Log:Sketching by Starlight

Sketching by Starlight
Parkour, Private Investigations, and God
Participants Max, Gisa	3 April, 2017 Talking at the park, at night.
Location Frog Haven Pond
The stars have come out, and there are a few night-migrating geese honking by, distantly, in the sky and a few down along the edge of the pond. Gisa is nowhere near them. Instead, wearing a long, practical black wool coat, sitting on a stump, she sits by another part of the pond's edge. She holds a palm-sized book open in her hands, and rocks rhythmically back and forth, a low sussurus of prayer timed to the rocking. When in doubt, or bored, or lonely: pray. Perhaps she came out here to be alone with the pond and the frogs and the geese and HaShem. Perhaps she has a timer in her golem head, and has to sit down and pray at regular intervals. Perhaps none of the above. So: dark-skinned grey clay woman in a black trenchcoat, dark jeans, and boots, slowly rocking back and forth in the dark, muttering in a strange language, with no eyes, but little flames flickering in dark eyepits, and a glowing sigil on her forehead. Autumns should pay her to go do this while they sit nearby. Max doesn't sleep much so she has a lot of time on her hands. Especially now since the incident at the Crossroads Cafe had left her unable to do a lot of the activities that she enjoyed and took up a bit of her time. So, she's wandering around the park late at night, enjoying a joint to herself. The young woman is dressed casually, wearing a hoodie, leggings, and sneakers, with her hair worn down in curls. Even though they're messy, she makes the look work. Along her shoulders a messenger bag is carried, which the top is open to reveal a blank canvas that was too big to fully fit in. As she wanders along, she can't help but notice another figure in the distance. Curious, she starts to draw closer and when she realizes that it's one of the Lost, her interest grows even more. "Nice night out," she says in a way of greeting, not wanting to sneak up on her. A friendly smile rests on her lips as she comes to a stop a few yards away. She doesn't respond immediately: Gisa's current prayer winds to a close, and her hands close around the small book. It's just large enough that her hands can't fully close around it, a small siddurim or prayer book perhaps. That would, uh, be the logical conclusion, anyway, considering she was just praying, or seemed to be. Her rocking stops, and she becomes almost preternaturally still. "It is," Gisa agrees, her voice a low, tectonic rumbling, as if one could hear the plates of the earth shifting. There's a smell around her of ozone and petrichor -- her Dawn mantle is subtle, but always present -- and the distant sound of lava bubbling. The change states of the earth. "I enjoy to pray here. Shalom." "Oh! I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Max says as way of apology as she wanders just a bit closer to the golem. Those bright blue eyes of hers study Gisa for a moment, cautious but curious. It's in the middle of the night, who wouldn't be a bit wary about running into a stranger? "Mind if I chill in the area with you? This place has a great view and I was going to do some doodling," she explains, that friendly expression lingering on her face. The enchanted mortal moves just a bit closer to the shore of the pond, making sure she didn't get close enough that her shoes would be too muddy. "No. It is impossible to interrupt me at praying." Whatever that means. Gisa carefully tucks her siddur into her pocket, patting said pocket gently as if to assure herself that yes, that little book is right there, safe in her pocket. "You are welcome to join me." She leans forward slightly, the shin on her forehead glowing a little more brightly, the flames in her eyepits sparking as she seems to focus in on Max a little more. Perhaps trying to place her face. It's dark, after all. "I am Gisa Cohen." "Nice to meet you, Gisa. I'm Max," she offers in return, eyes flitting briefly to the sigil on the golem's forehead. Finding a little log nearby, the mortal sits herself down, making sure to do so carefully. One familiar with body language might notice such and make assumptions that it's due to some injury. Once she's settled down on the log, she stretches her long legs out in front of her. The bag is set down by her side before she pulls the canvas out. A pencil is then produced from the pouch of her hoodie and she turns her gaze up to the night sky. "Feel free not to answer if this is a personal question... When you pray, do you usually pray about something specific or just general type things like good health and whatnot?" "Max." The name is repeated as though Gisa is weighing the impact that the Enchanted's name will have on Jewish law, or something else of equal import to her. The air around her shimmers, the scent of magma hitting the air and becoming lava whorls up around her briefly and disperses. "Are you injured, Max?" There is a subtle urgency in that request, perhaps a bit of worry. It's tough to tell -- goylomim are not exactly known for their emotiveness. But she moves on from that when Max does, folding her hands together on her wool-covered lap; her hands clink-clink against one another like someone is stacking teacups. "I pray about everything. Jews have prayers for nearly everything, and for what we do not have a certain prayer for, there are ... encompassing prayers." The shin on her forehead glows slowly but steadily more brightly as she speaks. "But also I talk to HaShem, about everything." Her shoulders rise and fall like a glacier rising from the water and lowering again. "What do you pray about, Max?" At the first question, Max gives a nod of her head as an initial response. The tip of the pencil rests on the canvas for a moment before her hand starts to move fluidly as she starts to lightly sketch. A brief glance is given to Gisa with a faint smirk tugging at the edge of her lips. "Tried to play the hero at the Crossroads Cafe and got shot. Hurts, but I'm healing," she replies with a reassuring tone. At the second question, the mortal returns her attention to the canvas in her lap as she continues her drawing. "I don't pray. I'm not really the religious type. Even if I believed in some sort of higher power I don't have reason to pray to them," she replies, shrugging her shoulders. "Nothing against any sort of religion, mind you... Just not my thing." A frown, first, and that frown takes a good long while to resolve itself. Her forehead wrinkles up, clay folding on itself, and the corners of her mouth slowly turn down. Finally, Gisa answers, "I would like it if I could make that better for you. I am glad you are not hurt worse. To be shot is no small thing." She leans forward, clearly -- though it's impossible to tell exactly where she's looking -- examining Max all the more closely. In case she might break in half and require immediate assistance that Gisa cannot supply. Max's answer about prayer has Gisa nodding, though, and her features relax from that frown. "That is very common in Vermont." As if she's observing some sort of natural phenomenon. And here we have the New England Artistic Atheist in her native habitat... "I do not take offense." Stated as if it's plain and evident fact. Why would she? "Good that you don't take offense. More religious people should be like that and just let people believe in what they want," Max replies with a faint chuckle. She gives the golem a quick but curious glance before her attention is directed back to the canvas in her lap. A bit of an easy-going smile lingers on her lips as she continues chatting with Gisa. Even if she isn't looking at her, she's still paying attention. "So, if you're not a nurse or a doctor or something that can help me out, what is it that you do?" she wonders. There's a pause before she adds, "Either for work or for fun." More of that golematic thoughtfulness, or perhaps it just takes longer for thoughts to form in her brain, and Gisa answers, "Well. It is important in my community to have all kinds of people. We allow for those who do not believe, or study Torah, and the community requires them." Her shoulders rise and fall again, like a mountain range thrust up and wearing down over time. "But. Even so. Why would your belief in HaShem or not have any bearing on my prayer?" The idea seems to totally baffle her. Then the conversational track changes, and she follows along as easily as a rock rolling down a hill. Sure, we're going this way now! "I am a laborer." No shame in her statement: someone has to stack boxes on shelves, pick things up, put them down. "I read. I walk. I listen." A slow nod toward Max. "You?" As Gisa speaks of her job, Max takes a glance her way. She gives the other woman a once over, then nods a little as if to say 'that makes sense'. "Whenever I'm in need of money, I find stuff out for people," she replies, pausing briefly to erase something on the canvas. "I like to think that I'm pretty good at it," she says with a chuckle and a playful grin is cast Gisa's way. "As for fun, I like doing art occasionally. Mostly though, I like running. Specifically parkour. I'm not exactly allowed to it while I heal up, though. So, I'm giving some of my lesser hobbies a bit of time to shine." "Like a researcher?" It's often difficult to tell exactly where Gisa is looking, especially in the dark, on account of that whole 'lack of actual eyes' thing that she's got going on. However, when one is the focus of her singular attention, it's unmistakeable: the flickering lights in her eyepits burn more steadily, her expression animates in a hundred tiny ways that can only be seen from up close, like examining the faults in handmade ceramic or the striations in sandstone. Her eyebrows lift just a little bit, her forehead wrinkles slightly, and she tips her head slowly back and forth. Her attention remains wholly on Max now, and she asks, "What is parkour?" "Not exactly a researcher. More like a private detective or investigator. Though, I don't exactly have an official license or office or anything. And I don't go looking for information on cheating spouses or whatever. That stuff is boring to look into," Max replies with a shake of her head. Then she takes a look around, studying the darkened environment around them. Normally when people asked her what parkour was she'd just show them. "Hmm. Okay," she starts after a few moments, pointing at some trees in the distance. "Let's say I wanted to get from here to there as quickly as possible. A normal person would run around all those rocks and logs in the way or find a safe path around. Parkour is when you just go over the obstacles, getting yourself from point A to B as quickly and creatively as possible," she explains with a grin, looking back to Gisa. "And anyway, you cannot make recompense." As if that should determine why Max would look into cheating spouses? Or is she talking about being a PI without a license? Sometimes Elementals just say things and they only connect to the conversation on some Elemental level that only they understand. She rolls onward, though not literally. She's still sitting on her stump. "Ah! Yes. They do this in Jerusalem. There is a group that is both Jewish and Arab Israelis. You see them in Qatamon. My friend Batya did this thing. I did not know the word in English."