PM to join Visions of the World (Ethan)

[Leda]

29th Day of Spring 513 Late Morning The Great Bazaar Second day in the bazaar, sitting by her stall, and the nerves of the first day's trading had faded. Leda was no longer filled with the desperate need for a customer as she had the day before, since she'd made quite a few coin and, as much as it might have been because of the novelty of her stall - a fortune telling one - she judged it to have been a small success. Finishing with a very happy client, for whom she had predicted everything one might wish to have predicted in one's future - love, wealth and success... the cards indicating that it would probably come in the form of an advantageous marriage to a rich woman - and she now stood outside the little turquoise tent in which she worked, trying to avoid yawning. She had hardly slept that night, or indeed that week. Light sleep was her constant companion, as it had been in the last year since the shipwreck. Leda really could not comprehend why, for she wasn't exactly haunted by nightmares of that fateful day. The past was the past, and she was of a naturally very optimistic nature, always trying to see the best in every situation and every person. Maybe she needed to go to the apothecary and buy some powder, or drink, to make her sleep. It seemed a good idea except for when she thought about all the horror stories she had heard about the negative effects that taking to much had, or even what was considered the correct amount. An acquaintance had told her of countless women who had consumed the amount prescribed by the Doctor and found dead the next day... even of orphanages in other cities where the children were given some to keep them quiet and never woke up. After close to ten minutes without a customer, she grew bored and started singing a little song to herself. Next time, she'd have to bring a book It was a sad little song, one written for her by her elder sister, but she was having trouble remembering the next few verses.

[Ethan Terran]

This was the first time Ethan had ever gone to the Bazaar, without is Father at least, and there was only one word that aptly described it for the man. Bewildering. Bodies pressed against him, voices raised and shouted wares and prices, all seeming to claim the better deal and yet the price went up and up. Everywhere Ethan turned he found a new voice, a new touch, and if it were not for his hand upon the wall he would have surely lost himself in the chaos. I should not be here. he thought, I should turn back now while I can still find my bearings. That was the sensible thing to do, and in fact Ethan began to turn at that moment, though he was quickly halted. There came a voice that was so different from the rest that filled the Bazaar. Many might find it a wonder that someone could pick out a single voice in the mass of noise, yet for Ethan it was as simple to separate different sounds as it was for most to separate one color from the next. Though even for a blind man when the senses were assaulted at such a level it was quite the challenge. Cocking his head, Ethan caught the notes of a song, soft or rather muffled by the activity, yet still he could hear it. It stood out like a beacon in the night, a singular point in the chaos on which Ethan could focus. So, abandoning the wall Ethan pushed instead into the crowd, using the branch that served as his cane to guide his way through the bodies. Shoved and pushed, Ethan finally made it to the source, to the light that had called to him in the darkness. Finding purchace on the wall close to the stall, Ethan kept one hand on the stones while moving toward the voice, the branch in his hand swaying back and forth to test the path for obstructions. He smiled, eyes closed as he drew close enough to be noticed, or at lest he hoped he was close enough. At least I have not stumbled over the table. Nodding slowly he parted his own lips, letting notes flow over his tongue and pass toward the woman who had guided his way, a form of payment for her aid in bringing him here. "I hear tale of moon lit skies, where stars lie scattered from East to West. I hear tale of cold winter nights, where life sleeps a healing rest. I hear tale of Goddesses, who walk among the fields of man. And I hear tales most wondrous, from the people of the sands. So many tales to hear, so many stories too. And yet there shall be always time, to tell a tale to you." Ethan smiled and nodded, eyes closed, to what he hoped was the source of the voice, "And I would gladly share tales with a voice as lovely as yours."

[Leda]

Leda could not remember the rest of the words, and was about to start a different song when she was suddenly stopped in her tracks by the sound of a voice, a man singing, and she turned around, with a smile. She moved slightly closer and it took her a moment to realise he was blind. He would, therefore not be able to see her smile of appreciation. "I am sure you have many tales to tell." She paused and drew closer. She could not help but be curious. To her mind, a blind singer was a very romantic notion. Evocative of the heroes of the tales which she used to tell her sisters and the other Svefra children to entertain them, as a child - Like the one about the Blind Fiddler and the clever songbird who, together, climbed a mountain to rescue a beautiful witch. "You sing very well. There is so much emotion in the way you express it. It's wonderful to hear." She observed the man unabashedly, as she would have done with any person who crossed her way, and for once it seemed that the object of her close analysis would not be uncomfortable with it. Leda wanted to know more of the man, and a sudden idea came to her. There was nobody around who looked interested in paying for her services... the man didn't look like he could, but she was intrigued enough about him to offer to tell his fortune without the prospect of payment. "I tell fortunes. I could tell yours if you have the time... read your palm." She paused with a light smile, "Then you could tell me a tale in payment."

[Ethan Terran]

Ethan smiled at the kind words, so few these days it seemed to him, "You flatter me, and though my meager skills do not deserve it, I thank you truly." Using the stick, Ethan approached closer to the tent, checking the path ahead for obstructs so that he could be closer to the woman who spoke so kindly to him, "I find that, with song and music, it is not the words that strike a man first, but the heart behind it all. I enjoy a song that can call true emotion from myself and those near me, just as that song you sang so beautifully before must surely do for you." The man did not mind the looks, or the stares. In fact Ethan could be said to be none the wiser of what was happening. He was far to used to condemning or pitying words and eyes that looked judgement upon his back, and this woman's gaze, which was filled with neither negativity or sorrow, did not weigh heavily upon his mind and soul. The thought of having his palm read was a novel one, for he could not say what sort of story they might tell. However, never one to turn down such a gracious invite, Ethan extended his hand, palm up, slightly to the left of Leda, "I could never refuse an offer from a voice such as yours, though you may have to guide me." He opened his eyes, gazing searching to the side, and winked, "A tale for a tale then my lady. Lead me where you wish."

[Leda]

"Usually, yes, but in that case, I was trying to remember the tune and the lyrics so the emotional attachment was not as present as it might have been." she said with a smile, not willing to lie, "It's beautiful, the way you present it." She wished she was less cynical about things like that. He held out his hand and she took it, about to look at it but then deciding that there was too much noise and started leading him towards the turquoise tent. "If we go into my tent, it will be quieter and I can pay more attention." His hand was soft - not like the hands of most of the people in Syliras. Rough, brown and broad. Often with callouses and hardened by constant manual labour. Earth Hands. His were more like the hands of an intellectual. Fire Hands. She led him to one of the chairs and sat down in the other, closing the entrance into the tent behind her. Then she turned to his palm, taking it between her two hands, then shifting her left slightly in order to be able to trace the lines with the fingers of her right. "You have gridding and chaining on your heart line. It's the sign of a creative soul." She traced her finger along it, "It's quite an interesting heart line actually. Typically a gridded, or chained, line denotes someone with the emotional strength to attain their ambitions, or use their emotions to draw strength. The line also tends to highlight romantic perspectives and intimate relationships and a chained or gridded heart line is said to point to easy flirtation, and one which can be prone to falling in love easily. However, though you have the chained heart line of an artist, this one is a little unusual. Here, here and here..." she gently touched different parts of the heart line, "You have had to have a lot of courage, now and in the past. You have suffered from loss, of an emotional nature. You'll need more courage too. You are ambitious and have dreams of defying society's prejudice, but it will take all your courage and honour to rise to the place you seek." She paused and smiled lightly. "You can ask questions at any time if you like."

[Ethan Terran]

Ethan allowed himself to be lead willingly into the tent, a bit relieved to be away from the noise the Bazaar brought with it. Sitting in the chair Ethan placed the branch he used as a cane beside him, and then he gave himself up to the Fortuneteller to read his fortune, from his palm apparently. Ethan had never quite believed in this sort of thing, never wanting to place much stock in his destiny being decided for him. None the less, he did not wish to turn down an offer that had come from someone apparently so kind. Her hands were smaller than his, he noted, and were soft as silk as well. Her touch was only slight, like the wind that passed by his cheek, and cool to the touch. In a way it was soothing, almost relaxing to have his hands caressed in such a way. Normally people shied away from all contact with Ethan, for one reason or another, so this was a welcome change from the norm. As for the fortune itself, Ethan could not help smile, "Is it true that you can read all this from a person's palm? I wonder if that is what my palm says, or if I have shown in my actions my true 'romantic perspectives' and flirtatious nature." he laughed. Though he also wondered if what she said was true. Ethan would never have considered himself flirtatious in the least, but then it is not so simple to know the heart, even one's own heart. "Forgive me, I do not mean to seem like a skeptic. I am simply not used to this sort of thing. Where did you learn to read palms?"