Post by nascha on Oct 2, 2006 16:35:46 GMT -5
Sara walked along the park sidewalk, her long white cane held in
front of her. The long black skirt flowed about her legs with a
gentle sway. And off white peasant type blouse and a pair of rose tinted glasses and a black over sized bag slung over one shoulder completed her outfit. She hummed softly to herself as she walked, a faint smile on her lips. The route was one she new well, so well her feet never faltered. She heard the passing murmurs of people as they stared at her with sympathy, and whispered words of pity. But she paid them no mind, they couldn't see what she saw, and after all this time, she had come to pity them, for their lack. Stopping at one of the many water fountains in the park, she paused a moment to make sure no one was there before stepping up to take a drink. Straightening, she stops and listened, and her nose twitched slightly. "Evening John." She said amicable as she turned towards the older man. The old bum chuckled "how did you know it was me?" Taking a relaxed stance, hands folded across the top of her walking cane, she smiled "Well, for one thing you been down to the wharves, you smell of sea air, fish and brine. Add in that horrible cologne you like to wear and the fact you are decisively up wind of me…" and she raised her eyebrows at him as she tilted her head to one side to
see if he would refute her claim or not. Shaking his head. "Dead on Lass, dead on. You never cease to stop amazing me. So what are you about this night?"
Shifting slightly "There is a full moon tonight, my spirit is
restless and I decided to spend some quality time with my music.
What about you?"
Laughing once more "Heading to the fountain to get cleaned up since
the tourist will be leaving soon." And he shrugs. "You know I worry
about you. Wandering around like you do. Been a bunch of pretty
ladies turning up dead. I would hate to see something happen to you."
She blushes slightly as one hand move to her face and the to the
thick honey blonde hair that framed her face, she had never seen her
reflection; she had no idea what she looked like. She knew people
lied, but the was an honesty about John, that made her believe him
when he said so. Reaching out, she finds and touches his face "You
know I can take care of myself John. I have been for some time.
Don't worry so." Removing her hand she starts to walk once more. "I
will stop by the fountain on my way out if that will set you mind at
ease." She smiles at his rumbled and grudging "alright.' As she
moves on down the path.
Before long she reaches an uneven dirt path that breaks off from the
main sidewalk. Turning down it, here feet moved unerringly and as she moved further from the main sidewalk and prying eyes, she started to just hold her long cane. Relying now on memory, her senses and other abilities to `see' her way along. She moved with sure feet til once more the path branched, this time to what would almost be called a `game trail'. She moved through the branches with ease, as they almost seem to part for her as she moved ever onward. Before long she reached her goal, a small clearing. Pausing on the edge, she tilted her head to one side as she `listened', but hearing nothing but the sound of the evening forest, she knew it was safe. Stepping into the glade, she took a deep breath as she felt the magic that was there surrounding her. Smiling to herself, this was one of those places she always felt safe, there was deep, old ,magic here, and she welcomed it as it welcomed her. Some thought she was silly for believe such, magic and all, but surely if there were vampires and Werewolves, there was magic, right? With a lighter step she moved toward the grouping of rocks near the center of the glade, where resting her cane against them, she climb up and on them. Sitting cross-legged on them, she shifts her bag from the back to the front, where she then sifted through its contents to pullout a silver flute. Running her hands reverently over it, she paused before bringing the flute to her lips and playing.
A few quick run of the notes and soon she broke into some songs. Songs far older than her, of ages past, and heroes of old. Songs of the Tuatha de Dannan, Fionn MacCumhal and others who have been long committed to tales told to children and tourist, their great deeds regulated to myths and tales. She closes her eyes and lets herself get lost in the music, as time takes on a dream-like feel as she `travels' to a different place and time in her mind.
front of her. The long black skirt flowed about her legs with a
gentle sway. And off white peasant type blouse and a pair of rose tinted glasses and a black over sized bag slung over one shoulder completed her outfit. She hummed softly to herself as she walked, a faint smile on her lips. The route was one she new well, so well her feet never faltered. She heard the passing murmurs of people as they stared at her with sympathy, and whispered words of pity. But she paid them no mind, they couldn't see what she saw, and after all this time, she had come to pity them, for their lack. Stopping at one of the many water fountains in the park, she paused a moment to make sure no one was there before stepping up to take a drink. Straightening, she stops and listened, and her nose twitched slightly. "Evening John." She said amicable as she turned towards the older man. The old bum chuckled "how did you know it was me?" Taking a relaxed stance, hands folded across the top of her walking cane, she smiled "Well, for one thing you been down to the wharves, you smell of sea air, fish and brine. Add in that horrible cologne you like to wear and the fact you are decisively up wind of me…" and she raised her eyebrows at him as she tilted her head to one side to
see if he would refute her claim or not. Shaking his head. "Dead on Lass, dead on. You never cease to stop amazing me. So what are you about this night?"
Shifting slightly "There is a full moon tonight, my spirit is
restless and I decided to spend some quality time with my music.
What about you?"
Laughing once more "Heading to the fountain to get cleaned up since
the tourist will be leaving soon." And he shrugs. "You know I worry
about you. Wandering around like you do. Been a bunch of pretty
ladies turning up dead. I would hate to see something happen to you."
She blushes slightly as one hand move to her face and the to the
thick honey blonde hair that framed her face, she had never seen her
reflection; she had no idea what she looked like. She knew people
lied, but the was an honesty about John, that made her believe him
when he said so. Reaching out, she finds and touches his face "You
know I can take care of myself John. I have been for some time.
Don't worry so." Removing her hand she starts to walk once more. "I
will stop by the fountain on my way out if that will set you mind at
ease." She smiles at his rumbled and grudging "alright.' As she
moves on down the path.
Before long she reaches an uneven dirt path that breaks off from the
main sidewalk. Turning down it, here feet moved unerringly and as she moved further from the main sidewalk and prying eyes, she started to just hold her long cane. Relying now on memory, her senses and other abilities to `see' her way along. She moved with sure feet til once more the path branched, this time to what would almost be called a `game trail'. She moved through the branches with ease, as they almost seem to part for her as she moved ever onward. Before long she reached her goal, a small clearing. Pausing on the edge, she tilted her head to one side as she `listened', but hearing nothing but the sound of the evening forest, she knew it was safe. Stepping into the glade, she took a deep breath as she felt the magic that was there surrounding her. Smiling to herself, this was one of those places she always felt safe, there was deep, old ,magic here, and she welcomed it as it welcomed her. Some thought she was silly for believe such, magic and all, but surely if there were vampires and Werewolves, there was magic, right? With a lighter step she moved toward the grouping of rocks near the center of the glade, where resting her cane against them, she climb up and on them. Sitting cross-legged on them, she shifts her bag from the back to the front, where she then sifted through its contents to pullout a silver flute. Running her hands reverently over it, she paused before bringing the flute to her lips and playing.
A few quick run of the notes and soon she broke into some songs. Songs far older than her, of ages past, and heroes of old. Songs of the Tuatha de Dannan, Fionn MacCumhal and others who have been long committed to tales told to children and tourist, their great deeds regulated to myths and tales. She closes her eyes and lets herself get lost in the music, as time takes on a dream-like feel as she `travels' to a different place and time in her mind.