Date: It is the eighth of Jirguz and the Camel Festival is ongoing. It is Celeday, the first day of the week. It is the hour of evensong, which is evening. ------- Location: The Seaglass Inn, by the hearth
Chatter is as low as the crackling embers in the hearth as exhausted fishermen and dockworkers arrive to drown their sorrows after long labours out in the mist. Politely, but insistently, Belhajj, enormous and plodding, reaches and grasps inexorably the hem of a passing server. "Anything," he begs the boy, pleadingly looking level at him. "But a lot," he adds before pushing the boy on his way. Turning to Halima Tifour, Belhajj smiles, visibly exhausted, but equally as clear in his rising relaxation as he melts into the evening Inn.
(Halima): Chuckling, Halima watches the server scurry off from their table. “Whatever he gets you, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed,” she says confidently. “Donna’s cooking has never let me down, so far.” After the server disappears into the crowd of the common room, she turns back to Belhajj and returns his smile. “Though I would recommend the tea in particular, if I haven’t somehow managed to drink it all by now.”
(Belhajj): Lost briefly in thought, the massive man drums his massive fingers across the massive slab of phonolite he carries with him. A sound like bells or like whispers chimes from the stone as he appears lost in thought, a state shattered by an abrupt laugh as he turns, smiling to Halima. "I've been drinking not but rain water and pine tea these past months," says Belhajj from behind a great big smile. Relaxing some, he folds his arms across his chest, but as he does so he scoots closer to the stone, making sure his thigh is touching the glimmering slab. "You fancy yourself an investigator? Or merely morbidly curious?" He asks Halima with a squint, eyes forwards toward the hearth.
(Halima): “Morbidly curious is an apt way of of describing me, I suppose,” Halima answers with a measure of grim humor. “Better than just plain morbid, anyway. But an investigator…?” She thinks on that for a moment, drumming her fingers on the table. “In some ways, I suppose. More of a researcher or scholar, maybe, though I’ve largely been working as a scribe since we all washed up here.”
She gives Belhajj a quizzical look. “And what about you?” she asks. “What do you plan on doing here, while you’re waiting on a ship to arrive? Will you continue working in the lumber yards?”
(Belhajj): An almost grandfatherly hmm rises from Belhajj as he nods along to Halima's words, grinning here or there beneath his bushy beard "An inquisitive mind keeps us young," he decides. "But beware of cats and becoming one, the world's a dangerous place," he says, adding in a bit of ramble "Back west in the mountain places where I used to live we ha-" cutoff abruptly, he begins to lick his lips, a flash of pink within the silver-grey of his facial hair as a bowl of soup, practically a bucket, is brought to him. "This will do nicely..." says Belhajj as he lifts the bowl to his mouth, his adams apple bobbing as he takes massive gulps. "-tsk!-tsk!-tsk!" he cries, followed by a puffing -huff!-huff!-huff!- as he cools his mouth "Hot, hot!" He nearly shouts, drawing the attention of the inn before smiling enormously at the serving boy "But delicious!" turning back to speak stuttered to Halima he answers "I was a feller for a few weeks, boss Tholbert saw me handy and sent me to fix up an old building in the dockworker's housing district. A few foreigners are keen to work on it, perhaps you've heard of it?" he asks in his answer.
(Halima): “I might have heard of it,” Halima says, not seeming quite sure. “I’ve tried to get a lay of the town, but there’s a great deal of it I haven’t seen. Especially the more out of the way places.” She rubs her chin, racking her brain. “Ah, come to think of it,” she finally says, snapping her fingers, “I do know one or two places that could stand to be fixed up. There was talk of making one an orphanage a few months ago, I think? Or perhaps a school of some sort. Does that sound familiar?”
(Belhajj): The old man's bushy eyebrows raise and waggle above the rising lip of his soup bowl, an expression of approval regarding this potential charity. Swallowing loudly, Belhajj answers "Afraid I've no knowledge really of the work. Foreigners building something, you go help 'em's what 'e said." Shrugging his massive shoulders, he lifts his bowl of soup back to his lips, pausing briefly to ask "You have some interest in such charitable work?"
(Halima): “I’m not personally interested in getting involved in such projects, at least with the way things are now,” Halima answers reluctantly, almost as if guilty to admit such a thing. “Maybe I’d be willing to help on some level, but there’s a significant amount I must attend to. That we all need to attend to, I reckon. These murders, the Mist…” She trails off, frowning.
There’s a moment of quiet from Halima after that somewhat dramatic statement before she speaks up again. “Though I do enjoy teaching people what I know, sometimes, especially about languages. It’s as much for my benefit as theirs, even if it is charitable. I’ve never been one to pass on a scholarly discussion.”
She glances over at the slab of phonolite sitting nearby. “Do you consider yourself a charitable sort? Or a spiritual sort, perhaps. Having taken up the task of carrying that stone with you, searching for a place to put it and enrich the lives of others, I assume you’re at least one or the other.”
(Belhajj): An enormous -YAAARRRRPPP- sounds from Belhajj as he burps, his eyes widening in embarrassment as he puts his empty soup container down. "M-my apologies," he says quietly, a chuckle by way of additional apology. "I do not feel particularly charitable. The stone is my ward, my purpose," considering that, the large man folds his hands across his chest "It might be the right thing to do, but it is also the only thing." He muses, turning from the quieting flame to Halima with a sad smile. "I would be far diminished without the stone and the purpose it brings me. I suspect you and your words, your sharing of the mind is perhaps a similar song?" he half asks, half observes.
(Halima): “That’s true enough,” Halima says in agreement. “It’s hard to think of a world where I didn’t make use of words, mine or those of others, in some way or another.” She furrows her brow momentarily. “Quite an odd world indeed… but for now, I’ve perhaps shared enough words for the night. I’ll have more ready after a night’s rest, I’m sure.” She starts to stand from the table, giving Belhajj a polite nod. “It was good to speak with you, as always. I wish you luck in your future endeavors, charitable or not."
(GM): OOC: The scene fades to black.