One of the things that goylomim are good at is finding people. Gisa asks around, asks around more, and finally finds someone who saw Lulu heading in this particular direction. And then it's a matter of following the trail: parsley in the butter, footprints on the ground. Or, when all else fails, just walking the roads until she finds a Lulu. The golem isn't quiet per se, but she isn't crashing through the underbrush, either. On a scale of T-Rex to Clever Girl, Gisa ranks somewhere around 'first raptor who wants to be seen' in terms of foliage-rustling.
The fluffy headed little moth looksup about when Gisa gets within visual range or sounds like she is. The layer-dressed Autumn lifts a long fingered pale hand adn flutters it ina semblance of a wave. "Hello, hello friend Gisa!" She says amiably despite her damp slightly bedraggled state. "Did you know, that sometimes when the mills not going, the otters will come by on the hunt? Isn't that neat?" She wonders, "I was hoping since it was summer I would see some little ones. Adorable baby things you know, all fluffy. But no luck the last few days. How are you?" She wonders alloud.
In the cool, Gisa's wearing her long black peacoat again, her hands in her pockets. It's a comfortable thing, walking through the world, her feet on the earth, for the old Earthbones (who doesn't look her ninety years back). "Hello, friend Lulu," answers the golem, winding her way up toward the mothfriend. "I came to find you, to, ah, I think the phrase is 'to look in on you,' because you were hurt before. Are you well?" She clambers up, reaching into the bag across her body to bring out a thermos and offer it over. Two guesses on whether there's chicken soup in it, first don't count. "I like otters. I have not seen them in many years." Her head tips back and forth. "I am well, actually."
Lulu nods, "Yes, fine. A few days of itching really and some scabs but otherwise just peachy. Thank you. It probably would've been worse if people weren't there." She admits with a side to side motion of her head and a otherwise blissful little smile. She reaches up to take the thermos with a thankful smile but without any hesitation it all to open it and sniff it. "Mmm, smells great. Is it for me?" Because someone would give her something that wasn't. She doesn't assume though. She gestures for Gisa to join her on the edge of the little dock that creaks softly as her weight shifts on it. "That's good. I am sorry I've been absent from the freehold lately. But I got caught up in a full moon."
"Alonso and Caim were very impressive," agrees Gisa, finding a place to settle on that dock. Her solidity is rather more considerable than Lulu's, and the dock complains about it a little. "I am glad that you are doing better. Those were not very kind insects." Because she does know some kind insects. Exhibit A, for one. "It is for you," she agrees. "I made the matzah balls smaller, to fit in the thermos. It is not best that way, but it does not fit in the thermos if not." She pulls out a small container with a travel silverware kit in it with orange handles, and passes it over. "It's okay. Things are either quiet or very much not quiet, depending on who you ask." Her fiery eyes cast this way and that, looking for any company, even so much as a rabbit. You never know, after all, where there may be Soundless. But it is the woods, and they are quiet, so far as she can tell.
Lulu says, “Mothballs? This is Mothball soup?" She did misunderstand yes. She sniffs it and takes a tenative sip and licks her lips. "Tastes like chicken." Of course it does. However Lulu seems to approve of Gisa's 'Moth Ball Soup'. She takes another sip of it chewing on some of the delicious morsels. She is quiet for a time as if perfectly fine with long awkward silences. It's not awkward for her at all. She does look a little sheepish though when Gisa hands over the silverware and she laughs a bit. "I'm not really used to eatin' like people do at diners." At home, moths use fingers. "It's been quiet for me. Usually I dream more but not lately. I think there's something blocking my aura, a miasma of dark energies just blocking the flow of my spiritual oneness."”
The golem's eyes snap and flare with amusement, as if someone had replaced her flaming eyes briefly with bits of a sparkler, and then steady again, the shin on her forehead steadying as well. "Mat-zah," Gisa says more clearly. "Matzah meal made into small balls, well, usually big ones but whatever, and then chicken broth with chicken bits and some veggies. Commonly called 'Jewish penicillin.'" She absently wiggles her toes out the bottom of the shoes that have none, enjoying the cool air and the damp earth still clinging to the bottoms of her ceramic feet. The silverware gets tucked away again. "It is okay. I am used to traveling, so I carry so much with me. It is strange for me to put my things down and leave them." Her shoulders roll, a tectonic sort of gesture. "Hmm. What do you dream about?" Gisa doesn't seem like she actually doubts Lulu's spiritual oneness. After all, she believes that when she sleeps, her soul takes a jaunt to Mount Sinai and hangs out with God, so who is she to judge?
Lulu's feathery lashes drop and she looks back at the thermos and takes another drink of it before turning and offering it back. Yes, it was brought for her but Lulu will at least share. It is a chilly spring morning after all. "Matzah. Hmm, it's very good. I usually only get takeout, you know, whatever's cheap on GrubBub or Fuber. "I forget sometimes the things that I keep, or take, or find, or leave or lend, or borrow.. Things are hard for me to think about. I'm glad that not everything's like that though. Because then there'd be piles of socks everywhere." As usual, Lulu's train of thought drifts about tagged on whims. The airy little Luna moth hmm's softly for a moment. "What the moon wants me to dream about. People in trouble, people who are happy, the past.. the future. The present even sometimes. I don't get to pick what or when either." She admits, "But it's always interesting. I can't say that I always enjoy it but .. Everyone has nightmares. Even if they're someone elses."
To be polite, at least, Gisa takes back her own soup and takes a sip of it. "It kept warm very well," Gisa chuffs, pleased with herself and her equipment. Elementals feel a kinship with Things that do their jobs well, after all. "I almost never order takeout. I don't know if it's kosher, and here, not very many kosher restaurants." Another one of her big shrugs, she doesn't seem too bothered by it. A thoughtful nod at the idea of socks everywhere. "But then you could always find your socks, if they were everywhere," Gisa points out. Then she's quiet, listening to Lulu talk about her dreams. "And they've gone away? Do you think someone is interfering with your dreams?" A serious question.
Lulu takes the thermos back when it's offered and takes another drink, popping one of the little dumplings into her mouth to hew on it almost throughtfully though she seems just as pleased as before with the taste. "Kosher, that's uhm. That's the specialy prepared food stuff right, that stuff that wont pollute your soul? I remember asking the Deli owner in San Francisco, his wife was very nice and told me but I don't remember it so well. Just that they had the best cabbage rolls." She muses to herself. Then grins about the idea, "Well, you'd be able to find -a- sock anywhere, most people wouldn't be happy with it but the obsession with same socks is beyond me. It's so limiting. Plus I think if I want to be close to other people that I should walk in their socks, not shoes.
The dream question though draws her lips into a thin line and a breeze kicks up tiny whisps of moth dust that seem to hover in the humid air. "No. No, I know how to defend my dreams. In my dreams I fly. No one can harm me." She says seriously. Dreams are something the little Moth knows. "But I think that there's something I need to focus on. but I don't know what and she's not giving me any hints." She gestures up the direction of the moon's most recent location with animated frustration.
"I don't know about 'polluting my soul,' but it is food that complies with kashrut, Jewish dietary laws." Gisa folds her hands onto her lap, her ceramic fingertips clicking together as she does so. "Maybe that's a way to explain it to someone who needs explaining. I don't know. It's just how I grew up eating." Her flame eyes flicker to the side, and she chuckles just a little and very softly at the idea of just finding socks everywhere. "I suppose so." Then more quiet. "Have you thought maybe someone else could help you focus, if you are not right now?"
Lulu nods thoughtfully. "I admit, I'm pretty awful at remembering and when I do it's how I associated things most often not what actually happened." Her brows knit and she looks lost but apologetic. "I forget things as much as I forget stuff. Will you tell me anyway? I may not remmeber tomorrow but I will know for today and that's important to me. If you want to I mean, about eating when you were young, or what Kosher is." For not understanding she certainly seems to be warmed and enjoying the thermos of soup. She's almost curling about it without realizing it. "Help me focus? Someone? I don't know. I only really focus when I'm dancing or looking at the tapestry, nibbling on the fibers."
She looks surprised for a moment, as if she hadn't quite connected what Lulu was saying with a request for information beyond 'hey is that some weird thing you do'. In Vermont, she probably gets some variation on 'is that some weird thing you do' pretty much every day. "Oh. Well, I don't eat carrion-eaters, or anything that hasn't got split hooves and also chew its cud, or anything from the ocean that does not have fins or scales. So no oysters, and no shark -- it hasn't got scales -- but yes to salmon. No rabbit, but yes deer. No pork, yes lamb. Also it should be killed properly, which is a whole other thing. And I do not eat meat products and milk products together, or share the dishes that made them. Among other rules." Gisa rolls her shoulders gently. "If you come to eat at my house, I have orange dishes for meat, and blue for milk. Makes it easy. And that is just how I grew up. Everyone has food rules." She wrinkles up her forehead. "Tapestry?" Maybe she doesn't know that word, or know it in context.
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