Completed Wandering

[Cowlquape]

The breeze blew in off the lake and tousled with Cowlquape's stray hairs. Cowlquape loved the smell of the lake in the air, and loved how it cooled the drafts as they crossed near it.

He decided to take a stroll around the central district while the day was nice and sunny. He tapped his cane on the board walk way near the main office buildings as he casually drifted along. Was he looking to promote his business? Perhaps, if the opportunity arose. He wasn't one to prance about on the streets with an advertisement, however. Business cards, maybe. Hand-written little pieces of thick parchment with his name and address, soaked in excess cooking fat and then dried in the sun.

Was he really just out for a stroll? Well, yes. Cowlquape has the ability to perceive minute details and synthesize them into a workable picture. It was both his hobby - and his job. A casual stroll through a city turned into sort of a puzzle for him, as the sights and sounds and smells swirled through his brain until multiple conclusions could be formed.

As it so happened, a man ran past him from behind. He was a young man, likely in his early twenties, with tan skin and short black hair. His trousers were pulled up by suspensions and his shirt was old and billowy. Cowlquape only saw him for a split second, but the stench of sweat was easily caught, as well as the trails it marked on the back of his neck. His mouth was open as he ran, which Cowlquape knew because of the faint breaths he heard as the man passed by him. They weren't only the gasps of a man who had been running - though he likely was tired - but deep and controlled gasps of someone who might have been late for something, or was fearing being too late. His footsteps were directed and pointed unlike someone who was running wildly, and he dodged around people as he needed but did not change his course. His stride was also very wide, indicating he needed to be somewhere quickly. But what tipped Cowlquape off was the accessory he carried wound over his shoulder; a thick cord of rope with a curious float attached to one end. The float was a long bar with the rope secured in a gap in the center, and what seemed to be a wooden pole running along its center length. Cowlquape kept his eyes on the man as he made his way, carefully staying near the edge of the boardwalk the whole time.

"Curious," Cowlquape muttered. He deduced, from what he'd just seen, that a friend or acquaintance of this man had just fallen into the water off of the boardwalk. Or maybe had capsized his Ravosala, which would have been even more humorous. The man was now likely hurrying to his location so that he could toss that improvised life-preserver out to the poor klutz and pull him back to the boardwalk.

Cowlquape decided to keep on the same course as he was going, and would likely see the man and what he was doing if they were on this same boardwalk. From his running trajectory, they probably were.

In the meantime, Cowlquape enjoyed the breeze blowing in from the North, and the towering buildings around him. Ahhh, the Central district... such beautiful architecture, he thought to himself.

[Cowlquape]

A short building on the opposite side of the canal interested Cowlquape. Freshly painted. Was it a new building, or just a new coat of paint to preen up a previous building? The slight etching of where grim used to be, now painted over, indicated that it was indeed an older building with a fresh look. Maybe a business replacing another business, or a vacant lot finally closing a deal. The sight of the sun illuminating half of the deep mahogany color of the structure with a sturdy shadow below it reminded Cowlquape that he was in need of an office soon. Not that he minded working from home; it just wasn't very professional.

Up ahead was a medium-sized space where the buildings encircled an open plaza, the center of which contained a planter with a large, flowering pink bush, which looked as if a giant had plopped it down atop the grassy knoll it now rested on. Moths with seemingly luminescent wings drifted lazily around the bush, and four benches encircle it in a cross shape. Between each bench was a lamp post, four in all, which currently were not housing a flame. A protective metal pan sat beneath the candle center of each lamp post. The entire area was shaded from the dazzling sun by the three story buildings that towered in it's company, and in front of the buildings sat more square planters with multiple other interesting plants, with an old gardener tending to them.

Cowlquape approached the bush and surveyed its size. How in the world did they have such a large bush here in comparison to the amount of dirt below it? Certainly the roots were longer than what seemed to be allowed. He knew the dirt couldn't just be floating there on its own. He bent down on his bad leg, carefully bracing himself with his cane while removing his top hat, and tugged at the grass. He poked at the dirt a little, and even placed his hand on it to see if he could push it down. It didn't budge - it obviously wasn't floating.

He examined the planter edge where the dirt fit flush with the board. He noticed that the dirt seemed to be softer at the edges, as if dirt below it had fallen down into some chasm. He figured it's a possibility that the planter was actually built deeper into the lake below than how it appeared on the top.

"Admiring my garden?" A wheezing voice asked behind him.

Cowlquape didn't turn around immediately. The man who spoke to him, Cowlquape guessed, was the old gardener he had seen tending the other planters when he approached. The mans footsteps were very soft but shuffling, and he could hear the rustle of the gardening gloves on his hands. The voice also matched his face, which looked sort of folded up in the center, and wrinkly around the nose. From what Cowlquape remembered, he was wearing a gray beret with a short bill in the front along with brown overalls with rags, tools, and plant seed sticking out of them.

"I always respect the work of an exceptional gardener," Cowlquape said, replacing the hat on his head as he stood, using the cane for support. He turned around and smiled at the old man, who did turn out to be the gardener he had deduced.

"My, you're much to young for a cane to stand with." The gardener told him, eyeing the black, slender cane in Cowlquape's left hand.

"Circumstances blessed me with the opportunity to carry my father's cane with me everywhere I go." Cowlquape answered, highlighting the bright side of having an old, malicious arrow wound in his leg. "But you're absolutely right, I'm much to young for this cane." He chuckled.

The gardener chuckled with him. "You know," he said, walking to the bush planter. "I've been watching over the planters in this area of Ravok for at least twenty years. In all that time; this plaza has got to be my favorite."

Cowlquape nodded. he could absolutely see why, it was an admirable location.

"I think the plants know it, too," the gardener said. "They seem brighter here, like they've got some sort of inner light. The other planters just don't match up." The gardener turned to Cowlquape, smiled, and stuck out his hand. "Name's Adiras."

'Cowlquape," Cowlquape answered, shaking the man's gloved hand and tipping his hat. "If I may ask, how does the bush grow here?"

"Ah," The gardener said with a grin, glancing towards the bush. "Many don't know how it works. When the area was built,they built a dip right in the center here with wood and sealing wood glue. I suppose it was to hold tools or something of that sort. But one day a visionary came through and decided to dump a couple barrels of rich dirt from the inland surrounding Ravok and toss in it some native grass seed. As it goes, he went to the docks and purchased the first exotic seed from a merchant - not caring what it was - and threw in into the pile."

"Ah, so, this bush here is not native? I hadn't noticed any other plants with this broad and pointed leaf shape. The others seem to have thinner leaves." Cowlquape discussed.

"You're absolutely right young lad." The gardener told him. "Ravok plants have been brought from the shore. This one - well, who knows where it's from. I don't quite know what it is, myself. What I do know is that it loves the shade these buildings provide."

Cowlquape approached the bush. "Do you mind?" he asked, reaching his hand out for a leaf.

"No by all means, be my guest."

Cowlquape plucked a leaf off and placed it in a small journal he procured from his pocket. 'I'm a curious man by nature," He informed the gardener, "It might suit me to pass my time by studying the leaf and discovering what foreign plant it matches up to."

"My, you are a curious one, aren't you. It's even possible you'll never learn that plant's identity - hope that doesn't bother you?"

"To be honest Mr. Adiras," Cowlquape adressed with a smile, "I had no choice but to take a leaf for myself once I learned it was a mystery."

[Cowlquape]

"Well if you learn anything, you'll let me know," the gardener told him. "I'll plant these in mine own garden, and probably elsewhere around Ravok. You know, if I actually do get my hands on some. Thus far the bush hasn't produced seed."

Cowlquape nodded. He figured if he found out anything, he'd stop by in this area again.

"Well I best get going. I've planters to water. Cowlquape, 'twas a pleasure meeting you."

"As it was you, Mr. Adiras. Here, take my card." Cowlquape said, handing him one of his pieces.

The gardener, upon taking the card, tipped it to Cowlquape and headed out of the plaza.

Cowlquape shuffled over to the bench facing the main drag and plopped himself down on it, massaging his leg with pangs from the past. He placed his cane down next to him, leaning against his right leg - never farther than hand's reach.

Bit long after taking a seat, two men shuffled by going down the main drag. One was dripping with water, wrapped in a rough towel - and the other was the man he'd seen earlier, running down the walkway with his improvised floatation device.

This ended that mystery. Cowlquape was just glad everyone was safe. The water-logged one was lucky he had an acquaintance who was willing to help him - my everyone managed such luck. An unaccompanied individual would have found himself resting in a watery grave before long. The thought made Cowlquape wonder about the number of dead bodies and skeletons littering the bottom of the lake, now feeding the fish and providing calcite for freshwater reefs. On top of that, how many of them were unsuspecting victims who fell prey to the tantalizing edge of the Ravokian boardwalks?

Morbid. Cowlquape continued to enjoy his time in the enclosed exterior, allowing himself to observe all the passerby who crossed through the main drag and occasionally into the little plaza. Since there was no sign denoting this location, Cowlquape decided to name it himself - Pink Garden, named after the illustrious bush. He figured from now on, when he asked to meet his clients in public, he would ask them to meet him here. Until he got an actual office, of course.

He gave it another thirty minutes of observing and memorizing citizens and slaves, a hobby of his and sometimes necessary for his line of work, before standing with his cane and trotting off back towards the location of his apartment.