Jun 28 23:09:59 105 PA

From Chronicles

The current game time is: Sun Jun 28 23:09:59 105 PA.

Desmond is sitting near the fountain once more. A pleasant spot for him and for the task at hand. He scratches at his notepad, rather than his sketchpad. Casually scrawling words in his careful, blocky hand. The late evening leaves the garden only lightly populated, few near to spy on the big male. He pauses amid his writing, lifting his head to gaze at the water that babbles near him. He's sitting at a bit of an angle so he can comfortably let his eyes stray to it, watching how it falls from where it spouts. Ears perked, listening to the calming noise. He muses the water briefly before he looks down to start scratching out letters again.

Caliopa appears, a bag of books over her shoulder, the inevitable smudges of oil over her face with the remains of some on her well washed hands. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, the red strands brushing her cheeks as she moves. She glances around the gardens, hesitating in the entrance, oblivious to those trying to pass her, until her gaze lands on Desmond. Her smile appears, sunny, brightening her face and deepening the dimples.

Desmond holds a somewhat oblique expression himself. Not dour, but there is a tense sort of focus in his expression. Deep thoughts rolling through his mind, some of those choice tidbits transfered to paper. Occasionally something is scratched out with a line drawn through. Though after a few moments he breathes out a deep breath and stops. his head lifting, the notebook laid on his leg lightly as he lets his mind relax from the intense focus of before. He'll glance about, in a casual way, taking in the surroundings lightly. Which ends with his eyes passing over Cali. His eyes pause and, though he doesn't smile in return, he lifts a hand, making a welcoming gesture towards her, which can also be taken as a greeting by its very nature.

She hesitates, a small pucker between her eyes as she meets that look, before she moves over. "Desmond. I ain't intrudin' am I?" She doesn't sit, hugging her bag of books, her brown eyes uncertain as she fails to translate his expression into something she recognises. "Drawin', again?" The question is tentative, matching her expression.

"Come, you may sit if you like," Desmond offers to her, his eyes dipping towards the blench space near him briefly before lifting again. She could see that words, not pictures occupy the notepad, but it would take a bit of a closer look to absorb the meaning in them. "I am.. considering the proper words for Aimee," he tells her. "It seems many will be the words I need to speak." His voice lowered, discreet between the two of them. "Words for the proposal and words for the ritual itself. Vows, they are called. A fitting term, I think."

She settles, putting the bag to one side, sitting crosslegged on the bench beside him. One hand lifts, tucking red strands behind her ear, her eyes thoughtful. "Vows are the bit for the weddin', not really the askin', I reckoned?" She doesn't sound completely sure, biting her lower lip, the brown eyes holding the hesitancy. "Proposal is right. What you gonna say? If it ain't intrudin' or something." She doesn't quite lean over to look but only because she holds the curiousity in her eyes in check.

"I am considering both, for they should be given much thought," Des rumbles. He looks down to his notepad, considering the words he's written down. "To be honest, what I have written.. I don't believe it to be good." He looks to her and wonders, "How can one truly place emotion into words? Art is more expressive, I believe. Words are very.. dry at times. Part of me thinks I should simply speak from within when I give to her the first ring. But.. I am concerned that I might speak improperly."

"Ain't just sayin' Marry me, enough? I mean, it covers the basics and anything more might jus' get messy..." Again, she doesn't look certain on her ground here. "I mean. I guess some folks might cover it with flowery words, make it more shiny, but mostly, you gotta say I love you, want to spend my life with you, will you marry me so folks know we feel like that." She blushes deeply, glancing away, embarrassed by her long speech, for her.

Desmond listens to Caliopa thoughtfully. And, though there is some mild consternation at the thought of being so.. simple, he allows, "I am one to do things simply at times. But.. it feels like I should not be.. simple at this moment. I wish this to be special for her. To be memorable. In words, but so too in setting.. to make it romantic." He frowns slightly, though not in any negative sense. More a vague note of uncertainty. "Though still I'm not sure of a proper place for this. A place that is special for us."

She chews on her lower lip, her eyebrows drawing together in the perplexion that rises when faced with complex emotions. "Uh, I guess. I figure that I'd just say it but you ain't me, and she ain't, for sure." She smiles then, brown eyes warming. "Ain't a bad thing though, I figure, you doin' all this. Like Atti bringin' me stuff to eat. Shows what matters." She leans her cheek against her knee, giving Desmond a warm smile.

Desmond nods his head, catching upon that. "I wish her to know that I care for her deeply. I wish her to know that I do not do this because she wants it, but because I do, in a manner of speaking. I do not strictly believe in the ritual, but I would share a life with her. Share this close bond together." He pauses, expression firming for a moment as he considers. "That is what I wish to express to her. That I see our future as one shared together. In good and bad. That no matter what comes, I would not wish it any other way." The big male listens to his own words, muses them quietly after he has said them and falls silent.

"I guess Atti already knows I feel like that. I know he does, 'cause he shows every day, with little stuff, like feedin' me, givin' me a hug when things ain't so clear, and stuff." Her cheeks are pink now, her gaze skittering away from him, towards the water. "Guess we'd only get wed if we figured we need to tell other folks 'bout how we feel." The simple viewpoint of a simple woman, spoken perhaps a little less clearly. "Maybe, and I ain't sure about this, you oughtn't tell her you don't believe, else she might reckon you are just doin' it to please her and not for you."

Desmond cants his head slightly. "But it is the truth and I am honest with her.. indeed, she likely already knows this as I have said such things to her before." He pauses, frowning slightly as he considers the possibilities. "Perhaps this will be of issue then. As she knows this already." Some concern in his expression that there could already be an obstacle. "I will resolve to convince her that I don't just do this for her. I do it for us. I do not deny that, in part, it is to please her. But so too is it because I wish her to dwell with me.. and if this will cement our bond, so too do I desire it for that."

The long speech brings deeper looks of confusion to those brown eyes, topped by the eyebrows that knot, unable to follow Desmond's quick links of emotion. "Seems like she ain't half hard work, Desmond. Ain't sure if I'd figure out her reckonin' like you do." She shakes her head, the strands flying, before she tucks them behind her ears. A hesitation, before she blurts out, "You don't reckon less of me for not comin' and fightin' the other day?"

"She is worth it," Desmond responds to the first without a flicker of hesitation. Though bemusement does rise as she asks after 'the other day'. "I am not sure what you ask after, Cali. But I do not think poorly of you for when you chose not to battle. In life there are those who are meant for such things and those who are not. it is true that I do not think of you as being one for battle, but that is not a thing to be ashamed of. You are not trained for it.. you are not hardened to it. And, at your core, you are not the sort who takes to it, even if such training were yours. Your skills lie elsewhere and you excel at them."

Relief floods the woman's expressive face, shining in her eyes as they finally return to Desmond's face. "I ain't, not a fighter, not suited to it. I ain't able to figure how folks like you, Atti, 'n' all do it." She hugs her knees, chewing her lower lip, giving him a thoughtful look. "Atti 'n' I, we figured that he'd spend more time worryin' over me bein' there, and I'd not be of use, just bein' in the way."

Desmond nods his head once. "Cali, you should not fear to go as your nature goes. My nature leans towards battle. I lean against it with art, that is true, but so too do I hone my skills in battle to keep them sharp. For those skills are part of who I am. At my core, I am a warrior. Likely, in part, it is from the beasts whose shape I hold. A feral instinct. For Atticus, I know not. But for all, I would say that what drives them is different from those around them." He considers for a moment before he wonders, "You and your skills.. what would you say draws you to machines and the ways of their workings?"

She considers that question, her face thoughtful, the soft lines drawing into expressions that match the slow thinking going on behind them. "They make sense, and I understand them. It ain't just that I can touch them and listen, 'n' all that, but ..." She hesitates, searching for the words to express herself, "My pa showed me, and I done it all my life. I used to sneak down, work with him, when my ma thought I was doin' other stuff. Used to turn up covered in grease, get a yellin'." Her face softens in memory, the feelings for her father showing on the surface. "Machines are safe, Desmond. They ain't messy, nor stupid over little things."

Desmond nods his head once. "They are your path because you understand them. Myself.. such things are not for me," he responds steadily. "Though it is not an unfavorable thing to stray from the comfortable path from time to time. To do what is unfamiliar. Safety is good, but so too can it isolate. So too will those things unfamiliar remain so if you look not to them." There no concrete aim in his words. Expressing to her some honest, unfocused thoughts towards the mysteries of life.

She nods slowly, biting her lower lip before replying slowly, her voice soft as each word is thought out before emerging. "Before I came here, before the CS took my pa and ma, I never spent time with folks. Didn't seem of interest, so I just worked with pa, and then, when they took them, I just worked for this bloke..." She shrugs, hugging her knee, the expression on her face showing this is something barely spoken. "Only really bothered with folks since here, since Atti and Kid got me to figure them as something worth lookin' over."

"You and I are similar in that way, Cali," Desmond rumbles thoughtfully. "Before I came to be here, there were many things I did not look to. They weren't important. I ate simply. Lived simply. Aimee has taught me much since then. About foods and in the many things to enjoy that I had not before. These things are important. Are worthy. As you say, other people can be a trial. They aren't strictly logical, aren't truly safe all the time. But there will be those who bring new life to you. New experiences, new thoughts and such things."

"Food ain't just 'bout not being hungry, and havin' the energy to work, Atti shown me." She smiles, her eyes lighting up at his name, "Things that ain't just 'bout havin' the needs to live, and stuff like that." The words are muddled but the emotion behind them is clear in her eyes, the joy of living. "They ain't logical at all, and I don't figure that they'll make any more sense the time I spend with them. But I ain't had friends before, not that didn't want something done." She gives him a shy look, with a small shrug, "Kinda like it."

Desmond seems to catch upon her thoughts easily enough, his head nodded as she speaks. "You may count me amongst one of those. And I am glad you find other about you a favorable thing. There will be times sense will not be made.. perhaps even I will bring you such times, but you should not turn away from those things uncomfortable, for those too are part of existence. Facing the trials in life and surmounting them is important. Many are the trials I have faced. And many of them have made me stronger in a way."

"It ain't easy to tell when folks are, or ain't." She hesitates, uncertain of sharing this perplexion with him. "I reckoned I had something in common with someone, figured we could make a friendship but next time I saw him, he weren't friendly, then he asks Atti if we can have dinner. I ain't likin' the ..." She uses her hand to illustrate her words, shaking it from side to side, fingers outstretched. "Ain't a piece of sense to it."

Desmond seems bemused by the finger motions made, head tilted slightly to his right. "Common interest is often a means to friendship, but more so is personality. No doubt there are many who favor combat who I would take to, but so will there be those who I don't." He cants his head forward slightly towards Cali. "So too are you and I very different in many ways, yet we get along well. It is simply a mix of many aspects that decide compatibility."

She nods slowly, the confusion in those expressive brown eyes unabated. "Reckon it must be so. It seems like there oughta be a logical list of things that make folks into a shape of person I can be friends with, if that makes a piece of sense." She shrugs, giving him a small rueful look, "Atti tells me it ain't likely to be so, and neither you nor Kid nor Atti nor Kalvin are alike."

Desmond shakes his head slightly at that. "If there is, it is of a depth and complexity that defies a mind such as my own to comprehend. Better it is to simply let what shall be come to be. Even if it sometimes brings bad moments. It took a dire moment for me to realize my love for Aimee. Had that not occurred.. I k now not what would have happened for us. Perhaps I would not have come to know her so well. Perhaps we would be where we are today.. but then perhaps not. I would not chance going back to change what has brought me here, despite the pain of it."

She gives him a small smile, rueful, the humour in her eyes shining through. "It ain't unusual to try and figure out the things that don't make sense and put them in order. Seems it don't work with folks, not much." She shrugs lightly, dropping her feet to the floor, resting her hands on the edge of the seat. "Guess folks end up in different places, from the folks they meet. Katsumi, Atticus, Kid... ain't gonna have been the same, not without them."

Desmond nods his head once to that. "Such is the way of life. The threads of light and dark weaving into the image of one's life. My past.. your past, both a mix of such things. It may not make the hard times easier, but it might strengthen one's resolve to not let them draw down their outlook on life itself. In the now, I feel that I can face any hardship, knowing that I must face it to remake it to a positive. Or to at least balance out the negative that has come."

She nods slowly, the strands of hair falling forward to brush her cheeks as she does so. "Figuring out that havin' friends like you, Kid, Atti, Kalvin..." A shadow of worry flits through her eyes, "It makes dealin' with things that ain't right easier. Bein' able to tell Atti that I ain't got flu, that I'm shit scared of goin' to fight them vampires, that means something." That burst of confidences past, she tucks her head down, pushing the hair behind her ear.

"Fear is natural. All feel it. Even I, though perhaps you think that an unlikely thing. Of course, not all fear comes of battle and danger, but from other aspects of life as well," Desmond feels compelled to note. Though he does catch on to that flicker of worry and after a pause he asks, "Something concerns you? Perhaps I need not say it, but you may tell me of what troubles you if something give you cause for concern. I cannot promise that I can aid, but at times talk can set one at ease."

She hesitates only for a moment before confiding the worry, the emotion itself shining in her eyes, "Kalvin ain't here. He is missin', and Atti 'n' Kid, they done everythin' to find him. Kinda traced him so far, then he just ain't there." Simple, not so clear but simple. "It ain't like him to just up and dump work, and it ain't like he can have two of them episodes in a year or so..." She blushes deeply, then, before shaking her head, dismissing the episode. "Was with that Sev person that bought Atti the faked arm, and then gone..."

There is an obvious sense of bemusement for the details of things for Desmond. Considering the information given, he offers, "I would assist in this if I could, but I doubt that I would be of use for such a thing. My skills like in combat primarily, though I do have some skill in tracing targets through the wilds. It isn't something I have had a great deal of practice in this skill as of late, however. But if you find him and there are those that stand in your way, I would offer my services in clearing your path to him."

She smiles then, giving him a look of clear gratitude. "Thanks Desmond. Reckon whereever he is, it ain't gonna be easy to get him." She sighs, leaning forward slightly, pushing herself to her feet. "Guess I oughta head home, else Atti'll reckon I got took by aliens or something." The warm smile she has for Desmond is obvious, "You come by and let me know what you end up with, and if she says yes?"

Desmond nods his head once at that."I will, when the time comes for it. I am still seeking just the right ring. But once I have it.. perhaps that will be the time. I thank you for your words on that as well." He remains seated, but his attention lifts with her and he offers, "Have a good evening, Cali. Be well and do not hesitate to come to me if you have need of what is within my skills."

She nods, giving him that sunny smile before she turns to hurry towards the exit. The book bag over her shoulder bounces with the steps, and her thoughts show on her face, as they turn towards home, and Atticus.

When Cali departs, Desmond glances back down to his little notepad. Casually flipping through the pages. Though in the now he finds his desire to write waning. The words don't come.. at least, none that seem worthy of being documented. His expression dipping down into a simple state of neutral. After a few minutes of considering the small object he closes and stuffs it into an inner pocket inside his jacket, along with his pencil.That done, he looks to the water and lets his thoughts drift as he takes in the sight and sound of it quietly.

Athelstane comes down the stair into the garden, the sound of his cane impacting with each step overpowering the sound of his comparatively mild steps. He stops on the last step, looking about with an unconcealed appreciation of his surroundings. In so doing he appears to notice Desmond, and recognize him. He doffs his cap with a smile as he steps off the stair and into the garden proper.

With his head turned slightly to the side, the big feline is fixed on the water, absorbing the sensations from it mutely as counterpoint to his silent thoughts. A few moments after 'stane comes to enter the garden, Des lightly breaks from his fixation. A deeper breath draw and released as he turns his attention outward. he slow sweep of his eyes ends with his attention fixing on the human man who has recognized him. A vague sense of remembrance coming to the big male as he considers the well dressed man lightly.

Athelstane comes along silently to come and stand nearby Desmond. His attention however goes to the fountain and water at first, looking over the whole layout afterward. Planting his cane in the turf and leaning thereon he finally returns his attention to the feline-man. "Good Day." he offers softly. "I hope I do not disturb you."

"Greetings to you," Desmond returns in his deep, rumbling basso profundo, a subtle roll given to his 'r's. "I am undisturbed as of yet, for I am currently not fixated on anything in particular. Though I wonder if you desire something, for it is a rare thing for that to be asked unless someone is seeking something." He considers the human briefly be fore he adds, "Though I do not know what you might seek, if you do."

Athelstane nods slowly, adjusting his grip on his cane. A long moment is taken to consider his words. "I seek nothing in particular." he says at last. "Though I do admit, having overheard you speaking with someone else the other day, you have caught my interest. I have travelled a great deal, and... most people are the same. There are few of a true will."

Desmond cants his head slightly. "Yes, you were there when I was speaking with Monique," he states, that much returning to him from the brief meeting of before. "True will, you say? What would be your definition of this True Will? Such a term seems quite abstract, the definition certain to change from one to another." The words spoken with that steady neutrality, the big feline showing a leaning towards neither positive nor negative in the now.

automotive mechanics, but can the same person design Aircraft without Aircraft engineer? Athelstane nods approvingly, his features coming to a small smile. "Indeed, it can. Yet, in some ways, that is the definition. The will to decide for oneself, to not be dominated by others, and ... for example, the will to fight and use force if the need should arise. Whereas most people shy away from that which is uncomfortable. Especially the use of force."

"I have no issue with the use of force." Something that Desmond states with a steady simplicity. "So too, I am one with a particular distaste for being controlled by the will of others. But it is true, some seem to accept such things more than others for whatever reasons." Still the feline man continues to regard 'stane with that balanced neutrality. "What other observations have you made about me? Or do you seek to make about others."

Athelstane scratches his chin for a moment, turning his gaze back to the fountain for a moment. "For the most part that is all I've observed. As I said however, that observation alone is the quality I most prize in people. And so, it caught my attention."

Desmond nods his head once to that. "I see." Those two words uttered in a thoughtful way. "You may question me if you wish, though I assume you will not feel slighted if there are things I would not speak to you of in the now. Being a person who I know little of. Whether or not I favor your attention, of course, is something to be determined over time." All stated within that thin, deft line of neutrality, the big male seeming quite focused and controlled between his mannerisms and deliberately spoken words.

Athelstane smiles, then chuckles softly. "Ah, a kindred soul indeed. And I do not seek to question you. Merely to greet, and offer that companionship and camaraderie that I might." he says, shrugging. "For as much myself as you. I have not long been a resident of this City. And so it pleased me to find one similar to myself."

Desmond cants his head slightly at that. Paused a moment as he studies the human carefully. Though in that one might almost feel he is using a sense other than the common five in the precise feeling of his attention. Though only briefly before that sense fades. "Similarities we might share, but so too do we have differences," he rumbles. "Of course, I'm not sure precisely what manner of companionship you might be seeking, amongst the many varieties that exist."

Athelstane again pauses to consider his words, but not for long this time. "I am curious what manner of work or profit a fellow man of will seeks for himself in this strange place with so many options. I hear tell that this place is famous for it's mercenaries, and have considered so engaging myself, though I am not quite certain it would be the best way for me. If I did decide to pursue such, I would seek to surround myself with men of quality. If not, at least I may gain a friend and ally. Nothing more or less."

Athelstane is standing near the sitting Desmond, leaning on his cane and admiring the fountain. The two are talking in normal tones.

"Currently I do work for Pro Tech, largely manual labor. I have yet to take a shine to mercenary work in general. I currently have a preference for something more steady than mercenary work tends towards. That is not to say that I do not from time to time do such work when tasks fall into my hands, so to speak. But I do not actively seek them," Desmond replies. He is sitting at the fountain, whilst 'stane stands nearby currently. The time is late evening. "Perhaps in the future I might seek something of that nature, but in the now I do not feel myself leaning towards it."

Athelstane nods after a moment, again taking his time in responding. "I think I shall end up going the latter route myself." he says, turning squarely to face the other man now. "I am Athelstane Montague by the way. I regret not having a proper introduction with you sooner. Very pleased to meet you."

"Desmond," returns the so named cat man. "In truth, there is much potential change to come in my life in the immediate. Until I have discovered where all things shall settle, a simple and regular job is best, to maintain the current status of matters." When comes Lucy's call out, Desmond pauses and looks towards her, his expression remaining in that natural neutrality. "Lucy," he rumbles in return, the name spoken with a tone of greeting. "I am well, I assume the same is true for yourself."

Athelstane takes a soft step backwards, removing himself from between the other two. Doffing his cap towards Lucy, he makes a very slight and crisp bow in greeting. "Good Day." he says, smiling. Then, turning back towards Desmond he nods approvingly. "There are definate advantages to stability. One can not fault your logic Sir." he comments, his expression approving. "My offer still stands, even so. If your arrangements are complicated I would confer with you further. A alliance, indeed a friendship, is not a one way affair after all."

"Yes, thank you, Desmond!" Lucy says cheerily. her coat is unbuttoned to the waist now, held closed only by the cinched waistband, and her body is exposed in all its splendor - at least, that's usually what men think. She's wearing a green halter top and black leather miniskirt that show off her wares to the finest, though keeping her sides concealed. "May I get you a parrot?" she inquires of the new man, laughing and placing a hand on his arm, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. My name is Lucy. Lucy McDermott." She extends a hand out in greeting.

Desmond turns his attention back towards Athelstane with a subtle furrow of his brow, prompted by his talk of alliance and arrangements. "I would agree with your last assessment, but friendship and alliance are two entirely different things," he states, considering the human male with an added bit of attention. "Friendship itself is a faceted thing. I hardly know you well enough to profess friendship on any but the lightest of levels, let alone though towards alliance. Such a thing would require a good deal of trust, which comes only over time." Of course, even as he says these things, there is no real negative connotation to his tone. Simply a few facts laid out in a neat line.

Athelstane 's attention is momentarily diverted to the hand placed on his arm which seems to urge him to take another gentle step backwards. Settling some of his weight back onto his cane, it placed before him and held with both hands, he takes a breath and lets it out. "Athelstane Montague. I believe we met before the other day M'Lady." he says, curiousity growing in his eyes. "Though you presented quite a different image then." he says, a quirking at one corner of his mouth.

He then nods towards Desmond, and his words. "Indeed, it is so. Yet a long process is best begun sooner, if you follow my meaning. And thus my directness."

Lucy looks puzzled. "We met all ready?" she shakes her head and holds it in her hands. "I have a terrible memory for faces, at least in my short term memory. I'll remember you in the long term, but the short term - well, I admit, I can be flighty." The woman laughs at herself and apologizes once more. But at the mention of an image, she narrows her eyes slightly and wiggles one eyebrow, batting her eyelashes in turn, cocking a hip at to one side and leaning and arm on the other. She purrs in a low soprano, "Is this more of what you had in mind?" She then laughs again and says, "I apologize, that's my working persona."

"This much is true, I suppose," Desmond replies steadily to the response from Athelstane. "But it is strange for one to declare their aim in such a way." The big male pausing briefly to consider that. Though the precise nature of those thoughts goes unsaid. His eyes slide towards Lucy as she speaks, the big male considering her with the same thoughtful air. But again, he is silent on what runs behind his firm set expression.

Athelstane blinks as his expression betrays a mild distaste, turning his body more fully towards Desmond now as he makes a mild gesture of dismissal and speaks towards Lucy. "No. I'm not in the market as it were my dear. I prefer my goods unadulterated and for my own personal use." Another breath is taken and then let out. Now he speaks to Desmond. "Perhaps it is a manner to which you are unaccustomed. Perhaps at that. I shall let you think on it then. There really is no urgency."

Lucy withholds her hand from her first instinct of slapping the arrogant man across the face and sending his head spinning around on his neck. "You, Mr. Montague, are quite the rude man, are you not? Even a whore deserves a modicum of respect. Human decency, at the very least." She lets out a piqued "Hmm!" and punctuates the end of her statement with a brusque nod of her head. She turns her attention from the pirate-man and speaks to Desmond. "How are things, Desmond? They go well, I hope? Your new job, it suits you?"

Desmond nods his head once to Athelstane. "Unaccustomed to, yes. Such things are usually unsaid and simply manifest. Truth be told, I am not quite sure what to make of a prestated goal such as this." Then his brows hike slightly as Lucy tells off 'stane, eyes flicking between the two smoothly. There is a judicious quiet on his part until Lucy turns her curiosity on him. "Any task which requires the exertion of my personal strength to a significant degree suits me," Desmond replies freely enough. "It is not so tiring as it once was, now that I am used to it. But it makes for a steady sense of fulfillment in a manner of speaking."

Athelstane quirks a brow towards Lucy, annoyance obviously showing on his features. The hand managing his cane raises it a bit and then thumps it back on the ground as he speaks. "Human Decency?" he says incredulously. "What a load of utter tripe. And for not desiring your 'services'? A take it then what you really desire, and are upset over not having, is acceptance of you and your ways without judgement. Well, you must not have been in that particular line of 'work' very long if you haven't grown accustomed to people's distaste for it."

Lucy waves a dismissive hand at Athelstane and says, "You have, today, not made yourself a powerful enemy, but at least, a powerful non-friend. One such as yourself would be wise not to judge a book by it's cover, so to speak. I am in no need of your judgment of me, one way or the other, but there is such a thing as common human decency, you annoying little fop." The woman's attitude has changed now, not into anger, but into distaste for the man. "And as for my services, people are grateful for them, usually, though clearly you enjoy taking it in the ass rather than laying with a woman." She turns to Desmond and says, "But I must be going, I've an appointment to make, and cannot miss it. Be well, Desmond," she says with an honest smile. Then, to the pirate, simply, "Athestane."

Despite a clear reception of the clear dispute between Lucy and Athelstane, his eyes shifting between the two as each speaks, Desmond remains silent. Though the tail end of Lucy's words seem to provoke a light added edge of thoughtfulness in the big feline. When Lucy addresses him directly before her departure, he nods his head once and rumbles, "Farewell." As the woman goes, he turns his attention back towards the human male, perhaps to finish gauging his reaction to the woman's words.

Athelstane stands impassively, maintaining the quirked brow and reaching down to check his pocket watch. Finally as the woman departs he sighs, shaking his head. "I should give up on finding civility in some people." he says thoughtfully. He grimaces slightly, seemingly still annoyed a bit. "If she is your friend, I shall not pursue satisfaction on your account."

"She is more an acquaintance," Desmond clarifies firstly. "I do not know her all that well, truth be told. Though I would give the opinion that civility is a two way street. Your own manner toward her was something of a catalyst for her own upset." Not that he has that defending sound to his point. Once more pointing out what seems, to him, obvious attributes. "But I will not tell you how to deal with her, if you would seek whatever you might seek." That said the big male rises from his settling spot slowly. Not seeming inclined yet to go anywhere. Instead extending his arms upward in a slow, smooth stretch, casually working out the slight, lethargic ache that has seeped into his muscles with flickers of tension here and there within his tall frame. A practice of moments before he relaxes entirely, arms dropping smoothly to his side as his focus returns to Athelstane.

Athelstane quirks a brow, now examining Desmond in a new calculating manner. "Good to know on the first, and utter disagreement on the second. The whore should have kept her hands to herself. If she is being over forward and flaunting herself, she should be aware that not everyone is going to be receptive. Treating me as if I've somehow transgressed 'her'... instead of her me, when I effectively just tell her to keep her hands to herself... that is ridiculous. You may of course disagree, though I do not fathom how."

Desmond and Athelstane stand near the fountain, currently in the midst of discussion. "You did not exactly approach your means of telling her with perfect civility. To expect it in return is inconsistent," he states simply. "I do not agree with such a profession either, but I tend to be more.. diplomatic about such things. People do what they must to survive. And what one does or has done does not necessarily define who they are." He will keep his attention fixed steadily on Athe as he speaks, attention paid to the man and his responses.

Athelstane makes an abrupt and rather dismissive gesture. "And you think I should have been diplomatic about her rubbing herself on me?" he says. Speaking in a mocking tone he continues "Oh, my dear... I'm afraid you are not my type. Would you mind overmuch if you didn't continue giving me your sales pitch?" Shaking his head he clearly finds the idea repulsive. "Hogwash. The idea that I am somehow rude for taking affront at her bad behavior is illogical. One /should/ take affront at bad behavior. To do otherwise is to encourage it."

Desmond cants his head slightly and notes, "I never said that you should have been diplomatic about it. Only that affront breeds affront, as fire breeds fire. No more, no less." His arms lift, casually crossed over his broad chest. "I'm not one to defend Lucy's manner. In general, I tend to refrain comment on it simply because there is no need for me to speak on it. I wish no trouble, so I make none. If you wish civility, it must be given. But one is free to act and react as they will." Indeed, throughout that he maintains that strict neutral in his deep, rolling voice. "Take no offense, for i offer none. Only observations to consider."

Athelstane nods at once towards Desmond, sighing softly. "I know you do not, or we would be having a different conversation. I am not however afraid of intensely examining an issue. In truth I did not expect her to react well to being rebuffed. However, not expecting it, a thing not being probable. These are not the same thing as a thing being incorrect. I was civil, but firm. She was uncivil." he says, shrugging a bit. "I... shall have to decide how I should react to that."

Desmond nods his head once to Athelstane. "Something I shall leave to you. My own path is simple politeness as the woman seems well meaning if.. strange at times. Though I am not sure of her motives or goals enough to truly judge as of yet," he rumbles thoughtfully. "Either way, I lose nothing in the path I walk. It seems the most balanced in such situations." His tail weaves idly behind him as he speaks, a silent show of his current relaxed mood.

Holding an open book in hand and walking slowly, carefully, down a set of the stairs behind the two people conversing. Etienne pauses about halfway down the stairs, a slight frown on his face as he looks up from the book. And down at the two people there. After a moment, he shaks his head and starts down the stairs again. Though he looks back to the book, the slight frown remains upon his features. A moment or so later, he reaches the bottom and pauses there again to look up from his book, briefly, and seems to choose a path at random before moving again.

Athelstane shifts on his feet, nodding his agreement. "You speak truly. Though, the avoidance of a conflict is not my way. I was taught rather to confront them, welcoming the challenge and the growth it engenders." he says, splaying his hands and chuckling softly. "I do however think it is still sometimes the wiser choice, context depending."

"There is something to be said for confrontation at times, but to confront all things would no doubt give one many foes in time," Desmond muses. He turns his head slightly to glance towards Etienne a few moments after his arrival to the garden. The twitch of his ear towards the man before the turn of his head perhaps suggesting the sense that did alert him. "A more judicious path is the sort I walk, as I have no desire for a great many foes. The fewer the better when it comes to a stable life," The words still towards Athelstane as he considers Etienne visually. � Athelstane laughs softly, nodding a bit. "In my Master's way there are multiple types of force, and ways of confrontating a situation. I however have yet to acquire his age and wisdom. Though I do try at times. Perhaps I shall come to be subtle in the years to come. Sometimes I manage it to confront a given problem, yet I have not developped it as a habit yet."

Etienne frowns, once again, and looks up, as though something or other is catching his attention. He flips the book closed but continues walking down the path. Toward, it so happens, the two people conversing. He offers a nod toward the feline as the head turns toward him. He continues walking, stopping only once he's come around so he can look at both him, and offers a nod to both. At finally being able to see the face behind the voice, and the latest words from Athelstane, Etienne's expression clears and a soft snort is given. "Righ', Stane, if ye manage ta find subtlety after all these years, I'll give ye me sword," says Etienne, his brogue accent just as thick as it ever has been, though a bit rustier, perhaps, in tonality than it once was.

Desmond nods his head once. "Subtlety is something that is of great use. In a manner of speaking, I was taught something of those ways as part of my training." The nod is returned by the big male, though his brows hike upward slightly as Etienne rounds to approach them and addresses the other man with an obvious level of familiarity. This brings about a silence on his part as he glances at Etienne, then back towards Athelstane to gauge his reaction to these words.

Athelstane 's hand on his cane grips it slightly more tightly, narrowed and almost wary eyes level on Etienne for a long moment before his eyes widen. His smile instant. "My the Gods have played me for their fool once again. Hells man, it has been too long, and more so for you it seems!" he says, stepping forward to embrace Etienne in a quite enthusiastic hug. "How by all Olympus did you arrive yourself here?"

A glance goes toward the feline male as that one falls silent, and then his attention is, once again, taken up by Athelstane. A smile, small though it is, appears upon Etienne's face at the recognition, and greeting, from the other man. "Eigh' years, a' leas', Stane." The embrace doesn't seem to surprise him too awful much, for he returns it with at least a little of the enthusiasm the other man displays. A moment later, Etienne steps back to look down at the shorter man. "Through one o' them blindin' flashes o' ligh' ye like ta use, me friend." His expression is a lot more open, a lot 'happier', than it was when he'd first come down off of those stairs.

Desmond finds himself amid an unexpected reunion this late evening. He and the two human males stand near the garden's fountain. And though he lingers near as the two share words, he seems disinclined to inject himself back into the talk just yet. Rather, he does much the same as he did before, his attention shifting from speaker to speaker, wearing that simple, steady neutral expression.

Athelstane laughs aloud, nodding towards Etienne. "Ah! Of all the luck. The hand of the Gods is on you my friend, I tell you truly. I am glad to see you again regardless. And if you wish, I shall take you home at once however glad I am of your company." He stands back now, settling on his cane a bit now. Becoming more reserved. "Though, if you stay, as I am sure you have already gathered, you shall see many things you would not otherwise..."

Soft footsteps bring the small Inuit woman quietly into the garden within the museum. She had been wary of entering the place, since she'd never been in here before, but... she managed to be bold enough to come inside. Following behind her is the great white spirit bear, Tornaq, his bulk towering over the small woman who he protects. Just within the area of the garden, Tornaq reaches out to lightly touch Monique on the back of her shoulder before his attention turns to the others who are present. The odd pair pause just within the garden, and Monique's dark-eyed gaze wanders the space as well, marvelling at the sight of the garden. Distracted by the sight of the garden, she hasn't quite noticed all those who are in the space. Tornaq shifts his stance and gives a rumble, reaching out to touch his small shaman's shoulder once more.

Etienne glances over to the feline once again, and then back to Athelstane. "Who's yer friend, Stane?" He asks, with another glance toward the feline male. His attention returns to Athelstane again, his expression sobering once again, though there is hope to be seen, there deep within his eyes. "Home, if ye could, would be a grea' thin', me friend. I'm worried fer Isabeau 'n me girls." At this point, he doesn't even notice the entrance of the bear and woman.

Athelstane blinks in shock, then smiles wide again. "Girls? I promise to leave them alone." he says, winking. "Of course my friend, of course. It shall bear some preparation, but it shall be done as soon as I might. Perhaps I shall visit with you a time." Turning he gestures towards Desmond. "This is Desmond, a warrior I have known for a short time, though I have come to think of him as honorable. Desmond this is Etienne, my friend of some years."

"Desmond," said feline replies in his deep, basso profundo voice, which lends a slight roll to his 'r's. "It seems fortunate that you two have come to meet each other here." It won't take him too long to note Monique's presence. Most notably picking up on the second rumble from the bear, his ears twitching slightly before he pivots slightly and glances towards the pair of them. He will lift a hand towards her, when her attention moves in the big male's direction. Greeting and inviting in one.

Tornaq moves to stand closer behind his small shaman, to make himself more of a presence, and he gives another rumble. This time, aimed to get Monique's attention, which he does. The small Inuit woman blinks a moment, then looks to the large bear who stands just behind her. She says something quietly in her native Inuit tongue, then lifts a hand to lightly touch the bear's leg next to her, her fingers ruffling the fur there. Her dark-eyed gaze moves then to look over the space again, this time finding the small knot of people, whom she recognizes two of, and only one of which has noticed her. Monique lifts a hand to offer a small wave of her own, and then both she and the great white bear start to approach, and she gives the 'stranger' a bit of a look as she comes closer, curious.

A nod is given, and a slight smile. "They were bu' five when I lef' them, me friend. And o' course, take wha'ever time ye need ta. 'tis been five years I've been here. I dinna think a wee bi' more time will harm anythin'." Etienne turns his attention back to the surroundings as a whole now, with somewhat visible effort. He nods again, to Desmond this time, and then offers a bow in the way of his people. At the rumble sound, loud enough that even Etienne doesn't miss is, he glances in that direction, and offers a nod to the woman approaching with the... bear? He blinks. And blinks again.

Athelstane reaches and places a hand on Etienne's shoulder, nodding towards the bear. "A strange creature I agree. Yet it seems tame enough. She has a way with it at least." he says softly, though he does not look on it with a precisely friendly manner. Letting his gaze come back around towards Desmond he speaks to the feline man. "Indeed. Something I had not expected." he says with a wide grin.

Desmond turns back to the two men as Monique makes her a pproach. He returns the bow given to him with a low incline of his head. Curious at the talk that continues to go between them. Though as Athelstane speaks on the approaching woman's bear, he notes, "Not so much tame as possessing a level of intelligence and awareness. Something that should be taken into account." His deep voice lowered subtly as he delivers this, perhaps to evade the hearing of the approaching pair before he turns his attention towards them. Waiting for her to near before he offers, "Greetings, Monique. Tornaq." The second given towards the bear with as much consideration as he gives most people.

The great white bear had meant the sound to be heard by those who were already gathered, and by his small shaman. A sort of warning to them that he's aware of them, and a way of securing Monique's attention. The small Inuit woman brings her hand back to her side, approaching quietly as is her way, and her dark-eyed gaze wanders the stranger even as she reaches the group of folk. There, she stops, and a small smile touches at the corners of her lips. "He would only harm those who looked to cause it," Monique says softly, her tone thoughtful in nature. Her words are accented in the way of one who learned english as her second language. Tornaq gives a softer rumble, then lowers his nose to lightly touch Monique's shoulder, remaining ever-protective over her. Looking to Athelstane, she gives a small nod, then another to Desmond to acknowledge his greeting to her, and then she gives a small nod of greeting to the man she does not know. "Good evening to you, all," she says softly, her tone thoughtful, gentle. "I would trust that all is well?" she asks, curiosity shining in her voice. She falls quiet, then, looking between the trio who have gathered here.

Etienne glances toward the hand on his shoulder, and then toward Athelstane, and nods. "Th' only thin' I see strange abou' i' is tha' i's white. I've never seen a white bear afore." He shakes his head a touch, "I'd no' expected i' either. Bu', I'm thankful none th' less." A look of surprise crosses Etienne's features at the comment on an intelligent bear. "Tha's no' somethin' ye see every day." He offers a nod to the pair, both of them, and a softly spoken, "Good eve ta ye, lady."

Athelstane tugs on one ear, nodding after a moment towards Monique and Tornaq. "Good Eve." he says softly, doffing his cap as he does so. Then again towards Etienne "The white beasts are of places where all the land is snow and ice. I've been to such a place before, where all the creatures were of such coloration." he stands a bit straiter, folding his arms over his chest as he speaks. "It was not the most pleasant of experiences, though there are worse places to be certain."

"All is well with me," Desmond replies to Monique at her question. "Only further thoughts towards the subject we did delve deeper into at our last meeting. Thinking of the proper words for the offer. The right place." A deliberate vagueness in his choice of words. "Perhaps we might speak on this later, if I have not yet made the offer to her." For the moment giving focus to her as Athelstane addresses Etienne's question.

The small Inuit woman tilts her head slightly to one side as her gaze turns to the stranger once more, her dark eyes showing a touch of curiosity to them. "White is not so strange a colour, where we are from," Monique says softly, her tone thoughtful and holding a bit of amusement to it. White is the dominating colour in her home, after all. "Tornaq is what he is, nothing more, and nothing less," she says softly, a thread of a serious tone in her voice. Yet with that statement is the corollary that a person would need to know just what Tornaq is in order to know that he is just what he is expected to be. Monique's attention turns to Athelstane as he speaks and makes that mention of having been in a place like her homeland, and she raises one of her eyebrows slightly. "Not all are of such colour, but... many are," she says softly, a smile touching at the corners of her lips. "Many people who are not of the clans of my people find it to be a very cold and harsh place to be," she adds, inclining her head slightly towards him. Her attention turns, then, towards Desmond, listening attentively to him, and then she gives a small nod. "I remember, yes. We can speak later of it, as you wish," she says softly, a smile turning at the corners of her lips.

Etienne blinks again, and looks sharply at Athelstane, quite as though he doesn't believe the words. "Snow 'n ice? Surely ye jes', Stane. All th' land o' snow 'n ice?" Obviously, from his tone and expression, Etienne has never heard of such a thing. He shakes his head and glances at Monique again. Then briefly to Athelstane, "I mus' be off, my friend. Good ta see ye again. I'll be back in th' city on th' morrow." He nods to Desmond, and then to Monique and Tornaq, and then turns and walks back toward the stairs. Moving fairly quickly towards the stairs and on up them.

Athelstane chuckles softly, nodding towards Monique with a small amusement in his features. "I don't think I was in your homeland. The place I visited was a whole world of like climate. And the beasts had little to feed upon, and I seemed a likely candidate." he says. Then to Etienne as he makes ready to go. "Farewell. I shall be preparing for our journey, have no fears." he says, bowing deeply to the other man even as he walks away.

"Farewell," Desmond offers towards Etienne as he departs, his attention shifting toward Athelstane afterward. "You have been to a world that is all snow?" HIs expression becomes curious.. thoughtful. "By what means did you travel to this other world?" Arrowing in on that point with some alacrity. An ear remains swiveled towards the man as he looks to Monique and dips his head slightly at her acceptance of his suggestion. "Good. I would appreciate you thoughts on the matter, if only to contrast them with my own urges."

Monique tilts her head slightly to one side, and then she gives a small nod. "My homeland is to the North, and very few that I know from here would venture there," she says softly, her tone thoughtful. "In the North, sometimes, food is scarce, but my people survive," she adds, speaking softly. Her attention turns to Etienne, and she studies him with a measure of concern, hoping that she didn't say anything that would have made him leave, and she gives a small nod. "Farewell, and may peace guard you," she says softly to him. Her attention follows Etienne for a moment, yet then she brings it back to Desmond, as he speaks. "Gladly, I will share my thoughts," she says warmly, her dark eyes reflecting a warmth within them as well. She falls a little quiet, though, awaiting Athelstane's answer to Desmond's question.

Athelstane tugs on one ear, shifting his weight on his feet as he considers his response. "Indeed. I frequently make such journeys. That is how I arrived here in fact. I, ah, travel via my own arts however." he says, then pauses. "I believe the art is called 'Shifting' in the parlance of this place." He does not seem overly abashed in his manner. "I am from a place where such arts are considerably more rare, though here... I am surprised to find them actually known in society." Desmond nods his head slightly. "I did sense you were one who wielded magic," the big male rumbles. "But that you can move about the words.. this I did not know. I believe I know someone who would like to speak with you on matters such as this. Another who is far from his home, much as your friend is. If you do not mind it, I will give your description to him, that he might recognize you. And perhaps look to set up a more direct meeting." In this moment he seems to focus entirely on this topic.

Athelstane takes a deep breath, scratching his chin and seeming hesitant. "I will gladly speak with them, if you are present to broker between us. I do however have reservations about the casual use of my art." he says, very earnestly. "I will promise nothing more, until I have a feel for your friend and what they desire me to do. And they should know that whatever I might agree to do, it would likely not be free unless I felt some compelling reason to assist them. Which is unlikely."

The small Inuit woman gives Athelstane a look of puzzlement when he mentions how he travels, and she lightly shakes her head, not understanding. "I do not understand, this... shifting?" she asks softly, testing the word. She's never heard the word before, or used it, so she doesn't have any sort of meaning to fit to it. Yet even though she doesn't understand, her attention does wander from Athelstane to Desmond when he speaks, listening attentively to what's said. Yet it doesn't really answer her curiosity, and rather increases it, since she has a certain suspicion of who Desmond might be referring to. Yet since she's not sure, she doesn't mention it, though a part of that likely shows in her expression. She's mostly quiet for the moment, puzzled and a bit confused, trying to understand.

"I ask for nothing more than an agreement to meet, which you have given," Desmond replies, not seeming daunted by what the man as to say. "In truth, I know not what services he might desire, if any and when. Only that I believe he should know of you and your abilities, in the event that he would desire to partake of them for what mutual agreement the two of you might reach." Des pauses, quiet for a moment as he considers briefly before looking to Monique. "I believe the time has come for me to retire. I hope your evening goes well, both of you." His eyes shifting to the great bear as he is so included. His attention returns then to Athelstane. "So too, enjoy your evening. If there is need of a direct meeting, I shall seek to contact you."

Athelstane doffs his hat towards Desmond as he makes ready to leave. "And you Sir, and you. I look forward to further discourse." Turning back towards Monique, he smiles a bit, seeming contemplative with his features. "To put it in a very simplistic manner, part of the art I practice involves the opening of portals. Between locations, between worlds, between... realities. There is much to see, much to learn throughout such travelling. So... that is hardly the sum of it, but, that is confusing element I believe."

Monique tilts her head slightly to one side as she watches Desmond for a lingering moment, and then she gives a small nod. "May peace guard you, Desmond. We will speak another time, of what needs be discussed," she says softly, her tone thoughtful in nature. She's not going to mention the topic directly, but rather keep things as subtle as he had in that initial mentioning. "Enjoy your evening," she adds, giving him a warm smile. Yet her attention turns then to Athelstane as he tries to explain shifting, only the explanation almost confuses her more, if that's possible. "Portals?" she inquires, her brow furrowing. Puzzled, still, and confused, but trying hard to understand. She just needs words that she's more familiar with.

Desmond nods his head once towards Athelstane, then looks to Monique one last time before he takes his leave. His ears swiveling. Listening briefly to the words that the man gives on how he travels. Curious indeed, though more so to that mystery someone. He will stride his way out with unhurried purpose.Tags:caliopa, desmond, ethelstane, etienne, lucy, monique