|Not quite singin in the rain...|
The highlight of the Guardia Fairgounds, here there is a tall monument with a large bell hanging beneath it. Named after Queen Nadia, the XXXIV Queen of Guardia Kingdom, to commemorate the day that the future was saved by a young group of heroes during the Millenial Fair of 1000 AD. The inscription reads, "May our prayers for peace ring on for eternity..." To the south you can clearly see the entire fairground with the village of Truce in the far distance.
Cheshire sits on a bench, seeming to enjoy the pouring rain currently falling, drenching his clothes and the like. He looks up slightly, as one would when smelling a sweet scent on a clear summers day. His trademark grin widens slightly "Aah, the smell of sweet perfume, as if one was about to meet their doom". He thinks for a moment to himself on this, before muttering "Such a perfect day for it, too. Bright, and shiney, and fair, it would suprise me if one had such a care....". Where it came from, who knows.
Domo doesn't seem to be as a big fan of the rain as Cheshire appears to be. "...a poet in the rain? Well, this is rich." he stops his drudging and grumbling and stops in front of the well dressed man and crosses his arms. "Why you sitting there all wet? Doesn't it...bother you?" Awfully quiet fellow. If anyone was around, you probably wouldn't be able to hear him.
Cheshire looks up at the man before him "Bother me? Rain? Why should it ever? After all, it IS the grandest of weather". He repositions his cane across his lap, and sits back "What, may i ask, brings one such as you, a fighter it looks, judging by your general hue, to one such as me, a poet you called, where you stand in the rain as if in great awe?". He speaks plainly, the unnerving grin widening slightly.
Domo's eyebrow gives an...irritated quiver as he slowly unfolds his arms and drapes them back at his side laxly. "..well. It /is/ cold after all." as for the second question he's left speechless for a moment. "What brings me here? I don't know. Fate, perhaps? Well, that's what I /would/ say...if I believed in such a thing." he snorts lightly, the joints in his prostatic arm flashing white occaisionally as the rain reacts with the electricity inside it.
Cheshire's expression doesnt change in the least "That still does not answer my question of what brings one of such mirth to my attention. Since, as you claim, fate does not exist, there must be some other reason, i insist". He adjusts himself in his seat to relax more effectively, one hand on the silver head of his cane, one on the tip at the other end
"...hmp. You sure know how to work one's nerves, poet..." Domo shakes his head lightly to get some of the water out of it. "...for money. That's why I'm here." he takes a seat on the bench and gnashes his teeth together lightly. "So...some one who speaks so many rhymes must have a name, right? Might I ask yours?"
Cheshire doesn't even turn his head to follow Domo as he sits down. he continues to 'stare' where the man had been standing a moment ago "Alas, my name has been lost to time, but a nickname i guess would do just as fine. They call me Cheshire, a calico cat, a lover of things lost, and to know where their at". NOW he turns to 'look' at Domo "Who, pray tell, yould yourself be called? Something simple, dashing, or nothing at all?"
Domo perks an eyebrow slightly at the lack of eye-contact, just listening to his story and hmming softly with a scratch to his clean shaven chin. "...Cheshire? Interesting name.. Well, I'm Domo. Domo Iguri. The people at the pub call me a few other things though..." he chuckles softly.
Cheshire says, "What, may i ask, do those at the bar refer to you as, since it may take you far. After all, theres truth in every old tale. That is, if you know where to dig, and have the right pail"
"Evil Iguri...Bloody-Bladed Domo.. Things like that." he nudges his sword sheath with his robotic arm and gives the riddling Cheshire an unsettling grin. Domo's shivers a bit and grumbles after a moment of silence while the cold rain soaks into his back. "So, what do you do, poet?"
Cheshire stands, walking away "I do what all poets do. Seek out secrets, and find which are true. Pass on those that none would otherwise hear, ensure those lost remain so without fear". He takes a few more steps, and when next Domo blinks, he's... gone? How odd.... Domo squints. Well, he's sure Cheshire can add one more thing to his resume. Confusing the hell out of him.