A Day-Glo streak zipped past the gates of the formerly abandoned house. Had she not noticed the faint strumming of a guitar – okay, or, well, the big horse in the yard was a dead give-away, too – she might have kept going. But the faint strumming of chords as Mars undoubtedly either tuned up, played some riff, or perhaps his fingers had just accidentally brushed the strings, stopped the small woman in her tracks. She hadn’t known that anyone lived here in particular, and hadn’t been sprinting on by because she was late for a date, although she did know a few of the Russos. Orin had never visited the Russo home, and didn’t realize the house next door was Rurik’s dwelling, though had she stopped and paid attention, she probably would have figured it out. Still, ‘the obvious’ was not always obvious to Orin.

By the time she skidded to a stop she was at the edge of the yard. Had she been in her quadruped form, she probably could have jerked herself to a stop much easier, but it was always much more difficult to brake when you were sprinting on two legs. She didn’t want to topple over. Spinning on her toes, her pink dreadlocks bounced on her shoulders as she marched back to the gate, leaned over, and peered through the opening so only her head, and a few stray, bright locks, poked through. Her honey-colored eyes narrowed, then widened as she stared at the man perched on a precarious chair near the house. She never met this man before, she certainly would have remembered him if she had. He had a signature style of dress and if that wasn’t enough, a very unique fur pattern. She liked it. . . she was a little jealous of it. She had no fur pattern at all, being stark white all over, and had to resort to dyes to get any variety of color in her fur at all.

Well, anyway, if he was here in Cour des Miracles parked right in the middle of Lunenburg, he couldn’t possibly be a threat, right? Logic undeniable, Orin squeezed through the gate without pushing it any further open than she had to, which was a simple feat for her petite form, and padded forward on barely pattering feet. She didn’t intend to sneak up on the man, but she was often naturally quiet. Anyway, he had probably seen her, but Orin hadn’t noticed him peek up from his preoccupation yet. She assumed he noticed her bright form enter the yard and make a wide birth around the grazing equine. Her only experience with horses was with stabled ones well cared for, she knew nothing of how to act around them when they weren’t game (and to be honest, Orin had never hunted one, either, they were far too bulky), so she gave this one a big of cautious space. Though, once given the chance to ‘meet’ the animal officially, she would have no qualms about being friendly with the horse.

“Hey!” she said with a hearty sprinkling of cheer once she was close enough to talk without having to call out. Her eyes were still round, and her ears were cupped towards Mars, listening for the next move on the guitar. She knew about musical instruments, but had never heard one that wasn’t being smashed over someone’s head before. Her mouth hung open a bit. “What is that?” She inched closer, arm outstretched, oblivious to the man and simply staring at the guitar itself. . . she was about to touch it. . .

Her fingers were about to brush against the neck of the guitar when Mars suddenly snapped to consciousness, giving her a threatening look that she would rather have never seen. She had come so close to him, and really there was no reason for him not to notice her there, so why did he wait for the very last second to snap at her? Luckily, when his voice came, it was level. She had given an audible gasp and a look of panic crossed her face at his reaction, and if his voice had been mean she probably would have straight out started bawling. As it was, her eyes seemed teary enough. Her mouth opened but she was at a loss for words, so it snapped shut just as quickly. Finally, in frustration, she stomped a few steps back, put her hands on her hips, and bent over to Mars’s height. “If ya don’t wanta share your stuff, then just say so.”

But the brisk apology was enough to balm the little wound he’d picked, and she straightened herself back up and was as cheery as a daisy in two seconds flat. She should have already noticed something off with this character, should have taken note of the muttering, or the lack of focus (or was it too much focus?), but Orin lived in her own head, too, and paid no heed. Her smile returned. “Russo!” she boomed the name like she was calling to the gods. “Oh! You are a new member of Cour des Miracles! We have Russo’s here! I mean, I’m sure you knew that. Are you looking for them? I’ve met Liliya and Rurik. I like them. Rurik gave me a fire drink once,” she clutched at her throat with the memory of the alcohol. “It burned for days!”

She scooted up next to him and slipped down into a crouch at his feet, peering up past his guitar and into his shaded eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. You were too busy snarling at me,” she was joking. “What is that?” She held her hand out gesturing to it again, but this time didn’t try to lay her fingers on it.

An exasperated sigh escaped her as she opened her mouth to say something in retort, or protest, though found herself at a loss for words (for once). Despite her willingness to argue, he did have a valid point there, and she couldn’t figure how to fight it. So, accepting her loss, she stayed quiet and moved on with the ebb of their awkward conversation.

“Yeah, vodka, that was it. That’s how Rurik said it, too,” she mused at the mimicked accent. Not once did she seem to notice the man’s distance or stiffness. Her nose rumpled when he took out the cigarette and lit it, but she made no disparaging remark about it, it only smelled funny on the first light. After that, it was woodsy, like campfire, only. . . with a bit more tang to the smoke’s scent. It didn’t bother her, though, and in this day and age, she had never known about all the anti-tobacco propaganda and the war the humans had raged against the habit. Now it had reverted to another simple thing people did for whatever their personal desire. “I would never drink that again. Okay, well, never say never. Maybe eventually. Okay, maybe next time I see Rurik. . .” She trailed off for a moment in self-satisfying babble as she remembered, despite the unpleasant taste, that the alcohol had had a strange and rather pleasant temporary effect on her.

“Oh!” She exclaimed as a hand shot up to her mouth. How rude of her! He had asked her name and she had been so caught up with her curiosity that she ignored the question. She giggled softly. “Sorry about that. I’m Orin Takekuro. And no, Mars Russo, I have not not had an interest in music. I just. . . have never had a chance around an instrument.” She giggled again for no obvious reason - something she said probably amused herself, most likely the double negative. Double negatives tickle her because they are tricky.

“I didn’t grow up here. Any treasures like that were looted from the cities I come from long before I was ever even born. The ones that were left were either scrap, firewood, or fashioned into weapons.” She sighed, staring off into the yard and focusing on the meandering horse for a moment. “But I always thought I would like music!” She was suddenly upbeat again. “I think I understand the concept – most of the books I read mention something about it here or there. Lute, I’ve heard of that, oftentimes carried by bards in plays. And violin, that’s classical. And harp, that makes me think of. . . women wrapped in sheets.” Her expression was just as confused as her voice with the last one, but she was speaking honestly. The relation was undoubtedly from some illustration she had once come across.

“Anyway, the only thing I’ve ever come close to hearing is drums,” she tapped her foot on the ground in a steady rhythm. “The only type of instrument you can pretty much take with you anywhere. Plus, sometimes it’s just damn fun to hit things.” Beneath the steady rhythm, she hummed softly and just slightly out of tune.

“Knock on what door?” Her expression mutated into a mixture of bewilderment and wonder as the man said something that was clearly not directed at her. An eyebrow arched in silent question, but she held back her words for a moment as she leaned forward to peer around Mars to see who he was talking to. Yet, to her dismay, she couldn’t see anyone there. She cocked her head but leaned back and pretended not to notice, although it toiled in her mind. Clearly she just missed something, so she shrugged off Bart’s debut and continued to drum lightly on the ground beneath her words.

“Your father?” She thought a moment, then it dawned on her. “Oh! Rurik’s your father?” Orin knew that the Russo family was large and growing, so it hadn’t occurred to her earlier that Rurik was this man’s father. Although it would not have been unlike the girl to have made the assumption, she just hadn’t thought about it when she’d delved into her anecdote about the vodka. Luckily, Rurik had made a good impression upon Orin and she held the wolf in high esteem, so her face lit up at the realization. “Oh yes, he’s a magnificent wolf! Very hospitable, generous – oh! That makes Liliya your sister, huh? – he taught my brother how to fish, and Liliya cooked them on the beach for us, and we all gorged ourselves, and then he shared the vodka with us, and then we all sat around sharing stories. . .” Her voice took on a dreamy tone as she remembered that relaxing, wonderful day. “We – my brother and me – had only been here for a few days and he really made us feel like family. I haven’t seen him in a little while, though, I would like to visit him some day soon. Oh! Maybe we could all have another cookout on the beach!” She looked up at Mars, hopeful eyes beaming at him. Then her ears tipped back in worry. “So wait, you haven’t met him yet?” If it was true, it was a shame, and she couldn’t fathom why the man was sitting here letting her chatter on when he had a father to meet! Then again, she didn’t know where Rurik lived, maybe Mars didn’t, either? She would never suspect the Russo residence was just one plot over.

In all of it, she never lost time or forgot her drumming, the trance-like thrumming kept on beneath her prattling the entire time. Though now, the duotone man put his fingers to the strings and began strumming the guitar. The music filled the air around them and enveloped Orin, and her body began to sway gently with the melody. “I don’t really drum, either,” she admitted. “I read a lot, but don’t always like the silence that goes with it. So sometimes I tap along to keep my ears entertained. I bet I wouldn’t be really good at it, not for a whole song or composing or anything.” Her tone was neutral, her enthusiasm still there though her boisterous nature was pacified by the music. It calmed her, body and soul, and eased a tension she didn’t even know was there to begin with. Her eyes fluttered closed and she continued to drum, her body still swaying though she didn’t move from her perch. She felt an inner pull to move more fully with the music, but was too soothed to get up and dance just yet.

“Mmm. . .” she muttered an unintelligible noise in answer to his question. After a moment, she realized she hadn’t actually said anything, and opened her eyes and turned her gaze back to Mars. “I don’t know Lunenburg very well. The only time I’ve been here is to pass through the streets on my way to the Shattered Coast. You should come see my lighthouse sometime.” Well, it wasn’t really her lighthouse yet. The structure hadn’t been deemed safe enough to live in yet, and with her lack of carpentry skills, the repairs were slow going. Still, in spirit, it belonged to her.

“I was actually here to look for a library. I think I’ve seen a shopping district, that’s where I was headed. Maybe they have something there? Some old libraries have that kind of stuff stored, too. I don’t know if there is one here, but it couldn’t hurt to find out. Wanna come?” Her rhythm finally ceased, and she stood up, stretching her legs out; she had been crouching the whole time and her calves were cramping. Something popped when she wiggled the tension out of her back. She offered a hand as though to help Mars out of his seat, though the music had eased her usually overzealous spirit, so she used her brain this time instead of doing the usual Orin move, which would have consisted of yanking Mars out of his chair before he could answer, and pulling him along the sidewalk.

Knock on what door? the woman butted in. Both of the males looked at the woman, steel eyes sharp, cold. Bart was the one to take his eyes off of her before Mars did. Mars' eyes were stuck on the pink haired being, his eyes looking hard at her dreadlocks. He finally shook his head and dropped the altercation that went on between the two males. She had gone on as well, first asking who his father was. Before he could say the name, she had figured it out herself and explained to him about how wonderful he was when he taught them to fish, and they cooked and feasted and drank. Mars wondered how fun it would be if he was there. The male never went to a party that Bartholomew didn't claim. Bart always showed up for a party because Mars sure as hell didn't want to be at no party. He was too busy thinking about how he needed to do other things than socialize with the others, and drink and get stoned and all that good stuff. Bart, however, enjoyed parties more than one should. He'd get drunk until he passed out, he'd smoke until his lungs were nothing but shriveled up pea pods. Sounds like a fuckin' party to me! Bart exclaimed, taking Mars' mouth and letting his voice become lively, animated. Mars was quick to take control of the body once more though, nose wrinkling lightly as he silently shooed the second male back to his spot to the right of Mars.

She went on to ask "So wait, you haven’t met him yet?" An audit fell back again, and Mars puckered his lips a little bit and he looked down at his guitar. No. I haven't. he muttered, his voice calm and quiet yet again, Bart's voice long gone in the wind, and Mars' voice reigning supreme. She was quick to move onto the drumming, Mars' fingers having stopped a few moments in a rest while her foot tapped on. He let the tapping go for about 8 notes before he began to play again, the melody was soft, harmonious, like the sound of spring coming over the lands. That's what it sounded like to him. Bartholomew would have to agree. She spoke of reading a lot and not liking the silence. Silence was almost never silence, just as sleeping was never really sleeping for Mars. Only when his body was completely worn out was when Bart and Mars would both let the body rest. I'm sure I can compose something eventually. I want to learn it since I have the time, and the will. All I need is the supplies. after all, he knew how to play his other instruments pretty much with his eyes closed. All he needed was his ears anymore. He lifted his gaze to the woman again, his fingers running slowly and happily across the strings. The two would get lost in the rhythm and beat of the music that was coming from around them that he had forgotten almost everything for a split second. With a blink of those glazed steel eyes, he snapped out of it and the woman spoke again about their location and her not knowing much about Lunenberg. She was only there because she wanted to find some books. Mars could go book hunting, he didn't mind doing it. He actually favored the idea and he nodded his head to her when she asked if he wanted to come along.

Mars took his guitar from his lap and put it to the side of the chair. The woman offered to help him up, and he took her hand, pulling himself up. He danced on his clawed feet for a second, getting his pants straightened out as well as his jacket. He didn't need the jacket, but he was weird and kinda liked to have this jacket on. He felt bare without it since he hadn't made another t-shirt from when his last one ripped up. He hadn't had the time (since he had been moving every day for most of the day, only stopping for drink and food) to sew while he was on the horse, and he only worked on small projects when he had been riding. His studded belt was that project. This was only pushing studs through leather. He easily did this as he had found the studs on the grounds or in the ruins. He found studs while looking for lighters plenty of times. Mars regardlessly got up and fixed himself up before looking back at his guitar. He was slightly scared to leave it here, but he figured that no one would try to pull a fast one on him if Vox is around and it looks like it might be slightly inhabited. Maybe this girl would be nice enough to help him move into his house. He didn't know, nor did he want to ask right away. He was still distant from the woman.

The two walked along the neighborhood of Lunenberg, looking around as they went along. He looked into dusty old stores until he had found one of particular interest to him, but not entirely what either of them were looking for. Mars had a wide range of interests, and costumes worked for acting as well as fabric that he could reuse. He looked at the woman and stopped at the front door that was still boarded up. this is a costume store. We can find clothes here... the male spoke as he had taken the locked door and pulled on it a few times. The locks still worked and were hard to open after so many years of being closed. Mars stepped back and then he kicked the door, which had made it crack off of the hinge. He continued to kick it until it had been open enough to them both to fit through the door. He looked back at her and nodded his head before he walked into the store and he wandered around, finding hats, old clothing, even some really really old armor (many were rusted and un-usable). He'd find something here sooner or later, he knew that he'd find something great here.

Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks