Khymarah stood outside of the doctor's surgery, wondering if she was moony. It was evening and she had no idea if she could honestly trust Ivan Mottoni or not. But, if things got crazy, she would cast and run. Nodding to herself, she knocked on the door and called out.

"Doctor?"

Ivan had fairly confidently resigned himself to an evening of solitude. He had once again smoked the reccomended dose for an adult whale, and the trauma of the afternoon was feeling altogether more distant.

Still, the conversation with Alstair had disturbed him, and he had not yet decided quite what his next move was.

Ivan leaned back on his chair and stretched. His spine made sounds like a train starting from stationary; carriages jerking to life, bumping, clicking and squealing, pulling the subsequent vertebrae into motion. He watched the smoke coil upwards, form familiar shapes and then dissipate.

Ahhhhh.....

His relief was short lived.



It would seem that Ivan had tipped himself perhaps a little too far, and so when his foot left the desk in suprised reaction, the path of least resistance for the consummate mass of Ivan and the chair was retrogressive rather than antecedent. By which it is meant that he fell over.


Mostly unphased, Ivan righted himself and hurried down the stairs to see if the galdor really had returned.
He opened the door with a little difficulty, and lo and behold, there stood a very nervous looking Khymarah.

Methinks this girl has a terribly poor instinct for self preservation.

"Hello!"

Ivan palmed his face.

"I am...so...completely sorry about earlier. I'm amazed you came back at all, to tell the truth. Please come in, sit down, and I will attempt to explain."

Khymarah heard a thump, some skuffling, then the door opened.



Nodding with a small smile, she entered the surgery and looked around and seated herself in a slightly off kilter chair.

"Well, to be honest, I'm amazed at myself. But I wanted to talk. Your friend is not here I take it?" She saids softly, noticing the place smelt a lot like the Toy Lantern.

My friend.

Ivan smirked. He was amazed at how close he had come to killing Alstair, or at least trying to.

"Yes, yes, he's gone. They say to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Well Alstair is both, in a way. What part he truly has to play in all this I do not yet know, but I feel it will be a major one..."

Ivan trailed off. He wasn't quite willing to explain the whole of his conversation with the man, especially his maniac plan. A secret was almost a physical thing, an asset, fragile and precious. Plus, while he felt this woman was trustworthy almost intuitively, he knew almost nothing about her, and his mind was full of questions. If she wanted to talk, he would let her talk.

"But enough of that. You are here, and I'm sure you have many questions. I have my own questions sure enough, but they can wait."

Ivan inhaled deeply. His sense of smell was greatly stunted, and all he percieved was the scent of the field. He could practically see the desert. The sensation was bittersweet, but he savoured it nevertheless.

Wait. This looks weird.

"Um, perhaps the lounge upstairs would be a better spot to talk. It is more cosy, and has fewer wafting medicinal smells to contend with. I'd vouch that you've had quite enough discomfort for one day."

Ivan motioned towards the stairs that led to his living quarters.

"I will be up momentarily with some refreshments. Another cup of tea perhaps, miss Khymarah?"

Khymarah nodded, watching the doctor closely. She was more than relieved the other man wasn't there and some of the nervousness washed out of her. There was an odd sensation about the man in front of her briefly, and she looked at the floor, blushing slightly. Was there something she'd been doing wrong? His pause was just a little to long.



Smiling widely, she made a small laugh as she walked to the stairs.

"I have had a rather interesting day doctor, and somewhere cozy is definitely on the cards. Tea would be lovely, Mister Mottoni." Her hand rested on the staircase and she tapped it thoughtfully, but decided to save any questions for the lounge. Looking up into the evening air, she ascended the staircase and opened the door at the top. Inside she was greeted by a room with a fireplace and an obvious spot where a painting once hung above it. Two lounges either side greeted her in the small area, along with a low burning fire and a few low set lamps. It felt cozy and safe. Taking the left hand lounge, she sat on the deep rich red cushion, briefly taken aback by how soft it was. She sank into it and leaned against the soft back, sighing and closing her eyes. It was definitely nicer to be up here. Opening her eyes, she looked at the empty spot on the wall and couldn't help but wonder what had graced it prior. Brushing out her skirt, she waited patiently for the doctor.

Ivan noted her hesitation, but it didn't look like the deliberation between fighting and flying he'd seen in the afternoon. It seemed like genuine curiosity.

She disappeared up the stairs, and Ivan was once again by himself in the surgery.
Some remote light kindled in Ivan. He realised it had been a long time since he had any female company visit him. Plenty had come and gone with medical concerns, and call girls were a frequent distraction when his insomnia got bad, but that was hardly the same thing.

He fetched the tray, and with a little more care and patience this time, assembled the necessary components. He Added a few slices of Viendan Sandwich cake to the tray to complete the arrangement, and wandered up the stairwell to the lounge.

Khymarah thought she could hear footsteps coming up the stairs and quickly straighted her dress and brushed a hand through her long hair, making sure the trinkets were sitting properly. She paused, what was she doing? Her dress and hair were fine, but she was fussing, and she felt silly instantly. Resting her hands in her lap, she waited for the doctor to enter, her head already zooming through the many questions she had.

Ivan slowly opened the door at the top of the stairs and held the laden tray carefully with one arm. The door served as a wipe transition to the next scene, in which our protagonist woos the vulnerable young artist while attemping to explain what the clock just happened.

She did look lovely. Khymarah has made herself comfortable on one of the loungers and sat patiently. Ivan would have taken in the scene for a moment too long if he hadn't noticed the fire was becoming embers. He placed the tray on the table between them and dropped two large chunks of firewood into the furnace to keep the room from going cold. He sat down and began to prepare the tea. Milk, and two sugars.

Khymarah looked up and smiled at the man, almost getting up to help him, but saw that he was quite capable of carrying the tray to the table.



Watching the fire flare and spark briefly, Khymarah was thankful for the addition. She would never have said anything, but it was slightly cooler in here than she had expected. Not uncomfortable, but just a bit cold. Raising an eyebrow, she watched as the doctor made her tea, pleasently aware he'd remembered how she took it.

"Thankyou Mister Mottoni. I have to say, you have a good memory." She paused, then pressed on.

"How are you friends with that frightening man? Doesn't it worry you he will find you out?"

Yura had milk and two.
The similarities continued to mount. Ivan wondered if this would be good for his emotional health.

"Please, call me Ivan."



"Oh it worries me more than I let on, I assure you. I take no pleasure in the attention of the seventen. He just turned up unannounced this morning. I am in no immediate danger, but we must now be extra careful. It would seem that the Party are not the only ones moving against the King..."

He then answered her previous question, so as not to get too caught up in the details of Alstair's so far secret plan.

"What you heard is true, I healed him, at least partially. I suppose you could say I have a soft spot for Galdori who treat with humans."

He smiled pleasantly, and handed her the tea. His fingertips were still sensitive from the prolonged contact that afternoon.

Khymarah smiled shyly and dropped her eyes to the cake. It was nice to be a little less formal with the doctor. She listened as he spoke about Alstair.



Her smile was replaced by a concerned look, not quite sure what Ivan meant, but getting a small inkling. She decided not to pursue that line of discussion. It seemed like something a little to serious for her involvement yet.



Taking the tea, the galdor smiled up at him.

"I am a healer, and so far its been mostly humans. That was why the Party took me in." Looking down at the tea, she made a little face. "I do not have such a good relationship with my own race. The disgust me, cruel and fickle things. Humans are much more honest and kind." She sipped on the tea and nodded approvingly.

"Do you know many galdori healers? Ones that are happy to heal humans...Ivan?" She couldn't help but notice the doctor was rather attractive, perhaps it was the lighting? Something about the way he smiled at her gave her goosebumps.

Without gravity, and more as a philosophical musing, he said,
"I think...I think things would be worse if it were the other way round. Not only would humans dominate, but they would harbour tremendous jealousy. They would outlaw magic, banishing it to the corners of Vita."

His musing turned playful.

"Humans can be quite the villainous race, given half a chance."



His smile faded, but gradually, only noticable once it had entirely transformed to a neutral and faraway glaze. Apart from skin tone, they even looked the same when focus was disengaged. Ivan snapped out of it, and the halo around Khymarah melted, to sharpen on a look of shy hunger. Was it curiosity, or something more...?
Ivan checked himself. He was letting his mind run away to the desert, when right here a woman was awaiting an answer.

"I have known another, yes. In Mugroba. There, the weather is cruel and the people are kind. Perhaps you would like it there? Have you travelled much?"



That interested Ivan greatly. He didn't feel much like talking shop, but he simply had to know more.

"Healing...is it a living, or a speciality? Are you a medic by trade?"

She nodded slowly, not really thinking about it like that before. She was so focused on helping the rest of the races that she hadn't taken a moment to realize that there had to be some baddies in there.



Her face reddened and she sipped the tea as a distraction, not entirely sure if he was talking about his race on a whole or..himself? She couldn't help but crack a little smile. When she looked up at him again she noticed he had a far away look on his face, and he was looking at her. The ruby haired galdor smiled shyly, feeling altogether giddy. It just didn't come to her that men found her even remotely attractive, in most of the galdor mens eyes she was impure and therefore, ugly.



She shook her head, looking at the fire.

"No, I haven't. I'm afraid I've lived a rather sheltered life. I went from Vienda to Brunnhold then back to Vienda." Turning back to him she tucked a stray lock behind her ear.

"I've heard about mugroba though. I don't think I would be very useful there. Well, not in Anaxian clothing anyway. All together too hot. Do the galdori dress differently there?"



Khymarah pursed her lips, not entirely sure anymore. She laughed nervously and shrugged.

"I can't honestly say for sure anymore. It used to just be a specialty, the mona seem to take to me when I heal. But since joining the resistance, I believe it might have become a living." Making a wry face, she drank again. Being up here, with the doctor and his strangely captivating glances was making her feel rather nervous, in a good way. She felt comfortable being able to talk with someone like this, without hiding anything. And without feeling awkward about being a...sympathizer.

Ivan was starting to enjoy the effect he was having on her; he seemed to make her fidget and squirm with discomfort. It was a bad deal for her, but the shy smiles and batting eyes were a fireworks display for him.



Oh yes.

"Mmm, their dress is highly adapted to the climate, and very exotic."

The image of Khymarah standing on a dune formulated. She was turning to look back at Ivan while elements of her desert dress flowed around in a powerful gust. He realised it was recycled footage from memories long past, and that the imagined Khymarah had significantly darker skin.
Ivan thought she would look stunning in a mugrobi robe, but he held his tongue.



Ivan nodded. Galdori willing to join the resistance were rare indeed. Delicate and unique combinations of factors led to them changing sides. This often made for interesting candidates, but more importantly with indispensable skills. He was not suprised she found herself in great demand.

"And before you joined? What was your profession?"

(( http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=NAgX1jO3No0 ))

Khymarah thought about the very few murgobi traders she had seen in the markets and how thin and limited their clothing was. She raised her eyebrows slightly in a sort of oh, and quickly sipped on the tea.



This time her whole face lit up and she grinned at him, this was her real passion. She spoke animatedly.

"I was, am, an artist. I paint portraits for galdori nobles who think they simply must be shown themselves daily in great detail." She bit her lip in mock shame, as though teasing her fellow galdori was a bad thing. Taking a moment to sip her tea, she smiled again.

"Its not exactly a thriving business but it keeps me occupied."

That was too much for Ivan. He looked for an excuse, and when he found it, to reach over for a slice of cake, he crossed his legs.

"An artist you say? What medium do you paint in? Oils? Tempera?"

Ivan remembered being taken to a few galleries in Vienda by his parents when he was a child. His mother would tell him about the artist and the history of the painting, the meanings of the objects and the people the people and their arrangement, the metaphors and subtext encoded within. Meanwhile his father would discuss family business with associates, being in a place they knew they would not be spied upon.



"Well, if work's slow, I might just have something for you."

Ivan gestured to the negative space on the wall, while pointing a plate of sandwich cake towards Khymarah.

"You probably noticed the gap there. Until very recently I had an oil painting up there, of my family. My father comissioned Elgar Faust to do it, in '89. Are you familiar with his work?
Yes, the room looks quite bare without it, but I was forced to part with it.
I wonder, if you are looking for a commission, what you think would look good up there?"

Khymarah didn't notice anything out of the ordinary as Ivan moved to cross his legs, but she did feel slightly like she'd missed something big.



The ruby haired galdor put her cup down on the table and smiled.

"Oils. I find they work better for me. Tempera always comes out too thin and flat."



Looking up at the blank spot, she leaned over and took one of the cakes, biting into it delicately. It was a very good slice. The doctor knew his cake.



She swallowed quickly and nodded eagerly. She knew of Elgars works, some of them had inspired her at Brunnhold to take up the arts full time. Looking back at Ivan, her eyes sparkled.

"Oh my! Yes I am familiar with Faust! I don't think I could paint anything near as beautiful as his works. But if your serious, I think something exotic? You spoke of mugroba earlier. If you don't want a portrait of anyone in particular, I would love to paint something with a mugrobi theme. Do you have any ideas?" Her face was earnest and she sat closer to the edge of the lounge, caught up in the idea of painting something new.

Ivan smirked, the smile starting at one side of his face and spreading across. He loved to see passion in a woman, no matter what it was, and he could tell she was crazy about art.

He thought about her question. There was a lot of horror in Mugroba, but undoubtedly a lot of beauty at the same. Surely there'd be plenty of exotic scenes she could conjure...
Then it hit him. Of course he had an idea.

"What about....a dune?
A dune, With a woman in traditional Mugrobi clothing. It could be blowing in the strong winds. Then you'd have no choice but to find out for yourself what they wear."

He beamed some more.

"The sun, high in the sky, at the 5th house..."

His gaze became distant.

The image he painted for her with words was beautiful. The young woman felt caught up with him as his eyes became far away for a second time that night. She held a hand to her heart.

"Oh, Ivan! Oh that sounds beautiful! I can see it now. I'll look into finding out what they wear as soon as I can and start immediately." Her mind was already moving. She wanted to sketch as soon as she could. Eating the rest of the cake, she smiled at the man, not wanting to disturb whatever it was that he was thinking about. It must have been something that he missed for that gaze to be so longing.

"Doctor? I need to ask, would you like to visit me at my manor in say,four days so you can see the progress?" Her voice was soft, like she didn't want to interrupt him.

Ivan once again brought the room into focus. He always got like this when he'd been smoking.

"I'm sorry, my mind wanders to familiar places...manor you say? Where is it?"

Ivan hadn't any plans on the 22nd that couldn't be abruptly cancelled without a reason.

"That sounds lovely. Does your manor have a gallery then, miss Khymarah..?"

Ivan thought about paintings. He did not, however, think about the Party. In fact, he'd almost completely forgotten all about it. What was it they said about business and pleasure..?

She put down her piece of cake on the corner of her saucer and took a pencil and a small notebook from her coin purse. Writing down the address, she handed it to the nostalgic man, brushing his hand accidentally and blushed.

"Yes, um, its It's number 244. Theraldon Manor. Big gold sign, rather lavish. Can't miss it, as it stands out like a sore thumb. Right beside the river."

Tucking away the writing utensils, she picked up her cake again, trying to focus on it and not think about how sometimes his eyes looked at her in such a way she felt giddy. She popped the last of it in her mouth quickly.



She smiled again.

"Please, just call me Khymarah. And I do have a small one, upstairs. It's more my studio than an actual gallery. Only my personal pieces are in there. No client works." Her dual colored eyes looked at the floor. Some of the pieces were more personal than she liked to remember. Turning them back to the doctor, she blushed a deep crimson.

"If you like, I mean, after you've decided if your happy with what I have for your piece so far, perhaps you can have a look if you like. Not..if you don't want to, I don't mind." She was rambling, and took a big breath then laughed nervously.

"Sorry, I've never shown anyone else my works." Let alone my studio, she thought to herself.

Ivan didn't know what electricity felt like, but he could hazard a guess.



He knew the area vaguely, and had certainly seen the manor in question on many of his late night smoking strolls. It struck Ivan that Khymarah had a great deal to lose in joining the resistance, and very little to gain. He couldn't understand how the product of privelige and power could ever be like this. Was it just naievete?

"Yes, I know the place."



Ivan was no fool - he had clearly caught her off guard with a very personal request. It wasn't that she didn't mind, more that she was if anything too sensitive about her work. Ivan had met a few of these types. It was endearing, but he'd have to tred very carefully.



He put his hands out in a casual pacifying gesture.

"I would love to see, but only if it's alright with you. May I ask what sort of subject matter you tend to portray when you're not doing portraits?"

The red head relaxed back into the couch, looking at her hands, fidgeting. This was the first time she'd told anyone, it was almost embarrassing.

"Oh, just figure work. And some dream visions. There are a few there from the visions I get sometimes when working with the mona. A lot of them are rather sombre, I was not the most cheerful of people less than a moon ago." She said quietly.

"But I would be happy to show you. I can trust you I think." Her smile was shyly playful and her eyes glanced up at him.

Ahh, figures! Ivan had always harboured secret hatred for the dead allegories, arrangements and still life observations. Something was missing and it was always present in figurative drawing. If he hadn't gone into medicine, he probably would have become a sculptor.



He glimpsed a scar in the girl. There was more to this creature than met the eye. He wanted to know more, but knew not to pry - yet. There'd be plenty of time to pry later, he thought.

"Images of dreams? That would be fascinating! I have had some vivid ones recently, I would very much like to see how you approach putting them to canvas."



Being a doctor he exuded an air of trustworthiness, and he was often bound to secrecy. Infact it wasn't even just his dayjob that demanded a covert trustworthy demeanour, so it was practically a second nature. But he liked to think it was a little more than that.

She didn't often look directly at him, but this time the emerald-saphire eyes met his. He was glad he was sitting down. And cross legged.

She nodded slightly and smiled.

"Alright then, its a da...I mean..erm...its settled? Yes. I will get home and start tomorrow! And I will see you on the 22nd then?" Her face was the color of her hair as she tried to cover the near slip of the tongue. It wasn't a date, clock it! What a silly joke, she thought. Standing, she smoothed her dress out.

"So Ivan Mottoni, doctor, I shall see you then? Anytime is alright, I will be home all day." Her voice was casual but inside her heart raced at the idea the mysterious and attractive older man would be coming to her own house. The blush deepened at thoughts she well knew a girl shouldn't have about almost strangers!