Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dante’s sharp ears picked up the sound of someone enjoying a meal even before the scent of blood reached his nose. Ah. A fellow ‘giet. He had been wandering for quite some time, on this particular jaunt, without coming across anyone. Now, he had finally found someone. He could only hope they would make for a pleasant diversion from his rather solitary travels.

As he peered past some underbrush and out into the clearing, he paused.

Well, well. This lady was a sight to behold, indeed. She had a rare caliber of beauty, even as she tore into her meal. Such luxurious black fur with even darker rosettes. Such lovely orange accents. Dante was not merely impressed. He was intrigued. This was a lady that he wanted to know better. Someone he hoped he could share more than a few passing words with. Perhaps he would linger a little longer in this area than he had originally intended.

With plans and possibilities forming in his mind, Dante stepped out into the clearing with all of the grace and pride and charm that he could muster, which, to be perfectly honest, was quite a considerable amount. Certainly more than most males could ever hope to achieve.

“Greetings, milady,” he said, “I hate to intrude upon your meal, but I’m afraid that I could not help myself. Tell me, do you live near here?”

Dante was admittedly bemused. He had never had a lady react to him quite like that before. It was…a little disheartening, but at the same time, it also presented a challenge to him. Someone who did not fall at his feet or succumb only too willingly to his flirtatious whims. A rare beauty, indeed.

“You must forgive my manner of speech,” he said, “I’m afraid that it is a byproduct of my profession that I am unable to rid myself of, though to please a lady such as yourself, I would be willing to try.” He bowed his head slightly. “I am Dante, poet and minstrel by trade, wander and romantic by heart. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Might I have the honor of your name?”

“More’s the pity,” said Dante as he did, indeed, start following her. “Because you are quite worthy as a subject for poems.”

It truly was a pity, he thought, and he suspected that it would be an even greater challenge than he had anticipated to get to know her, if she was not fond or even tolerant of two such large parts of who he was. Still, as he watched her graceful, sinuous movements and considered her brusque words, he knew that the effort would surely be worth it.

“Samhain,” he said, testing the word, rolling it around in his mouth, making it sound decadent. “That is a lovely name.”

At her confession, Dante sobered slightly. The lady might be brash, but that did not mean that she could not feel pain. In fact, in his experience, anger often served as a mask for suffering. If there was any correlation between the two, then Samhain had definitely had more than her share of sorrows.

“I am sorry to hear that,” he said. “My mother did not, as you say, ‘stick around,’ either.” Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, or perhaps because he could not help but to flirt, he added, “Obviously your mother did not know what a treasure she was missing out on.”

“I am sure that you have,” Dante said with a sad smile. This lady did not seem the type to be easily defeated, by life or any ‘giet in it. Still, “But I think we all get lonely once in a while, no matter how well we do on our own.”

He knew he did. That was part of what drove him back to civilization time and again. More than his need to share his poetry and songs with others, more than his habitual flirting, Dante simply wanted some company, however fleeting it may be. The knowledge that he was not alone in the world. The warmth and sounds of other ‘giet nearby. The simple pleasure of sharing a joke or a meal with others. Just a little company to stave off the deafening silence of solitude. A little light to ward off the darkness.

That was all he wanted.

That was all he needed.

Or perhaps he, too, was fooling himself. Perhaps what Dante really needed was more than fleeting interactions with society. Perhaps he needed a place to call home.

“If someone is forever finding you, then you must be a very lucky ‘giet,” he countered, then allowed her to linger in her thoughts.

Aha! What was that? That was acceptance, that was! She had finally resigned herself to his company. Pleased, Dante grinned, his tail twining sinuously behind him.

“I was born in the mountains,” he said, “and I lived there for much of my young life, even after my mother abandoned me. But I must confess that as soon as I was able, I took to wandering the world; for, though the mountains may have bred me, they were not truly my home.” Not his favorite topic, but if she was asking, he was willing to talk about it anyway.

“But what of you, Samhain? Do you have a place to call home?”

“Dangerous?” Dante wondered aloud. “I admit that I do wander quite a bit, but I do not see the danger in becoming fond of a place or staying more than one night. Perhaps you could explain, dear lady?”

In truth, he was puzzled. What danger was there in attachment to a place? Unless…it was not about a place, but its people? Hmm… Just what darkness haunted this lady?