Thursday, October 15, 2015
The pile of accumulated... things seemed never ending. Stoney sets down his load and shakes his head. Maybe it was the fact that Montenegro had travelled constantly, or perhaps just Gargoyle nature, but the sibs had never had that much personal stuff to store. He shakes his head again.
A strand of damp hair hangs limply against his neck. Pulling the tie from his long ponytail, Stoney reties his damp hair securely. Ob sets down his load and Stoney sighs.
The Rom Gar raises a brow. "What?"
"Your hair, it has grown some. Yet, I wish mine were... *comme la vôtre."
The multihued mass of waves now hung about three inches below the darker man's muscular shoulders. Ob had tied his back as well and the mass was as damp as his own. Both men look at Nick, and sigh, as the Vampyre sets down his own load. Ramji and Guunnar are close behind, each bearing several large boxes. Keon and Erik are halfway across what will be the play yard, dragging a long wooden box toward the group.
"Vy sigh? ^Vas ist los?" Guunnar tugs at Stoney's hair. "Du needst haff dein fair vife make braid. Wouldt stay neater. Like mein."
Ramji mutters something about Guunnar preening like a woman. The men try not to laugh at Guunnar as he draws himself up and raises his nose at his fellow Rider. The blonde giant smooths his moustache and puckers his lips.
"Vomen, dey like mensch who ist neat, nicht unkept."
Ob swallows his comment, instead answering the first question. "The sighs... we were just trying to figure out why we are all sweating, and Nick is... well..." He gestures to the Vampyre's dry appearance.
The men have forgotten the vampire's keen hearing. "Ït's a neat little effect of vamp physiology,"he grins. "My metabolism converts one hundred percent of my - fuel - into energy. It almost makes up for being dead."
There is a sudden squeal, cutting off further conversation. The men turn to find small bodies running pell mell across the clearing.
Tomas and Chloe are the first to reach the men. Their fathers easily pluck them from the air. The women follow the children, laughing as Chloe says, very loudly, "Da, you stink!"
Gracie covers her mouth with both hands, giiggling. Mera climbs up on the box and tugs at her father's hand until he sits next to her. She leans very close and whisper's in his tapered ear. Nick hides a grin and answers her inquiry very solemnly.
"No little one. I do not sleep in the box. We do not know what is in it."
Tomas laughs aloud. "No. He sleeps in the BATCAVE!"
Gracie pats Nick's leg until he looks down at her. She smiles sweetly into his blood red eyes. "My brother is ~yon estipid."
Nick blinks, unsure what to say. Gracie pats his leg again. "'Nou espere ke li ap grandi soti li lè se li ki pi gwo."
She turns and walks to Ramji, holding up her arms to be held. The Croation looks over her head at Nick and mouths, "She speaks Creole?"
^What is wrong?
'We hope he grows out of it when he is bigger.