[Indigo]

Ah, rain. So sad, and yet so exhilarating. So beautiful. So...wet.

A small, unpainted wooden rowboat followed the current of a wide river bound on either side by a mound of mud, decorated with little tufts of dripping grass. Whoever was in it seemed to have forgotten the oars, or at least, didn't care enough to use them. They also presumably didn't mind getting wet, because there was nothing, no umbrella or other shield, to keep them dry. The river--it hardly counted as being such, really, just a part of the swamp walled off from the rest by sheer coincidence--was silent, and the occupant of the boat was as well. The only sound was the rain as it pattered against the boat and splashed into the water.

A head lifted above the side and, though it had no mouth that anyone watching would have been able to see, yawned. The headphones that had probably clamped its ears together at some point now hung loosely around its neck. It looked around, as if ascertaining that there were no enemies nearby, and sat up, revealing itself to be an Emowockee.

Echo-Echo dangled a paw over the edge of her boat and looked around again, this time more out of interest. Well, she'd expected the borrowed boat to take her somewhere interesting, although this river thing wasn't quite what she'd been anticipating. There seemed to be no way back to the rest of the swamp in either direction--how long had she been asleep?

Ah, well. No matter. If she couldn't find her way back home, she could always tie up her boat and draw in a hollow tree to keep her paper dry. Someone would eventually come looking for her. She pushed the headphones up until they pressed her ears together again and turned them on.

{1}

[SpringsSong]

Whilst the Emowockee was down below on her boat, there was the shadow of another above the Swamps; one with an impressive fourteen-foot wingspan.  The Sygriff's wings were stretched out to their fullest, despite the rain that would ruin her feathers for the next few hours.

She didn't care.  She loved the rain.

Maybe it was influenced by the fact that she was a plant elemental, but Armina felt like rain was one of the greatest weather types there was.  It was so soothing and envigorating and... calming at the same time, much like the music she loved to play.  As she continued to fly, she quietly pondered what had been developing in her life recently.  N'car'en was trying to get closer to Lor'isa, Naraka and A'enya'ri just plain hated her, L'irksel was coming into her own powers, and Ra'car...

Suddenly, Armina glanced down and noticed the boat floating down the "river".  Curious, she dropped down several feet to where she could clearly see the inhabitant of the boat; an Emowockee.  She did not speak a word; the 'Wockee would doubtless look up to see what shadow was above her once she'd seen it was not that of a cloud...

[1.1]

[Indigo]

Echo-Echo flicked at the water with her tail absently. Was it just her, or did it seem to be slightly darker now? And only in certain places, as well. How odd. Perhaps she'd understand it better if she tried drawing it. Her ears twitched within their confining headphones as she looked up at the rain tumbling down toward her every second, then to either side. Large, moss-covered trees were showing up now, causing her to wonder vaguely where, exactly, she was.

Rummaging in the bottom of the boat, she came across a trapdoor. Aha. She had known there was something odd about this boat when she'd bought it from that trader in the Slums. Of course, one did well to be suspicious of anything bought in the Slums. Now, hoping it wasn't some kind of poisonous snake--

Ah, yes. The heavy trapdoor had been hiding a small compartment packed with apples, a coil of rope, and an umbrella. She supposed the apples were for if she got lost and was hungry. Well, she was lost, but not particularly hungry at the moment, nor concerned much about her being lost. After a moment, she pulled out the green umbrella, opened it, wrapped her tail around it, and closed the trapdoor.

Now, for her drawing. She always wore a messenger bag filled with blank notepads and drawing implements, with the colored pencils visible down the side. She pulled out a large pad of paper and began sketching the shape of the darkness around the boat from above, a likeness that popped out of the page. Finally, finishing, she examined the outline. It looked rather like...

The umbrella whipped back and was instantly dropped as she looked up to see the Sygriff above. She began putting away her art supplies as she pulled the headphones down to her neck and turned them off, calling upward, "Hello up there! Who are you?" She spoke slowly, a side effect of her music, though her speech was rather slow in any case.

{2}

[SpringsSong]

A voice?  Armina looked down as she heard the voice, slow and lyrical like the music she so adored.  She soon caught sight of the Emowockee down below her.  A small smile appeared on her beak as she swooped down slightly, trying her best not to throw too many twirls or flips; that was something Ra'car had told her about.

I know you've been invited to the tournament of the Sky-Dancers, but you need to stop practicing around the civilians, dearest.  You'll ruin the routine for them, you know; and that is... she knew what the last part of the sentence was; unacceptable, especially for the Rose-Angel...

She shook her head as she looked down at the Emowockee again.  She thought for a few moments, trying her best not to say too much too soon.  After she broke her thought train, she looked back at the Emowockee.

"I am called Armina," she said.  "And who might you be?"

[1.2]

[Indigo]

Ah, good. A talker. Not that Echo-Echo didn't expect that level of intelligence from a Sygriff, or anyone, really, but she'd known more than a few mutes, and many who could only speak their own language. For one of them, she'd need Alison as an interpreter, and that was a luxury she didn't have, as the Kitrell was still in the process of moving in. Anyway, it was always harder to talk through an interpreter.

"I am Echo-Echo, or at least, that is who I think I am," she responded, once again very slowly. Perhaps that Midnight Ensemble's philosophy was beginning to rub off on her, distort her perception of things. And if the world really was only a person's perception, what did it mean if your perception was uncertain? She sighed and let her tail flop over the side of the boat, into the water. Now was not the time to think of such things.

She looked with curiousity back at the Sygriff--Armina. "I see that you don't mind the rain," she stated, trying to make conversation. "Doesn't it make flying difficult?" The only other Sygriff in her sphere of experience was mean-spirited, hated to be asked questions, and wouldn't fly if there was any danger of her wings getting wet, though she often refused to fly anyway. Vile, temperamental creature, or so most of the household seemed to think, and many disliked or feared Sygriffs because of the experience with her.

Strange, really, for them to stereotype. Most of them were very different from the rest of the members of their species, and as such should judge the individual rather than the whole, as Echo-Echo did. Speaking of which, perhaps she would get to know this particular individual better if there weren't the constant movement of the boat to deal with. "Would you like to land? There's plenty of space here." Her voice was beginning to speed up slightly, although it wouldn't get any faster no matter how long she went without music.

{3}

[SpringsSong]

"It has never hindered my flying before," Armina said, "and I do not much mind being wet.  It could be because I was always raised in humid environments before coming here to live with my human companion, but I do not mind it in the least." Armina knew that there were some Sygriffs that would hate being wet, but she felt like it was the most envigorating thing in the world.

"So... Echo-Echo," she said as she landed in the boat as lightly as she tried her best not to cause it to rock the boat any.  She had never been in a boat like this one before; larger ones, yes, but not a little row boat.  She noticed the headphones about Echo-Echo's neck, curious.

"What... what kind of music do you listen to?" she asked, pointing at the headphones.

[1.3]

[Aaand the Fire's muse has been stolen by her Pantheon characters. Dx]

[Indigo]

Echo-Echo reached up and fiddled with her headphones, idly spinning them around her neck. "Ah. My music. It tends to...bother people," she explained. "I'm not really certain why. I have a fondness for slow, slightly sad-sounding classical pieces, which leads many of those I meet to the conclusion that I am depressed. A few have even suggested therapy." She laughed, a low, musical sound.

Looking over the side of the boat, she noticed the interesting rippling patterns formed by drops of rain splashing into the flowing water, as well as the way the water divided around rocks. Perhaps she could capture those interesting shapes. "Excuse me. I hope you don't mind this; I need to keep my paper dry." She dug around behind her until she found the umbrella, then held it over the drawing pad she'd already pulled out.

She quickly began to sketch outlines of the ripples, then more defined shapes, though her lines still flowed as freely as the water itself. Then, finding a stormy sort of blue pencil, she began filling it in, careful to properly depict the patterns of shadow and light caught by her practiced eye. Soon, what seemed almost to be the living image of the river's flow had taken shape on the page.

She sat back, satisfied, and lowered the umbrella as much as she dared. No drops had yet touched her work, and it didn't seem necessary to take extra precautions. Now, for basic politeness, so much more useful than her absorption in drawing. Looking back at Armina, she inquired, "And you? What type of music do you prefer?"

{4}

[SpringsSong]

Armina shook her head as she looked around slightly, observing the area around her.  She turned her attention back to Echo-Echo after a moment, listening as she talked about her music.  How could anyone think that, just because one enjoyed listening to sad, slow music that one was depressed?  Maybe it went hand in hand with the fact that Echo-Echo was an Emowockee?  She shook her head as she quickly dismissed the initial thought; she was not one to stereotype others.  When she pulled out the umbrella, she shook her head as if to say it was perfectly okay.

"A few of my friends from school are visual artists.  They would doubtless be doing the exact same thing as you if they were out here drawing in the rain.  It's no big deal to me," she said, shaking her head slightly, making sure to avoid splattering Echo-Echo's paper.  She looked to the river and observed the ripples in it herself; that was one of the things she had always loved about water, how it made everything look so different, and yet... so beautiful at the same time.

"What music to I prefer?" she asked, thinking for a few moments.  "Well... I'm one of those that finds a happy blend in slow, lyrical orchestral music and in smooth jazz music.  Not the rowdy stuff, mind you--the smooth jazz that you'd expect to hear in a club long after everyone's supposed to be gone.  Maybe that's just because I play both styles, but..."

Her voice trailed off here.  She still played jazz, but not as often as before, and orchestra was quickly becoming a foreign realm...

[1.4]

[Indigo]

Echo-Echo tapped her pencil against her mask, giving off a thoughtful air. Jazz, jazz...had she ever heard it before? She wasn't exactly a common sight at clubs, and she'd never thought to ask to borrow anyone else's music. Who knew? They might not have been willing to give it to her anyway. She could tell they were afraid of her by the way they looked at her.

Perhaps considering the whole of Armina's response was necessary, she reflected. "School? What school do you go to, then?" She was about to say she might know someone at wherever it was, but decided against it. For one thing, it was highly unlikely she knew anyone going to any specific school, since the students at home were very vague about the specifics of their educations. And for another, it would be sort of like those people who hear that you live in a specific region and say, "Oh, hey, I have a friend who lives there! Maybe you know him/her/it!" Doubtless it was a large school, and no one could possibly know everyone there.

As for the music... "I'm sorry to say I don't believe I've ever heard your particular type of music," she said. "But do you play anywhere specific? I'm sure you're good..." All right, her repertoire of conversational topics was exhausted.

{5}
(Failpost. DX)

[SpringsSong]

Armina shrugged after a few moments, knowing that everyone had his or her favorite styles of music.  However, after another few moments, she cleared her throat and began to speak again, although she was fiddling around with the armband she was wearing.

"I go to the Aldrect School of the Arts.  It's... a little out of the way for most, but I could think of other educational institutions that are more out of the way than that--that LightHaven place, for example--it was a medical college..." she said, drifting off into deep thinking for a few moments.  Finally, she spoke once more.

"I play... mostly in Aldrect, but generally wherever I can get gigs that are decent in the pay.  Most of them hire me for classical, but there are a few that go for the jazz side." Armina said, smiling slightly.

[2.0]