He is a strange creature, and I am sure it is a he because he looks like a he, so I will call him a 'he.' He does not notice me, although his gaze aligns briefly with my own blue one, it is no sooner that he is reaching out across the heads of all those gathered. A sponge, soaking up the attention now directed his way. So many faces, smells, voices, questions, some barge ahead of others, some act as though they are more important than everyone else. All of them are silenced as that same, sing-song voice calls out to the crowd, hushing fears and brushing inquiries aside. "Hello and hello, and hello!" he speaks, lips pulling back into one of the biggest grins I have ever witnessed, perhaps aided by the atypical structure of his mouth. "All in good time! I shall answer all, in good time!"

I blink up at him slowly, as he speaks of things that five months ago I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams. Things that I still have not seen, yet hear whispered from the lips of horses and nature alike. He tells of the Gods, of their might and of one in particular; the God of Earth. A name, I have a name and I am enthralled by that alone, just barely hanging on to the rest of his grand speech. This seems to happen often, my curiosity so stolen and passed around by what others would consider nonsense. To me it is life, a distraction from the stone filly lurking somewhere amongst the swarming bodies, my Mother who was not there to welcome me home from my harrowing journey. I am not so deaf that I would completely ignore the masterpiece (strange, beautiful-) standing so close I could smell the reef radiating off of his rubber-like flesh. Kisamoa, Kis, naturally. "... If you were to 'help' me, why then I could finish my work a great deal faster!" Maybe I was not listening to the whole thing, maybe I had missed a good deal of the information he offered. Yet who was I to walk away from such an opportunity, every nerve in my brain screeched in protest as my jaw unhinged to reply "I would love to grow flowers, and trees too! Can I help you too?"

Everyone wanted to help it seemed, suspicion arose as it should have, but nobody said 'no' to his face. Suddenly it felt as though conversation was getting off topic, probably because the Kisamoa had stopped talking, his pretty voice sunk back into his foreign lungs. I look up at him with bright, expectant eyes while those around me inter-mingle and initiate. I know so few, Syrena, the black one, the bully and "Virga!" In our last meeting I had not the confidence to cry out as I did now, voice lifting to be heard above the cacophony of chit-chat. Here my surprise and joy was so great and so sudden, my chest ached as logic attempted to catch up with the riptide of emotion flooding through my system. He probably did not even remember me, so long ago it was that we had briefly exchanged words - yet for some odd reason lost hope was not something that tended to keep me at bay.

"Talk."


ooc - get's side-tracked and agrees to help because she heard him ask for help lol speaks directly to @Virga :D