indispensible | six. list & private & spam. hail the pages turning.

This is rude.

➽ Ben: Comfortable, dressy shoes to dance in
➽ Alana: A slim knife, with a note that I’ll show her how to use it if she likes.
➽ Nathan: Memorable smells from my home – the beer and liquor of our hideout, the perfumes of the balls, ash beaten into a Mistcloak, the smell of metal shavings suspended in liquid. A locket with a picture of her in it.
➽ Beatrix: A glass dagger.
➽ Megamind: A music box, with music and steps from home, if you can do that.
➽ Morgana: A comfortable gown with space in the sleeves for weapons, and a simple circlet.
➽ Kelsier: A gold pocket-watch, with a picture of Mare inside.
➽ Marsh: Fabric, as much as he wants and any kind he wants.
➽ Zane: Things to touch. Pieces of coarse furs, or soft leaves, lamb’s ear, rough bark. Things to remind him who he is when he gets upset.
➽ Stark: A koloss sword
➽ Arya: Ways to conceal weapons – thigh straps, arm straps. Thin, light mail. A key to my cabin, in case she ever needs me.
➽ Dean: Ten pies. They have to stay good until he wakes up and be next to his bed when he does.

private } arya

I want to talk to you.

[Because she feels weird and confused about this holiday, and she wants to beat it up.]

spam } stark

[Vin sends Clifford after Stark, not to monitor his behavior exactly, but to essentially bother him until he gets fed up with it and comes to find her. She has a question, okay.]

open spam } library

[She's looking for information - she's even writing it down. Not about the holidays, all of which frighten and annoy her in ways she can't even begin to articulate, but about dance. She starts with a history, gets frustrated with it, manages not to throw it across the room, and finds a book with more pictures and less history. Reading is still relatively new to her. She doesn't understand why it's harder when she's upset.]

[This is her gift to herself, if everyone is meant to get them: a search for movements that mean as much to other people as hers mean to her. Different ways of learning to speak.]

[Soon enough, she's surrounded by piles of books and half-crumpled papers, with her childish handwriting scrawled across it.]

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[Focus on your feet. Easy for him to say. Slowly, she begins to replicate his movement, with her standard Mistborn grace but even so, without the ease he's displaying. She glares at her feet as if they've personally wronged her.]

It doesn't seem right.

[She's at a bit of a loss to understand why it doesn't seem right. At least not understand it in a way that she can explain it. It's the same as at home, in a way: everyone else had their beliefs, but she'd known the men those beliefs were based on. And some of them were based on her.]

[She shakes her head.]</small. I can't get away from it.

[She rolls her eyes at him and "accidentally" elbows him in the side on the way in. Clifford follows after her, and she sits down at the bar, locking her ankles up over the stool's rungs.]

Do your worst.

[Well, that will teach him to ever be gentlemanly. Next time he'll just close the door in her face.]

[One glass full of Aqua Regia coming up, Vin. Though for Stark first. Since you're being a pain in the ass. Then you'll get one.]

Don't chug it.

For the record, you end up sick? I'm not holding your hair. That'll be Clifford's job.

[He'll stop and watch her a moment, holding a 'hmmn'.]

You are way too tense. Just relax, it's only a dance.

['Only a dance'. She huffs.]

Some of us like doing things right.

[But she does relax, with some effort, and she does improve. A little. Enough to give him a triumphant, haha! look.]

Or scared of doing things wrong?

[He'll raise his eyebrows but turns it into a smile once she starts getting a better grasp of it.]

See? You got it.

I'm not scared of anything.

[The freaky part is, she's mostly not lying. Vin is just stubborn as all hell. She scowls at him at the praise, but then focuses on her feet again, and before she knows it she's smiling somewhat with satisfaction.]

Of course I got it. [Hmph.]

Of course.

[He'll fold his arms before peering over at the other books.]

So, why are you trying to learn these? I'm guessing there's more than just that one, right?

It'll be over, soon. [It's curious to her: the celebrations she remembers best were feasts in honor of kings, in honor of uncles or brothers or sisters. They celebrate differently, in the north. And in the east, all she celebrated was death.]

Winter only lasts a few months, here.

[This is incredibly strange to her.]

[She hesitates. This is getting dangerously close to sensitive territory, but - well, he'd figure it out eventually. She can always dodge.]

Different types of dances. All kinds. Just to compare them.

[Compare them to what she knew before, and see what's similar, what's different; what they make her feel, if anything.]

[She can last through it, then. Easy enough. And she should stop complaining, she supposes; at least there's no endless winter here. Endless reminders of Kelsier's alleged godhood.]

[She forces her shoulders to relax.]

A short cycle. That's good. New things will come.

[In theory.]

[He'll pick up a book at random and flip through pages idly.]

Yeah? What for though? Just curiosity?

Curiosity. And practice.

I used to dance back home. There was never much . . . variety, though.

That so?

Then, what were dances back home like? Not like that salsa, I'm guessing.

[She can only shrug at that; after three years on the Barge, 'new' is definitely a relative term.]

How long is winter, in your world?

No. Slower, but more complicated. Some of them were more complicated, anyway.

Sort of like a waltz. I learned about a waltz here. But a different count.

. . . There might have been some I didn't know about, too. I only learned a few dances before I had to stop. [Because other things became significantly more important.]

Not that long. But everything gets confused, even seasons, with the mists.

. . . Got confused. The mists are gone.

Why are they gone?

They were killing the land. The people. We had to get rid of them.

But you're still a mistborn?

I'll always be Mistborn. Their presence or absence can't change that.

Huh, so how's a waltz go?

[She just stares at him, a little suspiciously. But he hasn't attacked her yet, she guesses. Abruptly, she gives a huffy little sigh and takes his hands in hers, pushing him away from the table.]

Follow my steps, all right?

[Which is in her opinion enough warning to just go. It's not a waltz, actually; it's the first dance she learned at home. But he doesn't need to know that.]

[He'll hesitate a moment when his hands are grabbed, wondering if the earring will react. Usually, it wouldn't, but everything else had been thrown off so there was no telling about the damned jewelry. And it's not as though he wanted to test it sooner. Luckily, nothing happens, and he relaxes significantly. The last thing he needed was to grow sick to his stomach and then have to explain.]

All right, lead on.

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six. list & private & spam. hail the pages turning.

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spam; this may be inaccurate but i'm too lazy to check >_>

spam; WORKS FOR ME

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