Scene:  Aboard the Nighthawk
Characters:  Rydia and Cyan





Curious as a cat, Rydia has begun to climb up onto one of the massive cannons, trying to get a better look at the city beyond. The light breeze catches her hair, whipping the green locks like lazy strands of wild grass swaying across a lush prairie. She tries to hold it back, but fails, wishing for a moment that she'd tied it back.

Cyan climbs up from belowdecks, walking over to the rail and leaning on it, recalling a similar time when he traveled the world on a similar ship...Setzer's. How is his friend now, he wonders? It's been more than a while...perhaps someday he'll find out. For now, though, he just leans on the railing and looks out at the bustling city of Vector, not noticing Rydia in his field of vision. She must be somewhere behind him.

Hanging onto a few of the massive rivets, Rydia manages to haul herself up despite the wind playing with her hair. Straddling the barrell, she hangs onto it tightly at first, nervous about being so high up, and yet, the awesome view ahead of her makes her gasp. "Wow, how pretty," she says to herself, also unaware of Cyan below.

Cyan sighs slightly at days gone by and turns, at which point he immediately becomes entangled within his own ponytail, and curses softly, hands going up to move it. When it clears, he sees Rydia sitting on the barrel of a cannon, starts to shout in surprise, and at the same time realizes he's just going to scare her off. In fact, walking over there and making noise he might scare her off. But it's dangerous! But how does he tell her without scaring her right off the side of that barrel? ...This isn't easy....

Of course, Rydia is upping the stakes slightly. After making sure she's balanced while sitting, she heaves herself up onto her hands and knees, then slowly pushes upward, carefully balancing herself into a semi standing position. Her arms are held out to her sides, keeping herself balanced and her legs are slightly parted, one foot in front of the other, as if she were surfing the cannon. She giggles, still unaware that someone else is paying any attention to her. Strangely childlike for a young woman.

Cyan gawks and tries really, really hard not to say something, but does edge more than a little bit closer in case something goes wrong. Considering a lot of people used to do this on Setzer's airship, it's not as dangerous as it could be, but that doesn't change the fact that Cyan is genuinely afraid for Rydia's safety.

Finally, after a bit of teetering, Rydia manages to get herself standing up straight on the barrell of the cannon. She holds still for a few moments, making sure she's really balanced enough not to just fall over. The breeze is fairly gusty still, blowing her hair around her face with abandoned. She reaches over, spitting out strands of her own hair as she pulls it from her face. How annoying. Next time, she ties it up for certain. Of course, she's not done, by far. She pivots, her back to Cyan now, then pivots again, graceful, but the confidence she exudes is starting to border on cocky.
     
Cyan is at the railing now, but now makes a bit more noise as he gets closer, hoping and trying hard not to startle her. Basically, he makes his presence known, quietly first, then a bit louder so she's expecting it -- a moment of thought for the knight who hopes one of his newest friends doesn't become something of a splatter on the ground. "...Rydia?" Here goes nothing.

Oh! Rydia glances down, realizing she's not alone now. Luckily for Cyan, she doesn't slip or fall right then, crashing to the ground below to smash her skull or break a leg or something. Instead she smiles down at him, green hair haloing her head. "Hey, Cyan! I didn't know you were down there."
  
Cyan grins tightly and perhaps nervously, looking a little blanched. "Yes, I surmised thou didst not." He pauses. "Rydia, mayhap thou shouldst come down from there? Aren't thee just a little bit nervous?"

Laughing lightly, Rydia shakes her head, brushing the unruly hair from her face again. "No, haven't you ever tried something daring before, Sir Cyan?" She seems much more comfortable atop the cannon, really not understanding Cyan's nervousness. Bold as a child, she is, and probably believes herself just as invincable.

Cyan pauses. "Perhaps, but the fact remains that an thou'rt not nervous, mayhap I am!" Strained chuckle. "One misstep, and I should not enjoy relating to Edge what occurred while he didst sleep below decks."

Oh, Edge again. Rydia fits her hands on her hips, frowning, "I will not allow him to stifle me into being some pampered princess with no spirit." As if he could. She might have just stayed up there out of spite, at least until Edge arrived, if not for a paticularly strong gust of wind. She squeaks, stumbling forward slightly, arms flailing out to attempt to balance herself. Instead of just falling, she slams down atop the cannon, and starts to slide downward until a bit of the gauze from her skirt catches on a rivet, halting her descent enough to let her grab at another rivet. She sits there a moment, heart pounding in her chest.

Cyan leaps up onto the cannon, but knows well enough from watching his friends (especially Setzer and Locke) to crouch low to the cannon so the wind flows more around him than against him. Actually, he's mainly copying them 'cause they never fell off, but it seems to be working. "RYDIA! Hold on!" Well, of course she's going to hold on, but cliches don't matter much in times like this, and Cyan starts making his way down the cannon's barrel.

Rydia isn't going anywhere, that's for sure. After the genuine surprise wears off, as well as the initial pain of her skin scraping against rivets and steel, she starts forcing her muscles to work, trying to pull herself toward Cyan. She's far too embarassed to allow him to just rescue her. Edge will _never_ let her live this one down.

Cyan inches along the cannon as fast as he can...he'd almost be footing, if it wasn't for the fact the word is inching. He personally has no thoughts of her being embarrassed, but then he's just a Class-A1 Worrisome Fellow. They meet not quite halfway, although it's hard to say who made more progress, and Cyan reaches down and carefully lifts Rydia with one arm, using the other to hold steady, and slowly turns around. See, all that striving to fit into a macho sterotype can occasionally come in handy.

Usually Rydia would argue hotly with anyone trying to pull the macho act on her. Just watch her around Edge anytime to see evidence of this. However, this is slightly different, now all she wants is to be on the ground again. There's just one problem with this scenario so far, even though it seems about to end happily... her skirt is still partially snagged by a rivulet, making it somewhat difficult to take her very far.
    
Cyan stops as he realizes this, and certainly doesn't want her to lose her skirt, even if they are a little too high to worry about these things. He's a knight, after all. He looks quickly at the skirt, then at Rydia. "Haveth thee a spare skirt in thy belongings?" he asks quickly.

Rydia glances over her shoulder, sighing as she sees the gauzy material caught against the rivet. "Yeah..." It's not the inner skirt, just one of the outer tendrils. She won't be revealing anything she isn't already if it's torn.

Cyan nods, but rather than just tugging her and possibly causing the rivet to dig in deeper or slash her leg, Cyan crouches a bit more, using an elbow to steady himself (obviously he's more flexible than you'd think) and reaches behind him, whipping his sword out. In one careful, short cut, he slashes Rydia's skirt free of the rivet, or maybe slashes most of her skirt free from the stuck part. That done he gets the sword back in the sheath carefully and lifts Rydia again, scooting them back to the deck.

Glad to be back on the ground again, Rydia allows a shaky breath of relief to be exhaled, sitting the moment Cyan lets go of her. "Thank you... I'm sorry, that was foolish of me." It was still fun... everything but the falling part. But, it's hard to say if she'll ever do _that_ again. Trying to turn her arm over, she glances down the back of it at the largish scrape there.

Cyan himself drops down and leans his back on the railing in a sitting position. "Worry not," he pants. "But...next time...I pray thou wilt wait for someone to keep watch of you...if not Edge...perhaps me?" *phew*

Rydia frowns, running her fingers over the abrasion, finding a little bit of blood on her fingertips. "Are you suggesting I have a babysitter, Sir Cyan?" Oh she can almost see where this is going. "I pray Edge hasn't made you his retainer just so you can watch me." That'd be no fun, she likes Cyan and probably wouldn't do anything to upset him, as she would do to anyone else Edge would try to assign to her.
  
Cyan leans his head back on the railing. "Nay," he says. "I did watch thee because I did not wish for one of my newest friends to become naught but a splatter upon the floor of Vector." Short cough from dry throat. "I merely suggest thou doth keep someone to watch thee an thou'rt determined to..." Cyan runs out of breath and goes back to panting.

Rydia forgets the abrasion, it'll heal and she's had worse. Much worse. "Determined to what...?" Her breathing has calmed down, and so has her pounding heart. She doesn't go out of her way to be a nuisance, does she? Maybe she does...? The thought of it brings a ponderous look to her face. If... if she really is a burden, oh that'd just make her start crying.
    
Cyan shakes his head. Besides not having enough breath to reply, maybe it's just not worth saying...he'll just...keep watching her and hope for the best, or somesuch.... "...'tis naught..." And his head just sinks down as he pulls his legs in, resting it on his knees. In doing so, he entirely misses the expression on Rydia's face.

Rydia sighs, mimicking Cyan's actions, but she pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She's not entirely convinced of his words, and in fact, his reluctance to finish it convinces her of the previous thought. She's a troublemaker, else the poor knight would never have been so stressed over her antics. Oh no, here come the tears.
    
Cyan gradually gets enough of his breath back to sit up again, and...sees...Rydia crying. Which of course strikes a horrible chord in his own heart, and he forces himself to get back onto two legs and crouch next to her. "Why, Rydia...what is wrong?"

Rydia buries her head in her hands, unable to stop herself now that the dam has opened and the flood of tears stream down her cheeks like liquid opal on porcelain. "I'm so s-s-sorry, C-cyan. I d-din' m-mean to c-c-c-cause trouble."

Oh, no. Cyan's a sucker for a crying girl, and doesn't know how to handle them either. Always left that to Locke and Edgar....Cyan pauses, still crouched near Rydia but not exactly moving towards her at all. "...Rydia..." Long pause... "...Worry not. 'Twas simply a misstep...and thou'rt safe now. That is all that truly matters..." And then he runs out of things to say....

Rydia doesn't sob for a long time, just long enough to get it out, and then draws her hands away, rubbing the remaining tears from her reddened eyes. Sniffing, she asks meekly, "You're not mad at me?"

      Cyan shakes his head. "No, I suppose not," he says. "Although 'tis serendipitious I was not wearing armor at the time, or I would have been far less flexibile." Faint grin. "Thou'rt not trouble, Rydia. An thou were troublesome, why wouldst thee have friends who remain beside you as yours do?" Honest grin now, as Cyan hopes his point sorta hits home, such as it is.

It does seem to, after Rydia takes a moment to let it sink in. She smiles faintly, shrugging her shoulders, "I suppose..." It does stand to reason that none of them would like her if she were really so much trouble. Except maybe Edge, but he's a masochist.

Cyan chuckles faint. "There," he says. "See? Thou need hardly worry." That crisis averted, Cyan drops from his crouch back onto his rear, turning a bit and sitting down.

Rydia releases her knees, letting them fall to either side, leaning forward to prop her palms against the ground. In so many ways, she acts like a kid ten years younger, arranging the inner skirt just so. "Thanks. You're the bestest, you know."