The tank top she wore was really inadequate to protect her from the weather, but Semira wasn't in any state to notice. This far gone into trance, her dark brown eyes were focused on a different world, and her skin no longer pebbled into goosebumps, proving that she no longer felt the cold- even though she danced in the snow. To any watchers- not that there /were/ any, or there hadn't been when she picked this spot- it was also evident that she didn't notice the blood running down her arms and splashing in little drops onto the concrete with the sinuous movements of her hands in the air. Seeing the dance, one could almost hear the music she moved to in her head. And it was having its intended effect, although she wouldn't know it until she was done. The air already seemed a little fresher, the streets nearby less menacing, then they had when she started. The knife she'd used to carve the symbols into her arms lay discarded outside her circle on the concrete.

Mahonri had been roaming the streets... thankfully, a 'Ferrymen' replacement had arrived to take over for the 'jobs' he had been doing. Now he could just simply relax... and was, in a somewhat comical fashion. With all the snow and cold around - he wore surfer shorts and an oversived hawaiin t-shirt, and carried a surf board under his arm. This was only visible to the supernatural type though - just for the sheer fun of 'mind fucking' them.
He came across Semira now, and stopped to watch.

She finished her dance and lowered her arms to her sides, standing quiet for a moment with her eyes closed, checking her work. At last she opened them and looked around with a satisfied air. She saw Mahonri and let him see her see him ((! *hehe*)) but for the time being didn't otherwise acknowledge his presence with so much as a flicker of an eyelash. When she spotted him, though, he got the impression that she wasn't displeased. She walked out of the circle, scuffing a section of it open with her bare foot before stepping across the chalk line, and reached for a canvas backpack that sat next to the knife. She cleaned the knife with a cloth from it, then took out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and cleaned her arms, gritting her teeth. She bound the cuts up neatly with bandages and then pulled on socks, shoes and a flannel shirt. All that done, she looked at Mahonri. "Well, howdy, stranger..." she drawled, the words coming out oddly in her cultured british accent.

He smiled slightly. "Hi, again." He looked older than the last time she saw him... 24 or 25. Though if she read the book, she may have expected this.

Giving him a quick look up and down as she settled the pack on her shoulder, she then flashed him a brief grin. "Not exactly dressed for the weather, are you? It's abominably cold here... but I suppose you don't notice." Truth be told, she'd read the book, and then dismissed the experience, convincing herself that she'd never really met the strange young man that evening. After all, things had been rather... hectic. However, she was just as quick to accept that he /was/ real as she had been to dimiss him, and after having read that book she wondered if even half of it could be true. If it was, it certainly gave her some perspective on her own life.

"No... but then to most people I look like an eskimo," he laughed.

She laughed as well, and decided against satisfying her own curiosity in favor of not pestering him with questions. //I see we're finally developing tact, Semira...// She could almost hear her mentor's dry, loved-hated voice saying the words. "To each his own," she replied, and started off down an alley, cutting through to the street behind. She invited him to come with her, saying, "You may not need to get out of the cold, but I am freezing," with another grin, "as well as starving. I'm going to this club I know... you can come along, if you fancy."

"Okay," he grinned. "Say... do you know Irene Burke?"

The question gave her a moment's pause and she cast him a questioning look as they walked. "In passing... I mean, we do live in the same house, but she keeps to herself. ...Why? Do you know her?" //And does she know you?// She thought the coincidence odd, for a moment, but truthfully, how was she to know who Irene was friends with?

"I know her... and I'm sure that I'm just someone that 'exists' to her." he laughed. ~Though why I'm asking about her, I don't know.~ He shrugged. "No matter... nevermind... A friend of mine was asking about her," he lied.

A tiny frown line appeared between her brows for a moment until she too shrugged. "I wish I knew something to tell that... friend of yours. But Irene is one of those odd people. I think that even most of her friends don't know her at all. But I don't want to look at what she doesn't want to show me, so I leave her alone..." her voice trailed off as she was diverted, she'd been speaking in a half-babble anyway. "Here we are, then... The Lighthouse. Great service, cheap food, and no one looks at you twice..." she eyed his clothes and teased him a little, "although /that/ might disappoint you a bit from the looks of you."

"Not really," he laughed, and shifted to something a little more appropriate - t-shirt, jeans, and an overcoat. "If anyone looks at me too long, they get dizzy." He grinned.

"I'll say!" she replied as she nodded to the Gurahl bouncer and then led them to a table. "Ahhh.... Heating. It got damn cold out there once I stopped dancing."

"Heating is good... but then again, everything is 75 degrees to me." He grinned and followed her. "Hrm... maybe I could being a date here sometime." He laughed again. "Yet, who's gonna go out with a Dreamer with a Death taint?"

Mira raised an eyebrow at him, keeping it light, and smiled back. "Oh, I don't know... I'm sure that most Euthanatos don't have trouble getting dates or someone would've made a joke about it by now." She laughed, but lowered her voice as she said it. She didn't have anything against the deathmages, and anyhow it wouldn't do to offend one if any were in earshot.

"Perhaps," he laughed. "I'm been told I'm 'one sexy bitch' before... maybe I stand a chance." He laughed again, and made a few others laugh as well.

She'd covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed, and slowly she straightened up, shaking her head at him. "You Americans are so vulgar. I can't get used to it." Her eyes danced a little with mirth still, denying most of the severity of her words.

He chuckled. "Well, that's not the worst of it I fear... but I usually keep my jokes to visual gags, like the surfer attire in winter."

She smiled at him again. "Thank goodness. I'd like to think I'm past the age of blushing."

"Yeah, but you kinda look cute when ya blush." He smirked, but still laughed. "Heh, I need to visit my cousin in London... I think he's still staying with that Marchand woman..."

"You have a cousin in London?" she asked curiously. "Is this 'Marchand woman' a relative as well?"

"No... Victoria Marchand is the name I think... an Etherite. My cousin lives with her here ever since he first entered the Dreaming. The kid's a violin player... a rather famous one too. Ever heard of Cameron Blake?" (She may or may not have, Cam's fame would be 4 or 5 *sag*)

Semira looked at him with surprise. "You're just connected everywhere, aren't you now? I have heard of your cousin.... I wouldn't have guessed you were any relation, but then again..." She shrugged.

He smiled. "Well, he's got things made easy for him. I wish I could devote more time to my writing and art as he has his music."

"Why can't you? You seem to be at loose ends here, or do you always wander strange cities in outlandish clothing while on the job?" Her smile took any possible sting from the words. "And your writing is pretty good. I've suffered through worse yarns in my time, and believe me, I have heard a /lot/ of stories."

"I'm sure." He smiled. "Last I heard, Liyan and Michael were getting ready to take out Jelad. My presence need only be there to make sure the bozo doesn't escape." He shrugged. "After that... I think I'll come back and live here... much to the irritation of Irene, I'm sure," he grinned.

She only smiled at him with a little half-shrug, keeping her thoughts to herself. "What Irene thinks is her own business, though if you do annoy her as much as you seem to /think/ I have no doubt she'll let you know." Settling back comfortably in her seat, she looked up as a waitress approached their table. "Crowded tonight, isn't it?" she said to the woman, then looked at Ri. "You want anything?"

Ri looked around the club and sighed. "I'm too used to the Ground Zero."

The waitress gone, she tilted her head and gave him a curious look. "The Ground Zero?"

"It's... a place owned by some friends of my family. I believe it's mentioned in the book." he smiled a little. "The most detailed part I think, involved Blair and Rasha... and I needn't say any more."

She nodded. "No... you don't." Then she sighed and shook her head. "I'm still having trouble believing that you are the same as in that book. It's all so fantastic. In fact, until I saw you in the alley I had almost convinced myself that you didn't exist and my imagination had finally run away with me."

He lightly laughed. "Well, the version of me in the book is only one of many. I, however, am not the same. True, I am a Dreamwalker and the events are similar... but not exactly... in that book, there's a happy ending, right?  I still don't know if I see one of those or not."

Mira gave him a solemn look and smiled gently back. "For your sake, I hope so." Her voice was grave. Settling back she folded her arms, then frowned as she felt something there. Lowering her left arm below the level of the table to hide the bandages she pushed up her sleeve. Sure enough, they were splotched with patches of bright red. "Shiva!" she cursed quietly. "I must have gone deeper than I thought... I need to rewrap these. Will you excuse me a moment?" Rolling her sleeve back down, she took her backpack in hand and prepared to slide out of the booth.

"I... could heal it if you wanted me to." He suddenly ventured. "It may be easier... or not."

Relaxing back into the booth, she cast him a considering look. "No... I trust you to do it, and it would be a great help. I guess I didn't think about if you could. But I remember how you made that glove for me..." which reminded her she didn't have any on, and she yanked a pair out of her bag and put them on quickly. "So, and so. Should I hold out my arms or something?" Her lips quirked up in a little smile, inviting him to share her humor.

He chuckled. "Stand on your head and count to 100... it should be healed now," he smiled. "See? Quick and painless."

Making a face at him, she rolled her sleeve up again and unwrapped the bandage. Then she looked up with a broad grin. "Wonderful! My thanks. I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it, it's on the house." He grinned a little. He seemed to sigh some to then. "Heh, I go anywhere else and I get 'Balance' mumbo-jumbo thrown at me, Dreamlords and delnok trying to kill me, and an Alzan cat that's like to drive me insane... well, no, that cat is my mom posing as a furball.. heh. Its strange I come to a place like this and feel at ease."

She shrugged, a little. "No, not really. Sometimes you actually have to physically get away from it all. Any good shrink will tell you that even the most innocuous things have associations. So suppose that even when you think you're relaxed there you're really not. Nothing here reminds you of it, and you feel better. Not so strange, is it?" She raised an eyebrow at him, soliciting his opinion of her on-the-fly theory.

"You're probably right... and here too, I know none of the locals can do anything to me unless I let them." He laughed. "And I doubt I will ever allow them to. Technocrat interrogations are like scenes out of the Matrix." He then looked at the time. "Great... I need to jet. The Dawn's coming in the Waking soon and I'll blip out on ya. Better I leave now before then." He smiled and then handed her a card. "Here, its the place where I'm staying (the Ground Zero Lounge *sag*). Ever get bored enough... give me a call, the extention is on the back."

Taking the card, she glanced over it and then tucked it in her bag, smiling at him. "All right, maybe I will. Good luck, Mahonri," she added, using his name for the first time. "It's been... real."

He chuckled and started to fade. "Remember, Semira, reality is subjective." He was then completely gone.

((Done.))