[COLOR=GRAY][INDENT][INDENT]Most of the campsite was set up by the time the pair arrived. Tad quickly barked orders to Lorcán and Aurora for their parts in constructing this year’s trial. It was the inclusion of sharing a tent for the night that received a double take from Lorcán. A shiver of anticipation and excitement went down Lorcán’s spine as she struggled to maintain a straight face so as not to alarm Aurora with his eagerness or enthusiasm for the night to come.

[color=#8ecdb7]“Looks like you’re stuck with me,”[/color]

[color=#fe650d]“Of all the grom luck,”[/color] Lorcán mockingly groaned with a smirk. He and Aurora had fallen asleep together many times on the beach though he couldn’t say he had ever intentionally tried to share a bunk or otherwise with her. It was probably best to approach the situation at hand with as little overthinking as possible.

[color=#8ecdb7]“I’m going to go and find Haven, she’s probably wondering where I am and why I’m not helping her yet,”[/color] Aurora stated, interrupting Lorcán’s spiralling thoughts as his molten eyes looked down into her shimmering blues. He absently reached for her hand before stopping himself.

[i][color=#fe650d]Why did he always stop himself?[/color][/i]

[color=#8ecdb7]“We'll talk later!”[/color]

Talking was good, they were good at talking. They had just spent the last five kilometres talking. If there was anyone on this island that Lorcán could talk to it was Aurora. But sleeping in a tent with her…

[i][color=#fe650d]…Did I even pack pajamas?[/color][/i] 

Lorcán had to stop and think for a second. In his head, he had always been bunking with Rory or Gil. He didn’t think about needing anything more than a pair of boxers to sleep in and already that was generous as both of the other boys had found out on one occasion or another. 

Giving his head a shake, Lorcán stifled a laugh at a memory recalling the first time that Rory had discovered Lorcán preferred the buff to boxers at night. It, after all, wasn’t every night that you walked out to the kitchen to not only discover your new roommate drinking directly from the carton but doing so while hanging brain.

The following morning was accompanied by a discussion on boundaries and the importance of glasses.  

He watched Blackjack move about going to their respective tasks and smiled fondly. The last three years had built a lot of memories and though he wouldn’t allow himself to voice it out loud, Lorcán knew that he’d miss the island and its predictability. With a sad smile, he followed Aurora’s lead and moved to join his group, walking towards the pair of dark-haired individuals as the trio moved to the construction site.[/INDENT][/INDENT][CENTER][COLOR=#AC0D01][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5504477][img]https://i.imgur.com/mHQGrul.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=#E64C09][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Southern Plateau[/I] - [I]Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#E64C09][b]Welcome Home #1.075:[/b][/COLOR] [I]I Want to Reconcile the Violence[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=#AC0D01][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][INDENT][sub][color=#E64C09][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I][@Melissa] - Aurora Mitchell, [@Rockette] - Amma Cahors[/i][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#E64C09][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]I've Been Talking With A Ghost[/I][/right][/SUP]
[indent]While some people loved the smell of a book, Lorcán loved the smell of a freshly printed standard D-size drawing as it was unfolded and placed in front of him. The twenty-four by thirty-six-inch piece of paper illustrated the supporting structure that would serve the Trial’s construction in creating both the outside illusion of a giant hedge maze and the interior simulation of whatever theme Harper and Calli landed on.

Perfectly chosen line weights and hatches illustrated how each piece of steel was to be cut and installed as Lorcán mulled over the plans, admiring Robert’s attention to detail.

Looking over the plans one last time with a whistle of admiration, Lorcán turned his attention to the work in front of him. Thankfully in addition to Rory and Amma, there were members from other senior teams assigned to different quadrants but there was still more than enough work in front of them. 

That didn’t mean they didn’t have time to chat though.

[color=#fe650d]“Did you see my arm, brah?”[/color] Lorcán asked Amma, breaking the silence as he passed the plans along for her and Rory to take a look. [color=#fe650d]“You inspired me.”[/color] He elaborated, pointing to the three-quarter sleeve along his right arm. 

His ember-like eyes watched the girl before speaking again. He had never truly realized just how much ink covered her body. Numerous skulls and insects, birds and tentacles, each directing and guiding the eyes to a different location.

[color=#fe650d]“You were right about one thing,”[/color] He smiled, [color=#fe650d]“It did hurt, every single one.”[/color] He added with a smug shrug. Macho didn’t suit him, he didn’t really understand what was prompting him to thump his chest and holler like this. There was just something about being around Amma which always made Lorcán feel like he needed to impress her. 

[color=#fe650d]“But after a while, it just burned and really, what’s a burn to me.”[/color]

He carefully watched those icy blue eyes, anticipating the words out of her full, pale, lips. There was an approval that he was desperate to win, despite not knowing why.

She is a perceptive creature, and in every instance, she observes with a sort of aloof detachment whilst simultaneously gathering every ounce of detail and nuances possessed by human nature. From the careful browse of his eyes attempting to decipher the depths of her stare, to the accent of his speech that pings curiously on her ears with every drawl of timbre, from the corded muscle through the arm he displays. The accentuation of gray and black is appealing against the bronze of his skin, how she never noticed before alludes to her, much like the way his words strike a cord within her that is entirely foreign and yet... not.

[color=#b4a7d6]"Oh, really now?"[/color] Her voice whisper-soft as she recalls the memory from a year prior. That waspish need to assert herself within an established team, to introduce her impression as one of sensuality and power; the same sort of power that thrummed through her with a sort of hyper-awareness when he looked at her. He, who was the first one to introduce himself, spoke to her, the first to crest the cautious exterior she had erected the first time she stepped onto the island. Looking at him now, and carefully so, she notes that his hair is much shorter than it had been before. A shame, she thinks.

It is a time that suddenly seems so far away.

Amma lifts one careful gesture, palm up, curiosity splayed through her fingers.

[color=#b4a7d6]"Pain like that is different from anything else I've known."[/color] She can't break the soft plume of laughter that works its way free then, tinged in the finest touches of something akin to sadness. [color=#b4a7d6]"But you're right, what is a burn to you - Lorcán."[/color]

His name is effortless through her lips, and Amma finds she doesn't much mind the way it settles against both tongue and teeth. It's probably the first moment she has ever uttered such, and the realization colors her eyes bright in icy fissures that collide through her stare. "Nice lines," she observes. Her lashes sweep low and without much hesitation, she clasps her palm against his forearm, using the motion to view both wyvern and Phoenix inked into his incredibly warm skin. It almost burns against her flesh, spiraling through the length of her fingers and hand much like a serpent of flame suddenly looping thrice around her wrist.

[color=#b4a7d6]"I like it. Who knew I could inspire something beautiful like this."[/color] There is irony coated in her words, she's almost certain. 

[color=#fe650d]“Why?”[/color] Lorcán responded, a confused look crossing his boyish face. [color=#fe650d]“There’s like, totally nothing ugly about you, Betty.”[/color] He shook his head in slight disbelief. The fire-like irises of his eyes framed his pupils as they danced about scanning Amma from head to toe. He meant what he said, there was nothing ugly about the young woman standing before him. Her figure was slender but curved enough to be dangerous. What had once been a blank canvas was now covered in art that peeked out from under the hemlines of her physical training uniform enhancing her foreign and exotic beauty.

Her lips seemed to almost cradle each word she spoke, constantly leaving Lorcán greedily wanting more of the siren’s call. Her lips’ fullness pressed together with every word, holding each syllable on bated breath before speaking in a tone and manner that left Lorcán with every hair on his body standing on end. Not unlike the experience of lightning leaving his fingertips.

The deer frolicked through the fields unaware that the wolf was watching from the treeline. The clouds overhead continued to swirl with the threat of both rain and storm, but the deer stood smiling, blissful in its ignorance. An unprecedented tension sat over the plateau as the cold winds cried over the Howling Cliffs again.

[color=#fe650d]“Brah, hear that?”[/color] The wavy-haired boy asked, gesturing with his head towards the edge of the Plateau. [color=#fe650d]“The like edge of the Southern Plateau is known as the Howling Cliffs. Get this,  one of ours used their abilities to shape the cliffs to work like an instrument so when the wind blows through the cliffs, it creates that rad haunting song. It’s totally sick.”[/color]

[color=#b4a7d6]"I didn't know that,"[/color] her admission is toned in wonder, her thoughts adrift to what he confided to there being nothing ugly about her.

[i][color=#b4a7d6]He simply doesn't know you yet, Amma.[/color][/i]

She easily dispels her touch away from him, the tiniest of crimson sparks descending from those lines of fate and heart carved into her palms as her brows plunge at the moniker he has bestowed upon her. Amma hums thoughtfully, unable to inquire as the wind pitches and collides as if summoned by their mention. Her eyes follow his motions, back to the edge of the cliffs she had stood aside prior, perhaps that was why she felt beckoned by the spires below -- for the entire construct of manipulated rock to be an instrument rather than a force of erosion and time. Her head cants to one side, as if trying to catch those lilting notes and haunting chords he mentioned.

Half-lidded, her eyes shimmer in recognition as she deciphers those hidden pitches, an accompanying murmur purring away from her throat and chest that harks back to a symphony sung into the night sky many years ago. 

[color=#b4a7d6]"That is rad,"[/color] she almost quips, mirth spiralling away into her eyes as these Howling Cliffs summon more notes away from her lips, much like the inspiration that drones away through her body as he looks at her. That hypersensitivity simmered and banked against her bones, eager in the path that rose to her inked skin, liken to a primal energy that appreciated every panning search of his molten eyes that danced with a hidden flame that she suddenly wanted to see unleashed. 

[color=#b4a7d6]"What other secrets are there about this place?"[/color] She wondered aloud, so long as it kept him looking at her like that.

[color=#fe650d]“I hear them too,”[/color] Lorcán replied absently, his voice breaking her thoughts as he noted Amma responding to the notes. “[color=#fe650d]There’s the fourth, the fifth. A minor fall and then a major lift.”[/color] His index and middle fingers began to tap an alternating pattern against his belt.

[color=#fe650d]“I find new secrets are like revealed around here on the regular.”[/color] He muttered in reply, picking up a nearby piece of material, and taking two measurements before raising his hand. With some focus, he accelerated the air around his hand, igniting it before refining the flame into white-hot plasma. With a graceful stroke, he sliced through the first beam. 

[color=#fe650d]“Most of the island has definitely been altered by the founding faculty and students, the flora and the fauna. Even the temperatures, it’s not actually supposed to be as temperate as it is. But we hold the power to shape the world.”[/color]

He sliced through the next piece of metal.

[color=#fe650d]“Or destroy it.” [/color]

Rechecking the plans, Lorcán took ahold of the metal. Pausing, he took a breath, reaching out through the surrounding HZEs and slowly raising the temperature of the metal until it began to bend in his hands. Gently guiding it to the illustrated shape, he released the bent steel to cool before continuing to move on.

[color=#fe650d]“What was the Foundation like, brah?”[/color] Lorcán asked, looking back at Amma, [color=#fe650d]“I’ve heard from one of the other Bettys it was pretty bleak. Sterile, hospital-like hallways and corridors, very module pod-like floating structures. But that Torres kook seems like a real iron lady. Can’t imagine she’s easy to impress.”[/color][/INDENT][/INDENT][/COLOR]