Welcome to Gaia! ::

The night air was cool with the leading edge of fall, and some of the park leaves had begin to change color, subtle flashes of red and gold appearing on leaves as though they had been paint splattered by a celestial decorator. The outdoor concert stage was set up, rows of folding chairs laid out and lit by lamps spiked into the ground. A few signs set up proclaimed an concert to come later in the evening, and tables suggested a few minor refreshments for the audience. On the stage, an lone figure stood, his violin case discarded off to one side, lid open and begging, as though asking for coins. The man himself, moderate in height, grey, lank and threadbare only made the begging image more profound. He seemed faintly starved, cut out of sharp angles that all peiced together into a sort of awkward grace.
His clothing looked worn and out of date, lace cuffs protruding from a threadbare jacket, an light ruff spilling over an equaly age battered waistcoat, but the notes he coaxed from the tired violin....
Those were decadant and rich. He tickled notes out of the strings with a light delicate touch of the bow, as though he were courting a long time lover teasingly, occasionaly drawing it across with enough passion to earn an passionate gasp of music from the instrument before returning to coaxing and teasing, adjusting frets and listening.

The trees stired faintly with a revelation of living things, bats nestled in the branches at this surprisingly early hour, opening their allert eyes to observe the comings and goings of the park, and this strange woman who attracted their attention so intently. LIke the other players here there was something more to them than the obvious, though were they more clearly visible, several of them were obviously of abnormal size.

Their slight movment evoked more reaction from the man on the stage than the approach of a beautiful woman, from a man who had long ago learned to regard the lovely with the caution with which one approaches and observes an large cat. With great respect and careful distance. His notes slowed slightly, and his eyes opened, as orange as a perfect halloween moon.
After the note he was playing faded, he lowered the violin, who's chin rest was polished roughly by long service, and half bowed politely, his eyes not leaving the new arrival.

"Good evening. We're not scheduled for another half an hour, so the refreshment's aren't ready I'm afraid. Please pardon my practice."

"It's a free concert, actually, though they're accepting donations for charity." He noted, gesturing faintly with his bow toward the sign. "So feel free to enjoy yourself and deside afterward. I'm sure they'll appreciate anything they can get." He shook his head faintly, though clearly flattered at her praise. "I'm no artist, merely a parot. A very good mimic of works real artists have made. Though I am pleased to make your aquaintence. Miss Donna, Aconite." A more formal bow at this, hard to tell if it's a gesture born of habit or the stage. "My name is Erik Nihls."

"Bella then. Well then you can consider the concert a charity for you, for actually showing up." He joked, sitting down at the edge of the stage slowly, as though his boney joints might be somewhat reluctant. Perhaps small wonder to a man who was half life half death.
"True, I agree that they did, and they gain a particular immortality for it, but mucicians themselves, parots, as you will, gain only immortality if they find something in that music and make it their own. If they can....for lack of a better word, give it something of themselves. I've never been able to do that. Not to my own satisfaction." He shook his head again, then smiled in amusement. "Is he now? That must be quite an aquisition. Cat's don't like to admit that they feel ruffled, in my experience."

"It is a strange thing." He agreed, tilting his head in surprised interest as he saw the orb in her hands. It was the third he'd ever seen, though it's capacity for movement still surprised him. "I've seen them before..." he noted, sliding off the stage with a slight thump of his feet hitting earth. "It just arrived on it's own?" He asked, taking a step or two forward to look.

"I...have actually." he noted, after a pause. As though he were carefuly weighing the vulnerability of admitting to this. "I've seen two actually. One appeared after a young man I met was apparently hit by a car...the other. Hm." He fumbled over how to describe it. "Came to an old man who found it highly reminicent of the youth and dreams he can't keep up with anymore. I think if...that example is correct though you might find they contain something a mite more tangable than a whisp of cheese cloth to pass for ectoplasm."
There was more than a touch of cynisism in his voice, though not unbalanced by a sense that he did beleive that such things were possible, merely heavily veiled in chicanery. "You'll definitely know it when it's ready to do more than irritate the cat."

Nihls followed her gaze upward to the moon, which illuminated both their faces. Her's pale like ivory, his an cooler, greyer cast, as though some important element to life had been drawn out of him some countless age ago, or as though he had been made out of weary dust, an lackluster, corpse like coloration that made his startling eyes look that much more intensive.
"It's an beautiful night." He agreed. "Though I admit I would be rather disquieted to capture the attention of a Goddess. I've never found it particularly wise to draw the interest of the very powerful."

"Well, blame it on my long years dealing with people in positions of power when I say I find myself subscribing somewhat to the Greek's theory on gods as being tempermental, dangerous individuals." He admitted, with a wry smile, blinking as the orb bumped against his shoe. "...And Hello to you." He noted to it, reaching over to pick it up delicately, if it didn't roll away, as Bella approached. "I'm afraid Quinlan is at home for the evening, as he's not fond of bats."