Feb 23 18:25:03 108 PA - Idle Talk on the River Walk
From Chronicles
Feb 23 18:25:03 108 PA.
RIVER WALK NORTH
Laying on his back in the snow is the great white bear, his paws in the air as he squirms a bit in the snow. Itching just the right spot, and emitting little grumbling and rumbling sounds as he does so. The evening is dark already, and there are large snowflakes lightly fluttering to the ground. The small Inuit shaman is here as well, laying contentedly draped across Tornaq's belly. Her fur parka is on the ground somewhat nearby, and near to it lay a half dozen beautifully fresh trout that have been recently caught from the river. Scritching her fingers through the bear's fur, it's half grooming and half to ease the itches. There's a definite bond between the bear and the woman, that much is clear -- friendship and protection go both ways.
The older man who comes from times long past comes wandering in slowly from off of Main Street. He's whistling what most people would probably never recognize as "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Not because Gabriel's whistling poorly, just because these ancient tunes have been lost to the world. Apparently the weather isn't as bad as it has been - not surprising, given the date - and he is wearing none of the extra snow gear, despite the still below-freezing temperatures. No gloves, no woolen cap, no overcoat. Just normal clothes that happen to be in whites and creams that blend in well. The lift on his eyebrows probably expresses two things. First, "I didn't know this river actually had fish." Second, "That's not the kind of thing that you see every day."
The melody being whistled is one that Monique doesn't recognize, and it's likely no small wonder. Being from the North means that she's lacked the exposure to such things. Shifting her weight, the small Inuit woman turns and flops on Tornaq's belly, laying on her back as well and looking up at the moonless sky. She seems content, interestingly enough. Tornaq's rumble to alert her to the presence of another draws her dark-eyed gaze to turn to Gabriel, and a smile lights her features. Rolling to her side, she lifts a hand to offer a wave of greeting to the man. Still, she remains on the bear's belly, comfortable there. He's like a great big teddy bear to her, sometimes. A very protective teddy bear.
Gabriel approaches the two, unconcerned about the bear. They've never spoken, he's only looked the bear in the eye. Yet he feels that there is some kind of animal understanding between them. Sort of a, "I'm okay if you're okay" feeling. Of course, that probably isn't the case at all, but that's what he feels as he nods to Tornaq. A hand is raised in greeting to the Eskimo girl. A normal greeting is put aside, supplemented instead with a fatherly chuckle and, "I believe that I've said this before, but you look very much like my Florentyna, just with somewhat darker skin. Otherwise? Very similar." He gazes at the two of them, then makes a hand motion toward the snow. "May I?"
It's the sort of sentiment that Tornaq has with anyone who has friended Monique. He's all good with them so long as they're all good with him -- and so long as they don't make any signs of attacking or otherwise causing harm to his little shaman. Monique blushes a little, and then she gives a small nod. "Did say, once before, how I remind of her," she affirms, a smile touching her lips. "Can sit, we not mind," Monique says, giving a small nod before lifting a hand to gesture towards the snow for him to feel free to take his pick of it.
"Thank you, Miss Monique. Tornaq. You look like my old bloodhound, just waitin' there for someone to come along and rub your belly, big guy." Gabriel smiles to both and settles on the snow - in the Eskimo fashion. Not just the way that he's crossed his legs, but the total body position. He did say that he'd been all over the world. "I hear you had some excitement the other day, Miss Monique. Made the papers, and everything." Apparently, the man gets the old fashioned paper, not the video news feeds. "Tornaq like have belly rubbed, when in mood for it," Monique says, giving a small nod. He pretty much never turns it down from her, though. She notices the way that Gabriel sits, and she tilts her head slightly to one side, considering it. Yet his words distract her a little, and she gives a light shrug of one of her shoulder. "I not sure I call it excitement, but... it definitely not ordinary. I not mean make news, just... well, just mean give help, save harm from coming to others," she says softly, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. Monique feels herself to be unsuccessful with the last part, since the evil cane had been claimed and it had possessed the woman who took it and the woman now suffers psychic damage because of it.
Gabriel nods his head, probably not in total understanding, but at least in commiserating with similar problems. "You know, I've been thinking of the poor guy's name. 'Daryus Grea.' Plus, this, um.. enchanted cane thing that had the brains, or something like that?" He holds up a hand with a smile. "Yeah, word's gotten around about the cane, even though they didn't report on it in the papers. You, ah.. you probably aren't real familiar with the famous literature of my time, are you?"
Monique tilts her head slightly to one side as she studies him, and she shifts her position a bit, rolling to lay on her belly instead. She remains laying across Tornaq, though. "Cane not have brain. Cane have evil. Very very evil," she says, giving a small nod. "I not know much of, how you say... literature. I not read," she says, a blush rising into her cheeks. The only thing that she knows how to read is the language of her people, used in scrimshaw like what's on her bone necklace. "Cane possessed with evil," she says softly, her brow furrowing a little.
"Ah, well. There's a famous book, called "The Picture of Dorian Gray." He was a man in the late 1800s, England. A magical painting had been done of him, and for every year that passed, his painting aged - but he didn't. But he got mad with power when he realized that he was immortal, and started to do evil things. For every evil thing he did, his portrait got more and more hideous." Gabriel is telling the tale like he might do... to a child. With different tones of voice and dramatic pauses. "The only way that he could be killed was to destroy his painting, or have him look on his own painting. Just sounds kind of similar, doesn't it? I mean, sure, not exactly, but kind of close, right? Except the portrait is a cane?" He smiles. "So how'd you take care of the poor girl? I wish something could be done for her."
Propping her elbows on the belly of the polar bear beneath her, she settles her chin on her palms, a smile touching her lips. She lifts one of her feet, knee bending as she lightly bobs her foot. She listens attentively to the story as it's told, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. "Sound similar, yes... still evil," Monique says, giving a small nod. "I not able do much for her. Hurt is in her mind, and I not able to heal mind... just body," she says softly, a small smile touching her lips again. "She being cared for, by others who able to tend mind," she adds, giving a small nod.
Gabriel smiles in return. "As along as you've done the most that you can do, then you've done the best that you can do." He pokes lightly at his right temple. "A healthy mind has an easy breath." He scrunches one eye and cracks his back before asking, "Well, you certainly look comfortable, little Monique. But you're a strange one. Sometimes you're happy, but usually you're just quiet, a little bit moody, and generally alone - save for Tornaq, of course. You should get involved in a community group or something. Y'know, dispensing soup for the refugees, maybe doing some little theater. Learn a musical instrument. Hostolana was an excellent flutist."
Monique tilts her head slightly to one side, and then she gives a small nod. "Yes, I do all I able for her," she says softly, a smile touching her lips. "Tornaq comfortable, always. Sometimes sleep on him, he warm," she adds, giving a small nod. And in the North, being able to share warmth isn't a bad thing at all. "I like listen. I try learn speak better. I not speak very good, make hard understand sometimes," she admits, a blush rising into her cheeks. "I not know... Tornaq always come with, I not want people be afraid. Who Hostolana?" she asks, raising an eyebrow slightly. Tornaq is a very large bear, and it's enough to be intimidating to a fair number of people.
Perhaps intimidating to others, but not to Gabriel. Not that he's an idiot that ignores Tornaq, just apparently something in his life has kept him from being frightened. "Hostolana, she was one of my daughters. She was originally Italian, but the war left her homeless, orphaned, and... well, you don't need to know other details. But she was in a very bad, very sad way. Natasha and I adopted her, like our other daughters, and we loved her as if she had been our own by birthright." He smiles in remembrance, an expression of both happiness and sadness at the same time. "I have led a very unusual life. I haven't told anyone here about it, and I don't think that anyone would believe me if I told them about it. But suffice it to say that in the short version, I'm much more than just a soldier." Gabriel speaks more plainly, far more grammatically correct than normal. The nuns who taught him would be proud.
