasn't too close to anybody in particular.<br><br>There was a table next to one striking girl near the back, and she appeared to have a big stack of books that were fully occupying her attention. In fact she didn't glance up at him at all. "Any port in a storm." he thought.<br><br>As he sat, he took a longer look at the girl and found himself smiling. It was quite a look she was going for; overalls, camisole, no shoes. But she seemed completely at ease and happy in her own skin.<br><br>"Well to hell with it." he thought smiling again as he stole glances at her. "If she can do it, so can I." 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Taymynx</strong> on <strong>22-04-2009, 01:16:31</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Treise was mostly oblivious to the stuff going on around her.&nbsp; It was the nature of her brain function: she could totally immerse and get lost in the search of her arts or curiosities and totally block out the people. Not that she couldn't deal with them easily enough. She just filtered them out unless she came up for air and chose to.&nbsp; It was one of the things that had earned her the town's attention when she was out and about...her lack of concern of her "image". <br><br>So, it was little surprise that she didn't notice the shuffling of chairs or comings and goings around her while she poured through her book on vortexes and wondered if they would enhance her artistic perceptions. There were supposed to be some very strong ones near Sedona in Arizona... Sedona...Arizona...Sedona...Arizona... Her mind silently and playfully flip flopped the names in a way that, if she had been prone at that moment to do aloud as happened on occasion, would have earned her another of those looks. <br><br>She was studying the gorgeous rich red rocks and and soils against the teals of the Sedona pictures when someone moved into her space and drug her attention back to the little restaurant. Looking up, she saw John with her omelet and orange juice and she smiled. She moved her books aside and let him set the yummy looking food down, warmly smiling at him with her eyes twinkling. Smiles always completely lit up her face. <br><br><strong>"Ah, perfect! I am starving!"</strong> she looked down at the plate in anticipation and back up at him. <br><br><strong>"Need anything else?" </strong> he knew the answer but asked anyways.&nbsp; She simply shook her head while she picked up her fork and started to attack the omelet. He slipped away, knowing not to be offended that her attention would so quickly switch from him to her food. Sometimes he wondered whether she did many things with the same passionate lack of inhibition that she ate with, but he never brought that up in the Monday morning chats while she was out of town. It was a question he speculated about in the back of his own mind, privately.<br><br>She had taken several eager bites before hearing a chair slide nearby and glancing up to see a very masculine looking blond man looking at her with obvious amusement. She smiled and tipped her orange juice in salute. This was not an unusual occurrence for her and she never felt offended. They were never unfriendly looks. Following a quick sip, she returned to her fork and omelet, picking out a succulent looking piece of artichoke and putting it into her mouth. She literally closed her eyes, briefly, while letting the taste explode in her mouth. Artichokes were so unique in taste and texture. She chewed slowly, but on swallowing, she felt his deep blue eyes penetrating her and glanced over again, to correctly see him still staring, looking somewhat bemused.<br><br>She wasn't shy. More introspective. She pointed her fork at the chair across from her.&nbsp; <strong> "Hi! You are new...to me at least... wanna come sit here? No point in sitting alone. My books can wait."</strong> She tilted her head and watched his face for a reply.<br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>22-04-2009, 08:41:55</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Dan was drawing genuine pleasure from watching this strange beauty enjoy her omelet when she surprised him with her offer to join her.<br><br>Casting a quick glance around the room he saw a few surprised faces and possibly a disapproving glance or two, though if they disapproved of him or her he couldn't quite tell. Well he was done hiding, and if they disapproved of her then maybe she was exactly the kind of company he needed.<br><br><strong>"You know, I'd love to."</strong> he said easily, and slid over to join her at the table.<br><br>Up close, it was easier to tell that he worked with his hands - they were strong and worn from labor and art, and his eyes crinkled more than he would have preferred at the corners.<br><br><strong>"Thanks for the invitation. So, what did I interrupt exactly? This is a lot of books for just breakfast. Or were you going to camp out and read them all day?"</strong> he smiled easily, hoping to break the ice with a little humor up front.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Taymynx</strong> on <strong>22-04-2009, 21:55:14</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Her laugh came spontaneously at his tease as she watched him move over. He was earthy and comfortable and had one of those gentle faces that contradicted the ruggedness of his size. She looked into his smiling eyes, happy lines at the corners, and her face broken out into a wider pleased smile. She sensed some other energy in him as well, more pensive, but let it go for later discovery. Intrigue..something to draw her interest back.<br><br><strong>"Actually, no, I probably don't need them all. But when I get caught up in a subject, I like to have several books on it so that I can flip back and forth for different perspectives. I don't like to be caught up in the rut of a single writer's world," </strong> she flipped the one she had been reading over so that he could see the title: <em>Vortexes and Hidden Creativity</em>.&nbsp; Her eyes went back to his to gauge his reaction. She knew that her off-the-beaten-track in spiritual adventures put many western traditionalists off. She didn't care, but liked to know who sat where for discussion opportunities. <br><br><strong>"I am an artist and am always looking for ways to enhance my creativity...or some unique concept that makes a recognizable statement," </strong> her explanation was long, but lighthearted, <strong>"to anyone whose spirit it touches."</strong> A statement of fact. No deep philosophical introduction of vortex beliefs to force her thoughts on his.&nbsp; She shrugged and used her fork to capture another bite of omelet.<br><br><strong>"Want a bite... while you...... wait for yours?" </strong> she swallowed part of her bite, <strong>"Grab your fork. I'll share,"&nbsp; </strong> her open smile spoke around chewing her food, but she was careful to move her fingertips to block the view. She again used her fork to point....this time at her spinach and artichoke omelet. Her eyes took in his weathered hands, large, but nimble...craftsman's hands. He reached across the aisle for his fork, and then glanced back up at her and she caught the deep blue of his eyes.&nbsp; Idly she wondered at the acrylic color mix it would require to replicate the shades and hues. They were wounded eyes, behind the smile. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>23-04-2009, 00:11:13</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Dan was swept up in the kindness of her simple acceptance, and happily found his fork. The omelet was a little light on ham and cheese for his taste, but so far you couldn't beat the ambiance.<br><br><strong>"So, what are Vortexes anyway?"</strong> he asked peering at the pile of books.<br><br>Somehow he knew that just watching this magical girl describe whatever was in this particular book would be the best thing that happened to him all day. He settled back to listen to her answer with a simple smile on his face, watching her animated reactions and expressions. For the first time in a long time, he was comfortable to just ~be~ without thinking about his own situation at all.<br><br>At the appropriate times he made the right noises and asked the right questions until he just had to interject <strong>"Miss you've been so kind to share your food and your table, and I never even asked your name."</strong><br><br>He presented his hand warmly <strong>"I'm Dan."</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Taymynx</strong> on <strong>29-04-2009, 13:47:21</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Treise met the dark blue eyes of the hulk of a man sitting across from her and immediately her hands when into full animation in answer of his question.<br><br><strong>"Well, you know tornados and the concept of them spinning"</strong> her right fork hand raised and spun the fork around her left hand, fingers pointing into a cone <strong>"a mix of airflows and temperatures wildly into a frenzy that meterologists stay on top of because of their destruction...</strong><br><br><strong>"Well , a vortex is where earth's energy, gravity and stuff, merges into the same sort of a spinning phenomina, lifting the energy but without the noticable destruction. Rather, the energy is thought to heal and potentially also enhance things like artistic talents" </strong> once started, her hands were dancing away with variations and contradictions as Treise merrily bounced across several of the differing vortex theories from her books. each grunt of acknowledgement or minor question the blond man asked made her go off on some new fascinating aspect that she had discovered. As she talked, she shared her omelet, noting his strong calloused hands that befitted a craftsman as he used his fork to whittle away bits of omelet with her.<br><br>By the time he thought to introduce himself, she was comfortable enough most would have thought that they had known each other for years, and she laughed merrily, took his offered hand and shoot it firmly.<strong> "I'm Treise...pronounce like Trace only with a hard e. I own the art gallery across the street...Treise's Pieces,"</strong>&nbsp; she smiled warmly, her eyes again engaging him, and then continued, <strong>"Nice to meet you, Dan!&nbsp; Your turn. What do you do around here. You certainly aren't a tourist, but I haven't seen you before."</strong><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>30-04-2009, 15:12:07</strong>
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				Her question had brought him back to the now.<br><br>Dan looked down briefly, composing his thoughts but mostly embarrassed. <br><br><em>"Get it together man."</em> he&nbsp; chided himself mentally. <em>"Now is not the time to go all overdramatic."</em><br><br>Looking up he smiled faintly <strong>"You may have seen my shop just off main street. Steel Dreams? it's a studio really. There's a retail front for, well for whatever I end up making and a machine shop in the back. But the place has been locked up for a while. I've been... taking a break."</strong><br><br>Then with a laugh he tried to change the subject <strong>"Triese's Pieces? Haha ok, I get it! Great name!"</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Taymynx</strong> on <strong>01-05-2009, 00:26:28</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She saw pain and embarrassment wash his face quickly and then he swallowed it. Her heart went out to him with it but she let it be. It was not her business.<br><br>Then she heard him admit to owning <em><strong>Steel Dreams</strong></em>...<br><br><strong>"<em>Steel Dreams</em>?"</strong> she genuinely clapped in delight, her heartbeat increasing as well. <strong>"You own <em><strong>Steel Dreams</strong></em>? God, I have been waiting to meet you!"</strong> she overdramatized the words to make a point, <strong>"You've been gone! You are home now?&nbsp; I have seen the sculpture in town..it is spectacular! But I wanted to see what else you do. I am sooooo excited!"</strong><br><br>She had heard a few things about his shop and knew that one of the town's sculptures was from there. She had also heard undertones about the owner. But she tried to avoid listening to undertones. They were the things that people said of her when she wasn't there...those little secrets about oddness or quirkiness. Life was too short for undertones. <br><br>Diners were turning to look at her. Her voice carried well after choir training as a kid. Too well sometimes. A few smiled. Some looked over at Dan in curiosity.&nbsp; Most knew the undertones that she ignored. <br><br><strong>"I wanna come see your shop sometime! Do you have any work there now? I am so happy to finally meet you!"</strong><br><br>If Dan had blushed before, it was nothing like the flush and embarrassed smile she saw wash across his face. In the back of her mind, the part that tried to control her social behaviour, she hoped that it wasn't a bad flush. But she couldn't stop smiling.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>01-05-2009, 03:58:19</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The smile felt great. A little out of practice maybe, but great nonetheless.<br><br>It seemed like a long time since anyone had been that enthusiastic about his work, least of all himself. But the prospect of showing this delightful girl around the shop filled him with... it was hard to describe really. Hope? Joy? Excitement?<br><br>Yeah, all of that stuff seemed right, and it made him smile all the more.<br><br><strong>"Well hey, for a fellow artist I'd be happy to roll out the red carpet and give you the cook's tour. Are you, maybe free after lunch?" I was just going to head over there and unlock the place and see what I could reclaim from the dust and the mice."</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Taymynx</strong> on <strong>01-05-2009, 06:41:59</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>"Ooooohh, red carpet and a cook's tour! Let me check my schedule..."</strong> her smile turned impish as she stood in place and leaned around to look out the large plate glass window to her shop across the street, and then flipped back around and flopped back into her seat, <strong>"Nope, no massive line of non-tourists lined up for off seasoned sales. My schedule's free...when do we go?"</strong><br><br>She joined into his laugh and started stacking her silver onto her now cleaned plate, downing the last of her orange juice, and sliding it all aside. <br><br><strong>"So, first, you are a tall man and a half a breakfast just might not cut it...are we waiting for an order for you and if so, tell me where you have been while you were gone... if it isn't personal."</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>01-05-2009, 14:17:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Tough questions.<br><br>Not the take-out part of course, and Dan explained that he'd already quietly motioned for the waitress to pack his breakfast in a styrofoam container to go. And paid for both of them as well, and he wasn't taking ~no~ for an answer!<br><br>In the clarity of the morning and in her company the ghosts seemed to disappear. It was like she blew them away with... it was hard to say. Sunshine? Good vibrations? Crazy theories about art and energy vortexes?<br><br>Whatever her magic power was, it was liberating. Dan pondered her question, asking himself <em>"How does one go about telling an absolutely charming girl ~I drove my wife away from me and she died in a motorcycle crash so I've put my life on hold to brood?~"</em><br><br><em>"Start with the facts."</em> he thought. <strong>"I decided to do a little traveling. I kind of wandered around the country for a while. Nowhere in particular. I kept heading for family and friends, but along the way I'd lose my steam. Drift off course."</strong><br><br>Trying to lighten the mood he added <strong>"Did you know that if you wander far enough you can find some really weird big things? I mean stuff like the world's biggest golf ball. Pez dispenser. Rubber band collection. Not profound sources of inspiration maybe, but hey - they sell some killer t-shirts."</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Taymynx</strong> on <strong>02-05-2009, 05:30:31</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Again she saw a sad hesitation cross his face, etching some pain around his eyes. He swallowed and pushed it aside, his smile more rueful but reassembled and much more open than when he first moved to her table.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"Sounds like you needed downtime," </strong> she nodded quietly, her smile softening, soothing, <strong>"I get that way. Get the life sucked out of me by something and can't find my muse so I have to run off and be introspective and regenerate."</strong>&nbsp; She nodded in understanding. <strong>"I was starting to feel that way recently. Kind of emptied. I usually start by trying to find some place to go that might regenerate me," </strong> She nodded her head towards the books, <strong>"if it doesn't clear up by the time I have read, I brainstorm actually going."</strong> She smiled again, and sighed, <strong>"and if it still doesn't clear...I take off and head that way."</strong><br><br>She stopped and her eyes got lost a moment. <strong>"My only family that I would have headed to who would have understood , my Grandma, passed away. I am a little too artsy for the rest of my family. But Grandma taught art. I loved to sit and watch her." </strong>She shrugged and let her loss drop from her eyes.<br><br><strong>"I always wanted to go look at all those weird things...things that some people put their heart into because others won't bother and, heck, someone has to do it....What was your favorite?"</strong> She met his eyes, hers twinkling once again.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dreams in Chrome and Steel (Hurricane/Taymynx)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hurricane</strong> on <strong>02-05-2009, 07:51:13</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Dan responded right away <strong>"I liked the Cadillac Henge. I'm sure it was more visually striking when the cars were first buried, but over the years everyone who has visited has left their mark on the cars. It's got a real sense of history and community."</strong><br><br>Escorting her to the door, he added <strong>"I'm sorry to hear about your Grandma. She sounds like one of those rare treasures. You know what I mean? The kind of person that really has a lasting impact on your life."</strong><br><br>Outside it was turning into a gloomy morning with threatening rain clouds overhead. <strong>"So you're at the book stage eh?"</strong> Hefting the book pile he laughed <strong>"And where are you plotting to make your escape to if these don't do the trick?"</strong>
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