[She watches them fold up piece of paper into a neat little vehicle. It's not quite as elegant as their carved bird, but the clean lines of the wings are admirable anyway.
Andrew tilts the nose into the air, slightly, and skims the paper plane across the room. For a first attempt, it goes rather well. The paper's descent is slow, a petal coasting to the ground.]
...It's just catching the air, right?
[Then again, isn't that more than half of all that flying is?]
[ So yes, it is. Siffrin'll start to make another, this time more bird-like in its folds. Gentle bending for its wings, a second paper to form its face... ]
Just a little wind. [ ... ] People are wind, too. That's what... I heard, a long time ago. That we're the wind that can help others.
[It's a metaphor that falls a little flat for her at first, bound up as she is by thoughts of death and the very real possibility that nothing will fly from this place again.
She also doesn't go to pick up the airplane where it's fallen to the ground several feet away, though that's just because she's feeling very tired.]
By carrying them or pushing them forward? [Could she see herself as the wind helping someone fly?]
Yeah. I think it's a nice thought, at least, like having the "wind" at your back on the sea.
[ Having people you could trust... Siffrin'll finish their little ritual the same way they did before, then set the bird aside as they go to retrieve the plane and place it beside the neat animal. ]
... Helps to cool off a hot day, and push rain off a wet one... There's a lot someone can do, like that.
[Now that Siffrin has brought the paper airplane all the way back and set it down so the two are together, Andrew picks up the bird. She lets it go loosely, giving it a gentle push into the stagnant air, to see if it'll fly as well.]
[There's something final about them, something very past-tense. She intends to leave it and not return to it.]
I much prefer the bird. [And she will go to pick that one up, strangely enough, if only because it positions her to leave the room soon.] Thank you for your apology gift. Don't make me another.
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Andrew tilts the nose into the air, slightly, and skims the paper plane across the room. For a first attempt, it goes rather well. The paper's descent is slow, a petal coasting to the ground.]
...It's just catching the air, right?
[Then again, isn't that more than half of all that flying is?]
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[ So yes, it is. Siffrin'll start to make another, this time more bird-like in its folds. Gentle bending for its wings, a second paper to form its face... ]
Just a little wind. [ ... ] People are wind, too. That's what... I heard, a long time ago. That we're the wind that can help others.
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She also doesn't go to pick up the airplane where it's fallen to the ground several feet away, though that's just because she's feeling very tired.]
By carrying them or pushing them forward? [Could she see herself as the wind helping someone fly?]
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[ Having people you could trust... Siffrin'll finish their little ritual the same way they did before, then set the bird aside as they go to retrieve the plane and place it beside the neat animal. ]
... Helps to cool off a hot day, and push rain off a wet one... There's a lot someone can do, like that.
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[Looking down at the paper bird, Andrew can't help but wonder what it would really take to see it fly freely.]
Are you like that...to anyone?
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...)
The answer is quiet and idle, said with a smile. Like it doesn't matter when it really, really does. ]
Not really.
[ (An uplifting breeze is different than an unrelenting gale, after all.) ]
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Neither am I. [She says, also like it doesn't.
Had Tia ever once...also felt this way?]
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... Some people are more like sails.
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[There's something final about them, something very past-tense. She intends to leave it and not return to it.]
I much prefer the bird. [And she will go to pick that one up, strangely enough, if only because it positions her to leave the room soon.] Thank you for your apology gift. Don't make me another.
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[ The plane to them, then... Maybe they'll unfold it and make something new in time. ]
It's nice talking to you.