Jul 13 10:11:32 105 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Mon Jul 13 10:11:32 105 PA.
A pleasant morning it is and Desmond is out to take advantage of it. Dressed in his usual denim, he walks through the park slowly, his eyes flitting about slowly as he takes in the park itself. But he's not just out for casual sightseeing. He has a seeking air about him. The big male looking for something. With him is his small sketchpad, which he holds loosely in one hand as he moves along the park's paths slowly.
Those who seek, are sometimes lucky enough to find what it is they search for. The small Inuit woman has, at least, found a measure of what she sought. A quiet place. Here in the park, in the morning's light, she lays on her back amidst a patch of tall grass and delicately bobbing wildflowers who cast their scent to the stray fingers of the breeze. Monique has her hands tucked beneath her head, her hair cast out to one side where it lays damply on the grass. Next to her, looking equally comfortable laying on his back with his paws in the air, is Tornaq, his head lolled back on the grass. There's a patch of grass which looks rather... flattened. And well it should, since it's where Tornaq had himself a grand roll. Even though he looks inattentive, his keen nose still pays strict attention to the variety of scents which tease past it, and he exhales a rumble even as he shifts a little.
Desmond will notice the two from afar at first. The form of the bear first notable, large as he is. The white of his pelt drawing Des' eyes towards the two. Picking out Monique's smaller shape beside. His head cants slightly as he studies the two from afar for a moment before he starts to approach. He does not hide his approach, his long stride eating the space between them smoothly. Soon enough he draws close enough that his voice can be given without being raised. "Monique. Tornaq." The familiar tone of his voice followed by words with a questioning lilt. "MIght I sketch you as you are now?" Pausing nearby after asking this.
Of the two, Tornaq is predictably the first to notice the approach of Desmond. His head lifts and he peers over himself to look to Desmond, and he offers a rumble of greeting. It would seem he determines there to be no threat, though, for after a moment, he flops his headback as he had been, lazing a bit. They've already hunted and eaten breakfast, and bathed in the pond that the ducks think is theirs except when Tornaq is in it. The great white bear gives a yawn, then licks his nose, and remains apparently pleasantly sated. The small Inuit woman shifts her weight at the greeting offered, moving one of her hands to the grass next to her to push herself up into a sitting position, even as the question is being asked, her dark-eyed gaze turning to the source of it. A small smile touches at the corners of her lips, and then she gives a little nod. "If you wish," she says softly, her voice holding a bit of a solemn strangeness to it.
Desmond nods his head once to the allowance of his desires, considering the two for a quiet moment before he asks, "You are well, yes? As you are often here, I would assume, I wonder if you have seen anything strange since the coming of Kesslan's people." As he asks after both topics he slowly shifts his place, coming around to view the two from a new angle. Pausing to lean back against a tree near where he pauses. It seems to satisfy his artistic desires as lifts the pad, flips to a clean page and pulls a pencil from within his jacket. Laying it to the paper at once as he starts to sketch.
The small woman raises an eyebrow slightly, and then she softly shakes her head. "I have not seen anything strange here, not since I came here," she says softly, her tone thoughtful in nature. She studies him for a lingering moment, and then she lays back on the grass, lifting one of her hands to splay out her hair next to her again. Monique is quiet for a lingering moment, perhaps for a long enough few seconds that might give the impression she won't answer the question. Reaching out one of her hands to lightly touch Tornaq's side, she takes a moment to look to the bear before she looks up to the morning sky. "I am well enough, I suppose," she says quietly, her tone thoughtfully solemn.
Desmond is patient enough when it comes to his questions. Filling the quiet time that she takes to respond with a smooth, careful sweeping of his pencil, only broken by brief, focused examination of the two from time to time as he refreshes their details in his mind. There is a great deal of focus in how he approaches this drawing, devoting much attention to it.. though he does not neglect when she does finally speak. "Well enough. The words themselves speak of dissatisfaction," he muses aloud as he pauses his pencil, considering his progress thus far. His eyes lift then to regard her. "Minor or major, I would think there is some with you. But I am not one to pry. Only to listen to what others would speak to me." Then his eyes dip again and he resumes his careful sketching.
Softly, her fingertips remain reached out to the great white bear next to her, not touching him very much but touching him enough. Enough for there to be contact, for there to be the comfort of that touch. A faint smile touches at the corners of her lips, and she gives her head a slight shake. "This word... 'dissatisfaction'... it is one I do not know," she says softly, her gaze turning to Desmond for a moment before lifting again to the morning sky. Fallen quiet again, it would seem, to await the meaning to the word she did not know. "There are so many words, it seems... too many, sometimes. How can a person come to know them all? To understand them?" she says quietly, a shimmer touching her dark eyes. This, though, is not the true problem, but is a very small piece of it.
Desmond muses that and rumbles, "This is true.. many are the words I have come to know. Though even I do not know them all." He lifts his eyes towards Monique. "Much to learn, but such is the way of life. Learning always. Dissatisfaction.. is a wanting state. Where something is missing that is expected or hoped for." Offered lightly before he adds, "I know not if it is true for you, but I feel that something bothers you. BUt if it is something you would not speak of, I understand." And by his tone he does. There is no reproach, no waver in the steady roll of his deep voice. He seems pleased with his work, the movements of his pencil smaller.. more precise as he looks down to the paper again.
"Sometimes... I think that I will never know them all, or know enough of them," the small woman says, her brow furrowing slightly as she considers the truth in that statement. True, and too true. A soft sigh escapes her lips, and the thoughtful furrow there eases. She considers the definition offered to her, weighing it against what she feels inside, and then she gives a small nod, to affirm that there is something bothering her. "There is a something, bothering me. I do not know if it is quite what could be called a... 'dissatisfaction'... although, it is, at the same time," she says quietly, her brow furrowing a little as it puzzles her. Again, there comes a period of silence from the small woman, and she shifts but slightly, to lay her fingers a little more against Tornaq's side so near to her fingers. "I was left a note... and Dr. Kelley has left, for a time," she says quietly, her words not much more than a whisper. She falls quiet again then, blinking a little quickly, the shimmer in her eyes rising briefly.
Desmond continues his detailed sketching as she speaks, then pauses in quiet. Letting her consider and decide what she shall say to him. Though when she speaks her concerns, he pauses and lifts his eyes to her again. "This is so?" His brow furrowed, expression slid into his firm neutral. "This seems sudden.. I trust nothing untoward.. nothing bad has happened." Remembering to keep his words a bit more relaxed. "For a ti me.. this means he will return I assume." His sketching stilled for the moment as he considers Monique.
Monique remains quiet, for a short spell, simply to give herself a chance to gain some measure of calm, inside. It still hurts, the emptiness of him being gone. And the calm within is but a fleeting thing, coming for a moment before fading, and as she closes her eyes, tears slip from the outer corners of her eyes, to trail across her skin. "It is so. He has left, for a time, and I do not know to where. I know he will return, if he is able," she says quietly, her voice gaining a bit of a husky tone from the escaped tears. "He has gone, to try to find his son who he thought was dead but who he has been told is yet alive," she explains, her voice still softly toned.
Desmond muses this quietly for a few moments after she has finished speaking. Once his muse is done, he leans forward slightly and straightens, approaching with slow, steady steps. Coming beside Monique, he dips to a knee and lifts his sketchpad. Carefully he will tear the page he'd been working on from the book and hand it to her. A rough sketch of she and Tornaq present on it, more of an outline, but with enough small details to give each figure identity. "I see," he rumbles after giving the page to her. "I am truly unsure what words I might offer you on this. I too have known loss, after having known the pleasure of company with another. I know not what to say to give comfort, though if I had the words, I would offer them freely. But, in the meantime, best it would be to fill your days with activity. It does help to take the mind away from stray thoughts that bring sadness. Seek fellowship with others to fill what is missing for a time."
A lingering moment does she stay laying there on the grass, listening to him draw near, though once he has come near, she lifts a hand to hastily wipe away the tears on one side of her face before pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her dark-eyed gaze turns to him, and she reaches out a hand to accept the page that he offers. Gazing to him for a lingering moment, she then lowers her gaze to look to the picture, which brings a warm smile to light her features. It also brings a sparkle to reflect in her dark eyes, and she lifts her gaze to him, gratitude in her expression. "Thank you... it is beautiful," she says softly, sincerely. "You would think, for the many Long Winters I have seen, that I would know to fill a day that feels never-ending with activity," she says softly, a small smile touching at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Desmond... very much," the small Inuit woman comments, truly sincere. Tornaq shifts his weight, then lifts his head to eye his small shaman, and he reaches out to touch her shoulder with his nose.
Desmond nods his head once. "There is no need for thanks, Monique. I would linger, but I have work soon that I must prepare for. But I shall seek you again in time. Or you might seek me, if you have need to share words again. One thing I can do well is listen and my ear is open to you." One large hand will left, to lightly lay upon her shoulder for a moment before it slips away and he stands to his full height. "Be well, Monique." A pause and a glance towards the great bear. "Tornaq." His head dipped for a moment.
The great white bear looks to Desmond, then whuffs softly before reaching out to softly nose Monique's shoulder closest to him. Keeping one hand on the page that she was gifted, she lifts her other hand to lightly touch the bear's nose, as though to reassure him. She'll be all right, it's just difficult for her right now. "I understand. I will seek you out if I have need of n ear. And thank you, for listening," she says softly, giving him a little smile as she looks up at him. She's a little better than when he first found her here, but still not normal. "Be well, Desmond," she says softly, inclining her head to him. Tornaq whuffs softly at him, as though offering a farewell of his own.
Desmond nods once and makes note of what has and has not changed quietly. "Farewell." Simply rumbled as he turns to take his leave, carefully closing his sketchpad as he walks, the pencil slid back into his jacket as he strides away at a steady pace.Tags:desmond, monique
