Ever since DaeKyun had massaged her fingers, Ella had been convinced that she ought to pick up a similar practice to alleviate its stiffness. The scars about her right hand had definitely been healing nicely since the attack, but there were still mental scars that would take forever to close up, if ever. What she needed now was something to either help relax her muscles, or help use up her time in a peaceful manner . . . Piano wasn’t as passive an art as some thought. Like any other instrument, it could cause back problems, sore bottoms, cramped hands, and aching palms. Something peaceful, something that could help alleviate her usual stiffness . . . Elarinya had heard of such things as yoga before, and this was why she was outside today, a bright morning that was cloudless and not too hot yet.

Yes, a shady spot in the park . . . Now how did yoga go? Or was it meditation? Curses, she always mixed them up somehow. Ella frowned a bit, tapping her temple idly in thought as she sat cross-legged beneath a tree, her right hand curled slightly in her lap. Perhaps she should have brought a book instead if this was how her memory was going to act!

The sun was rising nice and slow and Seven couldn’t imagine anything more enjoyable than taking a stroll through the fresh bright air. His would-be curls were slicked back with water and by the time the sun had risen fully dark brown ringlets would be all over the place. It was an annoyance to not be neat and tidy at all times, but going out into the sun.. well… nothing was better. His mind was blank, his mouth a soft line of a vague smile. A girl was not that far away from him and it took a few minutes to decided, but eventually Seven strolled up to her and bowed. “Good morning.”

“Hmm?” She blinked at the young boy, surprised about several things at once: one, that the was well dressed; two, that he was bowing at all. It wasn’t often you saw such . . . upright creatures about! Oh, when was the last time she had found herself in the regalia of an upper-class cat? Not since her last stay at the Master’s, oh Lord . . . It was so refreshing to see even someone so young still retain his manners – and a well-kempt dress code! “Oh, er, good morn,” Ella replied with a dip of her head, not able to curtsy in return since she was on the ground, and gave a little smile. “Enjoying the sunlight too? It’s such a lovely morning, and the pollen swell is not as bad anymore.” Subtly as she could, she turned her hand so that most of the healing scars were not as viewable.

He listened attentively to what she had to say and then frowned just a bit. She was sitting, he was standing, it wasn’t proper for him to be lurking over her the way he was, her neck could easily get stiff staring up at him from the ground. With an elegant sigh he backed up several paces and lowered himself to the ground as fluidly and gently as he could. If these clothes got mussed up he’d probably cry. Living on the streets and keeping impeccably clean wasn’t exactly easy. “Yes, it’s pleasant out and I find this to be the quietest time for me to go for an invigorating stroll.” He had no knowledge of the pollen swell, so he just ignored that comment.

Huh, and he spoke like he had higher breeding as well! She might not have understood what The Master had said, but his voice had that rich sort of quality that made one want to listen to him when he spoke: like a sort of edge to it that suggest he was not from Japan, but nothing terribly distracting; in fact, it enhanced the quality of his speech somehow. While this was not what Ella heard in the youngster’s voice, his chosen words brought back vague déjà vu, and it made her smile even more just to remember him fondly, even if it was done so in a roundabout way. “Invigorating, yes, and perhaps an overheated one as well,” she replied. “’Tis why I stay in the shade. I tend to burn more than I do tan, unlike the rest of the cats that live outside . . . Ah, forgive me. I am Elarinya,” she added, extending a hand to shake as a substitute again for her inability to bow or curtsy – and this was how men of proper stature did it, yes?

Sadly she realized that she had instinctively extended her right hand, docked her ears in embarrassment as the dappled shadows tinted her scarred flesh, and quickly switched to her left, cursing herself for the blunder.

Seven saw the quick switch, but he had already held out his right hand and he reached for it gently, pulling it to him. His green eyes were calm and on her eyes and he bent down and gave a very light kiss to the top of her hand, “I’m.. charmed, Miss Elarinya to make your acquaintance.” He couldn’t tell, but he thought that she had been trying to hide the hand from him. Skimming it briefly he saw angry red skin that seemed like it was trying to heal. “I’ve the curse of freckles, if I tan too deeply they pop up all over. I suppose, being a boy, I’m not supposed to have vanities like that…” Shrugging he gave an open smile, something that was a rarity for him, “I’m sure a lady such as yourself won’t hold it against me.”

“Well, ah . . .” First off, it was needed to be said that Ella had no experience with how to deal with children. Truly they were as varied as adults: in the case of Emily, her usual charge, she was an overgrown babe with the ability to speak and a habit of wandering off at a moment’s notice for something as simple as a butterfly fluttering by, and poor Ella was incapable of reigning her in for any long length of time. Here she was thinking that all children needed to be given a great degree of attention and rule-setting, and now here sat this maybe ten year old boy kissing her hand like it was nothing. Guess chivalry wasn’t dead after all? Though really, who wanted to talk about – “Vanities are not something I’m too acquainted with,” Ella lied; she was quite self-conscious of her appearance, sheltered cat or not. Perhaps it was a woman thing bred in them all.

“If it makes you feel any better, freckles can be quite endearing,” she went on to say, wanting to move away from her hand, and gave the boy another sort-of smile as she attempted to slide her right hand subtly out of his. “Perhaps that is the bias of my sex, but I think so. There is a little girl I know who wishes she had freckles, for instance.” Then again, Emily wanted anything and everything that was deemed remotely cute.

Carefully he let go of her hand, not really seeing anything wrong with the hand at all, but most females would probably be having a hissy fit if anything even remotely went “wrong” in their appearance. He stared down at her left hand quietly and considered going and finding one of the pairs of soft calfskin gloves that he had seen in one of the shop windows. It’d be irritating to get the money around for them, but the foolish femine things were soft and thin without being flimsy. Perhaps she would like them or perhaps she would find them to be an insult. Women were tough… and he had no interest in them beyond friendship. “I suppose so… but Is it not true that most men wish to make themselves and manly and big as possible?” Not that he wanted that, it was just the considered norm… well… Seven didn’t want to be a female either.

Elarinya nodded slightly. “Most yes.” This was not counting the group of very effeminate men that did not like the opposite sex, but this was hardly the thing to talk to a young boy about – especially not when he had at least some concern about his appearance. “I think it is a peer pressure deal more than anything else. Not every male is made to be a great athlete, just as not every girl is graceful and inclined to do such feminine things as dancing. There is too much variety in the world to think in black and white terms like that, I think.” As she spoke, she was glad to retrieve her hand and hide it for the rest of the conversation, however long that might be; the boy had either enough sense not to pursue it or was no longer interested – either way, she was content to keep the topics away from herself.

Again, as was his nature, Seven listened quietly to what she had to say. His long brown tail twitched lazily from time to time and his ears were perched forward in keen interest. She was pleasant to talk to, intelligent and interested in what he had to say. They differed in views though and he cleared his throat lightly when she was done, “Oh I don’t know about that Miss Elarinya. I think that in the most elemental sense women are entirely earthy graceful feminine creatures and men are more rough and tough. Trimmings and trappings change from person to person, but when stripped to the bone I’d say we’re all quite a bit alike, you know?”

A point, yes. She tilted her head slightly, marveling at the word choice of one so young, and chuckled. “Touché, little one, if I may call you so. In the spectrum of things, men are inclined to be taller, thicker, and stronger yes, and the women thinner and slender; genetically speaking you are correct. Yet my days outside have shown me that even so, people do fight the nature of things. The blind learn to write against all odds, a well-muscled woman defeats a well-muscled man, a man can sing in a great falsetto and be mistaken a woman without closer inspection, and a woman can be the furthest thing from ethereal and benevolent, swearing like the coarsest man without shame. All things are open to us: our only true constant is what we are born as, be it male or female.”

His grin was quick, here and then gone in a flash, but still it had been there. The visuals her words had given him were a bit unpleasant or enough to make him want to chuckle. Seven honestly would love to meet a woman that swore like a sailor and a man that dressed like a woman. Surely such a thing he’d never seen in his lifetime, but hey… Who was he to argue with her if she had met such people. Elarinya seemed like too much of a lady to be going around where “those people” were and a bit of snobbery was the reason behind his tipped up nose, “I suppose so.. but some of those things would be almost a scary sight to see and I bet in some way shape or form their behavior makes them outcasts from others that are more … well “normal.””

“Ah, but normal is a controversial topic. Some say normal should be reserved for the settings on machines,” Ella pointed out, “and not living creatures. I once thought it was normal for all cats to come from good homes and better backgrounds, but a mere week was all it took for me to understand that this was not so. I thought it was normal for a woman to be her husband’s greatest and most treasured supporter, but I have heard of same-sex couples doing equally well if not better, and of women who are independent enough to not need a partner at all!” Oh, the thought had startled her indeed when she had first heard it; it had almost been disconcerting even. She gave a small smile and shook her head slightly. “Reality has an odd way of turning what you think is normal upside-down.”

The conversation was getting a bit deeper than Seven could manage on his own, it was hard enough living on the streets, but now he was having a philosophical discussion about life with a near stranger. One ear went back as he chewed at his lower lip a bit, a bad habit, and tried to decide what would be the smoothest answer and most appropriate. Finally, after a minute or two of silence beyond the singings of birds and the occasional metallic purr of cars he decided what to say, “I suppose that must be true and I’ve just not seen it for myself. What was supposed to be impossible is possible, perhaps that’s just a secret of life or a key to making life interesting?” He had no idea, his goal was to have a good home, a loving wife (even though girls were rather weird), and children of his own. That was his normal, that was what he figured most looked for.

This too Ella realized belatedly was perhaps not the best thing to be doing: honestly, how spoke to a child about mature themes like that? She took his collective actions as a sign of discomfort and sought to rectify the situation – ah, she shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that! Thus after the child at length did speak, she replied hastily, “Not that I expected you to. You look as if you have only been a short time on the streets – or at least the quality of your clothes tells me so. Have you a home yet, little one, or a name I should call you?” It must have been the reminiscence he had created, the way he carried himself that tricked her into thinking he was older than he actually was; so much like herself!

Seven relaxed as they touched unto a subject that was easy and simple to talk about, “I am Seven, I have completely forgotten my manners today Miss Elarinya, please forgive me for that.” He gave a half-bow yet again from his sitting position and then went on without adding any real detail to his home life, “No.. I live on the streets, so far I’ve managed to keep myself clean and to sleep somewhere that I think is safe. Who can be fully sure though? Each morning I wake up intact, so… I’m obviously doing okay for myself, yes?” Being a stray was hard, and what was worse were the feelings that came at random times of having not been good enough for his old owner to want to keep him around for the rest of his life….

“Mmm . . .” She wanted to give what she thought was a sympathetic look, but Ella was the type of person who felt more expressive than what was actually shown, so perhaps this was lost on Seven: and what a strange name, to have a number as an identity! But then, she could hardly talk. Elarinya: who on earth was called that? “If you’re hungry, I live at a University that serves good food. I am sure the masters of the territory would not mind visitors, especially not young ones like yourself.” She couldn’t just leave him there, right? Even for his talk of being able to take care of himself, Ella felt a need to see that he was at least properly fed.

Seven could feel the hunger pangs coming back to him, and he willed them away with all of his might. He had already lost quite a bit of weight just from having to have to be out without regular meals. Usually, he didn’t get hungry enough to have his stomach growl at him, but he’d not eaten today. The gurgle sound low and a bit demanding and Seven blushed just a bit, “I’d be happy to follow you to the University, Miss Elarinya, if for nothing else than to see you home safely.”

Now that, she simply had to grin at. How precious! For all her awkward moments with younger cats, it was times like this that made up for it. “If we meet no trouble along the way,” she told the young boy as she stood and dusted herself off as best she could, “then I will reward you with a hearty meal for your efforts. It would be the least I could do to be escorted by such a gentleman.” This time when she extended a hand to help him up, Ella remembered to use her left hand.

Seven took her hand, standing up without actually putting any pull pressure on her and stood up, carefully dusting himself off. "I doubt that there could possibly be any trouble on the way back, but if it's all the same I'll just stay with to make sure that you don't come to any harm." His next topic, he knew, would be a tough one, but he had to ask her if it would make her feel better, "Pray don't mistake this for rudeness, but I noticed you're shy of your right hand. I know of a place that has calfskin gloves that're a nice snowy white and almost like a second skin... I could get you a pair Miss Elarinya, if you'd like them."

“Hmm? O-Oh, ah . . . That’s fine, really,” Ella said with a hint of sheepishness. “No need to buy such a thing for me, I’m fine. Really, Seven, ‘tis sweet of you, but an escort will do me just fine.” Either he was lighter than she supposed or he hadn’t let her strain at all when the boy stood, and she let go of his hand in order to beckon him. “To my side then, good sir, and let us be off! Food awaits us at the end of this journey, and a greater reward I shan’t know.” And together they left the park in search of the flower-touched lawns of the University.