Jun 02 16:36:49 108 PA - Two More New Acquaintences

From Chronicles

Jun 02 16:36:49 108 PA.

COLOSSUS MONUMENT

Constant moderate rain can put a dampener on the summer park crowds. Indeed as evening creeps in early with the help of the deep grey heavy clouds people are scarce. They can be generalized into three sorts. The EBAs, unhindered by any sort of weather short of another apocalypse. The prepared, probably the most sensible, simply dressed for the weather as it is. And the foolish, who at this point look like drowned rats. One girl looks somewhere between sensible and EBA, her white suit looking a bit soft for armor but holding up none the less. Between its tight fit and hood she almost looks like a ninja, or a very dedicated jogger. And jogging she is, very quickly.

Then there are neither the prepared, the unhindered, or the foolish. These are the fascinated. A large man carrying an equally large pack full of scrap metal stands before the Monument. Well over six feet, and approaching three hundred pounds of muscle. Hard working muscle, not gym muscle. Dark hair that somehow manages to maintain its wavy nature as it falls to his shoulders. The leather coat does a decent job of sluicing rain, but otherwise, not much else does. His eyes roam over the strange vehicle, his face in a set as if it's far more foreign to him than even people who haven't seen it before. Rubidia's approach is noted with equal interest, yet he remains completely silent, eyes wide, glancing around.

With the rain deterring the majority of people, Sage has found her way into the park with a sensible dress to keep the worse of the weather from slicking off her clothing. She picks her way with care around the park, with a watchfulness. Her attention seems to be towards the park itself than an apparent constructive chore.

Rubidia closes on the monument quickly. Far quicker than most people jog. Sure juicers can jog at 15 miles an hour. But Rubidia lacks such a drug harness. Skidding to a stop at the monument beside Pavel she gently touches it before checking her watch. "Ten seconds! Woohoo!" She exclaims, obviously achieving something in this as she jumps up and down with accomplishment.

The largish man looks at the quickly moving woman and though smiling, the word, "Allo" comes out as a grunt. Then, "I sorry. No good." He taps at his lips and head. Then, "Ees.. ess vet? Move fahst, yoo. Ees vet?" Pavel quirks his head to look at the woman. He sounds out very slowly the words, 'ten seconds' as if they're foreign to him.

Figures over by the tower come to Sage's attention as she begins to step out from the trees where she'd been roaming. Curious about who would be gathering there spurs her into moving towards it. One of them seeming to have a familiar aspect to it. She'll keep quiet for the time being as she approaches, though.

Rubidia puzzles her face as she turns to the large man looking momentarily uncertain. Indeed with such a heavy accent it could be difficult to distinguish the original language from the second. Still, acting on a hunch she asks in fluent Russian "(You speak Russian? I just made it here from the south end of town 10 seconds faster than yesterday.)" She explains to him.

The man's face instantly brightens further beyond its previously interested expression. Then, in absolutely impeccable Russian comes, << Yes, yes! I speak Russian, I've always spoken Russian! You really move quickly, like the women from my town. Are you from Russia? >> The woman in the oncoming dress receives an interested look, but otherwise Rubidia remains the target of his enthusiasm. << I'm Pavel Nikolayevich. >> Then come the words, "kak vy nazyvaetes," which are sometimes difficult for non-native speakers, as they are technically a polite and formal introduction, but directly translated are, "How are you called?"

As she approaches, Sage catches parts of the conversation that sounds kind of like what Rasputin does at times. Although, unlike Rasputin, there is no English mixed in with the other words and leave her to be left out of the conversation. She reaches out to the other woman's mind to offer a mental greeting as she recognizes the woman, but her gaze shifts to consider the man.

"(I'm Rubidia, and this is Sage.)" Rubidia returns to Pavel, suddenly introducing the approaching woman. "(She doesn’t speak Russian but she is telepathic. So I'll translate for her if that’s ok.)" She explains, relaying it all mentally to Sage as well. "(I'm not from Russia but have spent a lot of time there. I visit about once a month.)"

<< Yes, yes, thank you. It's nice to meet you, Rubidia. You must not be of Russian descent, if you are only 'Rubidia.' From somewhere else? >> He then extends a large catcher's mitt of a hand in Sage's direction, and does his best self-introductory, "Allo. I Pavel Nikolayevich. No good tahlk." Again, he gestures to his mouth. << What does telepathic mean? >> However, he does smile at both women and allows, << Please, if you can interpret for me, that would be very nice of you. >>

With her initial impression may have been that her presence may have been awkward, Sage offers a small smile to Rubidia at the translation offered. "Thank you." She says towards before looking to the man. The extending of the man is taken for a brief handshake, her grip being firm for her. "Nice to meet you." She says simply before looking over towards the other woman. She considers the translations being offered. "He doesn't know what it means? I wonder how he would react to knowing..." She comments with more curiosity than anything else before looking back to the man.

Rubidia shrugs slightly to Sage. "They shake hands in Russia." She assures before translating for Pavel. "(Telepathic means speak with ones mind, which we both can do. And I'm from Scotland originally, small isolated community, no need for last names really. Actually in many places last names have become less common these days.)" She relates before looking back to Sage. "I think he understands English, but his accent was so thick, worse than Rasputin's."

<< I'm sorry, Rubidia, I've never heard of Scotland. Is it nearby? >> He then clarifies with a rather knowing grin, << My surname is 'Lavochkin.' 'Nikolayevich' is the patronymic passed along from my father. I have two more for the appropriate situations - in Russia, it's quite the code to keep track of people, but at least you know exactly to whom you're speaking. >> Pavel glances between the two women again and confirms, << Yes, we shake hands. But we normally kiss cheeks. I've found that that greeting isn't very well taken here. Reading minds? A gypsy? >>

"His hands are a bit cold." Sage mentions when she takes her hand back before tucking her hands into her pockets for a moment. She looks between the two, but as they speak and considering the translations being offered. "Must be a culture thing but I've known good friends to kiss cheeks. Not strangers, though." She comments before raising a brow then glancing towards Rubidia. "I'm not sure what he means... do gypsies use telepathy a lot?"

Rubidia nods to Sage before shaking her head to Pavel. "(No, she's not a gypsy. She's more akin to the Mystics of the motherland who practice the old ways. The Stewards of Nature. Here the word is druid.)" She explains before looking back to Sage. "Psychic abilities are quite common among gypsies."

Pavel smiles in Sage's direction. Not a stupid toothy grin, just by necessity of structure, a big one. << Gypsies, they say they see the future. Some of them seem like they can, most of them play parlor tricks on the innocent and unsuspecting. >> He can't help but frown at that, as any good person would in those circumstances. "Drooeed," he says, doing his best to make shapes of his mouth to pronounce tones foreign to him. He looks between the two women with an expression that says, 'here I go needing to explain this one more time.' Not annoyed, but humorous. << I am a simple blacksmith, but not so simple. The god Svarog the Divine, highest of the highest gods instructed to be.. more than a simple blacksmith. Honestly I didn't want it, but I was chosen, and you don't tell a god 'no.' It's been a good life. >> He rubs his skin, holding one bare hand out for each to touch, if they're interested. << It was a transformation, in many ways. Now I am cold, like the metal I work. But strangers still kiss cheeks, >> he ends with a smile.

Sage's gaze continues to drift between the two people with a thoughtful look. "Yes, I imagine you could refer me to a druid.. despite my current choice for homes." She replies with a little humour near the end of it. Once she hears the man's comments about gypsies, "The future can be hard to see... many possibilities..." She offers before shrugging, "Not that I have audiences typically when I try to see." She considers the man when he speaks about who he is, but declines touching the man as she's already felt it. "Ah, that would explain it." She nods faintly.

Rubidia smirks at Sage as she doesn’t seem to be avoiding Gypsy similarities so well. "Gypsies are a colorful sort of people. Psychics, magicians, conjurers and charlatans. Oh and always thieves. They can be the best of friends, but still are what they are." She explains before looking back to Pavel. "(A mystic Kuznya. Such a rare honor. What brings a reforger of the homeland so far from her soils though I wonder?)" She asks and looks back to Sage again. He can magically enhance metal, to extremes I hear."

Pavel considers the two women before answering, << I was moving from city to city, as we do - the Mystic Kuznya. But the town I was in was attacked, I really don't know by who, but it was being destroyed, everyone killed. A... shifter? He saved some of us, brought us to the Federation of Magic, where I have been living. >> There's then a smirk at his own obvious shortcomings. << I am apparently very poor at learning new languages. But I speak Euro. >> The large man extends another, unnecessarily greeting hand toward Sage, grinding out a heavily accented, "I sahy Euro speek, okahy. Sage speek?" Other interests are set aside in the interest of communication for the moment.

Sage ahs softly to Rubidia's explanation, "No, while I have some similarities to them it seems, I am not a gypsy... I mainly seek to help or assist as I'm able. Not deceive or steal from others." She comments before shrugging faintly. She considers the man once more with interest as it seems the man isn't the type to be expected to stray away from the motherland. She pauses before shaking her hand, "If it were Spanish, I would be able to..."

Rubidia shakes her head to Pavel, appearing to barely understand the switch. "(Triax's language, not one I can translate well.)" She says before appearing to have an idea. "(You understand English well Pavel?)" She asks.

The only person in the area carrying a Y-chromosome looks to Rubidia with nod of his head as if to encourage her to pass along his words. In Russian, << I've heard Spanish, I have heard some other languages. Russian and Euro, I'm very good with them. Others, no. I can understanding the common language here, just not speak it. Not all words, but enough, >> Pavel nods to Rubidia. Sage receives, even if she can't directly understand it, << It's good to not steal or deceive, but to give, particularly if you have a special ability that many others lack. >> His countenance then droops a little. << My first hour here, my first few steps, carrying my goods on a metal sheet, a very tall woman tried to steal my things. Not such a nice introduction to Kingsdale. >>

Sage nods and smiles softly, "Of course, some would say that I can try to give too much and not take enough for myself." She comments, before chuckling faintly and shrugging. Then a faint frown comes to the man's comment about a very tall woman. "No, I don't suppose it would be..."

Rubidia nods and pulls her hood back to reveal her head of long faint hair and delicate features as well as a rather high tech headset. Removing it she hands it to Sage. "Has a translator." She says with a smirk before looking back to Pavel. "(Trying to steal your stuff? Why?)"

Pavel points to Sage meaningfully. << Yes, yes. Some like me, some who make Svarog very angry, they profit from what we can do. Profit is fine, making a living is fine, I certainly enjoy having enough money to show myself a good time. But others? They pretend that they give, but in reality it's simple theft through a version of blackmail. If you're the only person who can supply the one item that everyone needs, you can charge whatever you want for it. >> He pauses, then adds with grin, << I like making silverware. >> Why this information seems important to him, who knows. His lips slide sideways as he answers Rubidia. << Why does anyone steal? They want something that they don't have, and they're unwilling to work or trade for it. Doesn't matter what it is that's being stolen, that's why. But... does everyone in this city stand around outside in the rain? I am happy to make new acquaintances, but not at their expense in the weather. >> His ears quirked, and he nodded at 'translator.'

Sage's attention turns to Rubidia before she smiles, "Ah, thank you." She replies as she takes the device to slip it quickly under her hood to keep it from getting wet in the weather. "He does have a point about the weather." She comments, "There are probably some places in the marketplace that wouldn't mind having a few potential customers right now."

Rubidia says, "Hot Chocolate!" Rubidia exclaims at the suggestion and suddenly she is off at a extremely fast mad dash for decadence.

Pavel is taken rather by surprise as Rubidia runs off, barely even having time to call out, "Do svidaniya!" A shrug, and his full attention is directed at the remaining woman. He taps his ear. << You can understand me now? My knowledge of technology is even worse than my grasp of foreign languages, I really don't know what or how things do what they do. Do you want to get out of the rain? >> Yes, his Russian impeccable, with what those in the know would recognize as a southern Ural dialect and accent.

With the woman's exclamation and quick departure, Sage only manages to blurt out. "Save some for me?" Whether the other woman hears it or not is another matter. There's no way she could keep up with Rubidia either. It takes her a moment to get used to the device Rubidia gave her but she nods faintly after that. "It seems to be working... but don't ask me how it works either." She comments before shrugging faintly, "We might be able to catch up to her at the coffeeshop... although, I suppose she could have gone anywhere when you can travel like she does." She comments before she turns to begin walking towards the path that leads out of the park.

Having nowhere else to go, Pavel shrugs, turns, whips his head around to shake some of the water out of his shoulder-length hair, and follows Sage. << You've been here a long time, Sage? A druid, a keeper of nature in the city? That seems like a strange combination, if I may say that without sounding insulting. >> His own strides are of necessity somewhat awkward, as even just his normal pace would take him past her, not because he hurries, just because it's a long distance between feet. << You said that you have a strange home? I'm staying at the Inn right now, but I'm building a place for myself outside these walls. They're much too confining, and they don't have a place for my work, either. >>

"A while, yes... a couple years, if not more." Sage replies, "I led people of a wilderness community here to flee from what turned out to be an undead threat... things developed that had me setting down roots... but who can say how things will go." She doesn't go into specifics, though. "It doesn't stop me from re-affirming myself with nature, though. And, not strange for a city... more strange for the reason you said before." She comments, before looking to the man with a raised brow. "What kind of place will it be?"

The man shrugs, a long rolling motion of his shoulders. << I'm a blacksmith. A forge, and a place to live. Coal, a brick-and-clay hearth, hand-blown bellows... I don't know how you make your living, but when you make a living with your hands, I find that it's best if you actually do work with your hands. No better sensors than those given to us naturally. Where are we going? >> Pavel falls in next to Sage. He then comments, << I don't know much of anything about the 'undead.' >> Even in his own language, it seems like a foreign word.

Sage ahs softly, "Then you are perhaps going to have a place that is both work and home as well." She comments, before considering the man. Well, it seems clear enough that the man isn't normal given the way his hand felt and things that he has said that she holds off commenting about hands being sensors. She purses her lips at the man's comment. "Things that should be dead, but move as if they still live." She comments, before gesturing in the direction of the coffeeshop, "Over there." She offers afterward.

<< Ah. >> "Ostavil mertvym." The translator may or may not have difficulty translating the Russian term that essentially means 'undead' but directly translates to 'forsaken dead.' Pavel gazes on to the coffeeshop, laughs a big rolling laugh in his enormously deep voice, and says, << Coffee sounds good. It's bright. And dry! >> Indeed, he'll likely take the lead to move off and move in. Jovial, but perhaps not gentlemanly and holding doors open for anyone at the moment.