Tiny water droplets landed on the salt and pepper scalp of Leon. They ran through his hair and down his forehead. One would always find its way to the tip of his nose, it tickled. Leon missed his hat, the great protector from the tears of clouds.

The rainy season was almost over and Leon could not have been happier. "One more month, one more month." Leon would mutter to himself when the rain was incredibly bad.

His dusty skin had faded since the rain had started, he rarely saw the sun. His freckles were more pronounced and one would probably be able to count every individual one, if one cared enough and had the time.

He decided to retreat under a tent that held a stall that sold fruit. Despite the dreary weather, the fruit was bright and colorful, they must have been freshly polished. He nodded at the human selling his wares and turned away to look at the passer byes.

Leon wished for one thing most that day, a job. He needed to deliver something somewhere. He just needed to.

Clocks, raining again, Henri sighed slightly as he peered out into the rain that was pouring off the slight awning he had set up under. Still, the dreary deluge wasn't going to ruin his good mood, one that still lingered after five days none the less.

Sitting on a tall crate turned sideways, Henri leaned back against the wall behind him, his precious fiddle tucked under his chin, playing away like it was the middle of spring. It was a lyric-less ditty that went round and round, with little shoots and flourishes that made what could have been monotonous into something lively and catchy.

One foot braced against his crate, the other swinging loose to the time of the beat, Henri looked every bit the wandering vagabond; a musical gypsy, playing the time away with a foolish grin on his face.

Leon's foot started tapping the ground. Music was calling. He glanced to his right, saw nothing, glanced to his left and saw the fiddle. There was a person playing the fiddle, but the fiddle was the focal point of his vision.

He saw the bow go back and forth and the hands caress the strings, it filled Leon with enthusiasm, he almost forgot it was raining. He started walking towards the musician.

He studied the musicians face. He was obviously a wick, Leon knew that before he even felt the field. His dusty skin reminded Leon of when he was a young wick, first travelling around on his own. Henri's hat reminded Leon of his discarded hat. The musicians could have been a blue, deformed version of his.

"That is some great music, kov. How long have you been playing. It makes me want to tap my foot." Leon glanced down at his foot. "What'ya know, it already is."

Oblivious to the world, it was only after the wick spoke that Henri knew someone was there. Not stopping the music, Henri opened an eye to take a look at the fellow who had been drawn in by his playing. The wick was a colorful clash of black and white, from his slacks to the root of his hair. Quite the contrast to himself, Henri's clothes containing practically every color known to man. Even the musician's hair struggled between the many shades of vibrant red to blackberries-black. Still the wick seemed amiable enough... and it was obvious that he appreciated good music.

“Been playin' like this since I was a pina boch,” Henri grinned in reply to the stark wicks compliment as the kov tapped his foot. Ah so the kov wanted to dance eh?

“What say you we kick it up a notch? Ye chen?” Without waiting for a reply, and hardly missing a beat, Henri dove into a shanty jig that bounced and whirled lively. Where the song before had been merely toe-tapping, this was nearly infectious; a song made for dance.

(( sorry so short ))

Leon wasn’t prepared for a jig to spring from the musician’s feet. He seemed the sort to just sit and play, not dance and play. He was thrown back by the spontaneity of the incident. Most people in the harbor wouldn’t dance out of nowhere, for fear of getting shot in the legs. This one must have not been in Old Rose long. Even though it had only been about a month and a half, since he settled, Leon learned to be quick and sly on the streets of the harbor.

Even though Leon had become cautious, he couldn’t help but dance; it was in his blood. His mother had instilled the value of dance and arts in him at a young age. His mother, a native of the Falling Stone taught him how to dance during his teen years and it had been one of his passions ever since.

His feet started moving to the beat, moving elegantly flowing with the music. He was performing moves his mother had taught him five years ago, like he learned them yesterday. It was always good to return an old love.

“You’re not that bad, kov. It’s good to see someone else can dance in the harbor, besides the tumbles, if you catch my drift.” Leon winked at the slightly younger wick. “Been here long?” Leon said, as he finished a very leg binding move.

Having grown up in a spoke of musicians, Henri knew well that music and dancing often go hand in hand, and at times impossible to have one without the other. That being said, the young wick was a musician through and through, but though he may not be much of a dancer, that did not mean that the lad was immune to the call to dance or able to deny said call when it came.

And he most certainly felt like dancing today, despite the fact that it was still pouring rain on the semi-crowded streets of the disreputable Old Rose Harbor and most likely not the brightest of things to be doing. It didn't matter, the call to dance was there and this wick was in far to good of a mood to refuse.

And, it seemed, so was the stranger as he had quickly shaken off whatever inhibitions he had and joined in with the fiddler's dancing with a sprightly jig of his own. He was the better dancer as well, Henri observed, gliding through intricate turns and difficult bends that would have looked ungainly and awkward if done by a lesser talent. The young wick was most impressed, but merely grinned and took it in stride, playing away on his beloved fiddle all the more.

“Junta Kov!” Henri laughed at the wick's wink, “Your not shy of talent yourself.”

Henri gave a twist and a kick as the black and white man finished his bend, trilling the bar as he repeated the melody with vivacious glee. He laughed out right at the kov's question, not missing a beat as he turned and grinned at the fellow.

“I've come ta th' urbo not long ago, its true,” he sang more than said as he danced, his musician's heart unable to resist the temptation to put his words to fit the music,“But it's far long enough, I'm telling you! Ta find a rosh ta vach!”

That was the crux of the matter, it seemed... That macha witch had gotten poor Henri's heart to beat to a new maw, and now he was dancing like a fool in the rain and the streets and he couldn't care more or less.

This young musician had caught the mind of Leon. The lad didn’t seem to have a care in the world, all he wanted to do was dance and talk about girls. Leon could have stood there all day doing the exact same thing, in fact, when he was a lad himself. He would go around to all the ladies in the tribe and dance with them, it was a bit of a courting tradition he tried to start; it didn’t take off.

Leon had calmed down a little, resuming his foot tapping. His dancing had only lasted about a minute or two, but it always seemed like forever. He entered a different world when he danced, a beautiful world full of movement. When he wanted, Leon could exist in motion.

Leon watched the boy as he stopped dancing as well. “So, it seems you’ve met a girl recently. You’ve gotten bit by the bug of love. It’s sweet, isn’t it?” Leon grinned; he remembered his failed days with his tribe. As much as he wanted, Leon would never be a ladies man.

“So what’s ‘er name, kov, and since we are on the subject, what’s your name? I’m Leon, Leon Publian.” Leon bowed quickly, and then shot back up.

Laughing as he finished his silly, only slightly awkward twirl, Henri flumped himself back down on his crate, resuming a lazier tempo to the happy song. His heart beat pleasantly at the unexpected activity, but the wick didn't mind it too much, after all it had been pounding rather quick as of late.

“Sweeter than' I've ever known, me kov,” Henri grinned at the now named Leon with only a slightly lovesick look about him, “Llian's her name... a macha rosh I've ne're seen th' likes of a'for. Prolly'll ne're see th' likes of again either...”

The young musician drifted off in a slight daze, his fiddling taking on a slightly wistful tone. Shaking his head at his own foolish antics, Henri snapped out of it, straitening in his seat and finally stopping his playing. The silence was only mildly startling, the sound of the still falling rain sounding loud to the ears, but still the young wick grinned amiably.

“M'names Henri, kov,” he grinned as he tipped his hat to the man, “Recently denk from a Red Crow spoke. Found my kint ta crowded fur my liking, ye chen? Old Rose here's been treating me right enough... Still, its benny ta find a tekaa who knows how ta dance caoja gkacha, oes?”

“Well it’s an honor to meet ya Henri and it’s good to hear that the harbor has been treating you well; I wish it did the same for me.” Leon let out a loud chuckle. He liked seeing other people find themselves in the harbor; it wasn’t treating him as good though, but his luck could change at any moment.

“Oh, dancing is in my blood. My mother was part of the Falling Stone tribe, until she married my da. After that, she joined my birth kint. I’m a Laughing Sky, if you couldn’t tell.” Leon’s tribe was known for their jovial and forgiving attitudes towards everything.

“So what brought you to the harbor, besides leaving your kint? You could have easily went to any other small town in the country.”

(( sfsp ))