Welcome to Gaia! ::

Cristoval shrugged, it seemed he had made as much of a point as he was going to be able to without seeming pushy.

It was time for self promotion. He decided taking interest in her animal would suffice. “Is this your charge?” the small man knelt gently by the cage and surveyed the poor creature, “a leopard perhaps? I only assume so from the feint circular spot pattern, seems unusually large for a leopard.” Cristoval took care not to make any gender assumptions, and especially not to referr to the animal as 'it.'

“That is a considerable relief.” Cristoval watched the creature move about slowly, it seemed to be in so much pain. He hoped he would be able to stand his charge going through such changes. “She looks to have been a beautiful creature. A jaguar you said? Where is she from?” Cristoval wanted to get her to talk more at length, so that he would appear a proper listener.

In fact, Cristoval had read quite a bit about various animals, including the jaguar, since he would always read notebooks that passed through his publisher, who specialized in foreign animal sketchbooks. Cristoval could recall fairly clearly the book he had read of jaguars from. It had been more of an expeditionary journal written by a man with a name he couldn’t pronounce.... it had started with a G, but Cristoval could not remember further. The man had seemed to have a tendency, Cristoval thought, to write the journals for himself, and then only publish them later as an afterthought.

“An archeologist visiting Paraguay...” This sounded especially familiar to Cristoval, though it was not as if there was only one man to visit the place, he was getting an uneasy feeling he knew the man from somewhere. Cristoval had a knack for picking up on the vibes of old friends… or enemies, it was easier then remembering them all anyway.

“I spent most of my time in Africa. I documented the various animals there, watched how they interacted. Most of my books are pages and pages of drawings though. I’ve generally found that animals are much like humans, just a bit more content with life… To be honest I don’t believe making an animal into a human is any sort of improvement, but at least you can become closer to a good friend like Willamina seems to be. Coming here for me has is really just the next step in my search to further understand animals.”

It was strange… The more he spoke with Chris the less it seemed to be about strategically wooing her into his embrace. The further he got into this conversation the more he was simply speaking his mind, instead of saying what he thought she wanted to hear. It was probably the subject. He really did want to be closer to animals. They didn’t wall in their instinctual needs with social taboo…

“I could give you some of my sketchbooks to look at if you’re at all interested.” He almost balked, recalling what the subjects of most of his sketches were, he really didn’t know what he was thinking bringing up his sketches like that, “I tried to keep most of the vulgar scientific depictions together, so I should be able to find some books with beautiful family interactions… Actually I believe I have one sketchbook entirely of animal children playing about.” Cristoval chuckled at the thought.

For some unknown reason Cristoval felt something he could only describe as something the opposite of the urge to brag, but that would be feeling modesty, or shyness, and Cristoval was neither. For a moment before his replay, he wondered what it was about this woman that made him act so little like himself.

“I- I’m not an artist, I wouldn’t say. I hardly have time to sketch the animals before they move. Sometimes I’ll go back with a pen and some watercolor to make them look nice, but I wouldn’t boast much more than anatomic accuracy.” Cristoval was very much out of his element. He was not used to unasked attention, and he was especially not used to having little control of his composure, and no one spoke to him about his sketches.

“As for Africa itself, much of the danger comes from the small crawling things at night. Many of the stories about man-eating beasts and satanic heathens are untrue, so far as I know.” Why was he disqualifying his statements with ‘I believe,’ ‘I think,’ and ‘so far as I know?’ What he knew to be true was the truth! Though speaking with Christine had become increasingly interesting and a generally pleasant experience, a twinge in the back of his mind was telling to him to tread lightly. “If you’re careful, and just proceed with patience, the large animals don’t bother much with you. There was really only one instance when I had to defend myself from an animal, and I simply put it out with chloroform.” -and now he had given away his heroic story. This woman was dangerous… but a few more minutes of conversation couldn’t hurt.

With a steady, gentle hand, Cristoval reached into the cage to let the cat sniff him. This wasn’t as important as it was with canines, but generally cats liked to see where things were coming from. “He cut her whiskers…” Cristoval murmured to himself, though within such proximity, Christine could hear, ”For cats that’s akin to removing your fingers...” He hoped the cat wouldn’t snap at him, because pulling his hand back was the last thing he would do. It was never okay to yield dominance to an animal, that’s how people get killed. Neither was it ok, on the other hand, to oppress or back an animal into a corner. Not only was this cruel, but it was another good way to get killed.

“Bugs, yes… The biting ones, the stinging ones, I can’t stand bugs.” Cristoval wrinkled his nose at the thought “They just seem so alien. Like little heartless machines…”

When Willamina snorted her disinterest, Cristoval folded his hands back into his lap. It was a little depressing to see the animal in such a state. He hoped of all things the animals forgot, this stage was one of them.

“Chemistry is my medical specialty. Specifically, I collect and grow different things that relieve pain. Chloroform is the quickest knockout chemical I’ve found. Unfortunately they all have one side effect or another. Chloroform can cause blindness if too much gets in your eyes.” He was babbling by now. Simply spurting out information on subjects Christine seemed interested in.

Cristoval didn’t much like being called an herbalist. It wasn’t a very science-y name. “It’s a bit of Botany and a bit of Chemistry.”

“Hemp, poppy milk, cocoa leaf, kava, all remove or slow your sensation in various ways and are among many plants I’ve collected and know how to grow. Chloroform, however, is an unnatural chemical. It’s made by combining calcium hypochlorite, or bleach powder, with acetone, or propane.” Cristoval wasn’t trying to look smart by reciting the technical names of the compounds, in fact chemistry was one of the few fields in which he knew the terms of, “When those are mixed they kind of bubble up on their own in a chemical reaction, then you have to let it sit because the reaction creates about four different chemicals, and you need to distill out the chloroform, another reason why it’s not terribly safe. Many of the man-made anesthetics are more potent, more controllable, and more dangerous. I try to avoid having to synthesize them myself.”

“I guess I do prefer the natural numbing agents, so herbalist isn’t too inaccurate a title. I know a lot about related fields, but anesthetics are my specialty…”

Cristoval noticed that it was getting late and his charge would be expecting him. Then he remembered something. “Christine? This may be forward of me, but I need to ask you a favor. Salmacis is getting fidgety; she is used to a nomadic pack life. The problem being she may respect me as an individual but it goes against instinct for a female to follow a male, it would only go against her personal feelings to follow another female. I won't put you in danger. I want to be sure she’s healthy and comfortable going into the surgery. ”

Cristoval stood, also dusting himself off, and went to Salmacis’ pen. With little hesitation he unlatched and opened the door.

Salmacis had been awake for a few minutes. It was coming on time for the small monkey to visit her. She could not remember her pack. She had only a feint recollection of being dominant, though her well of strength and confidence was waning. She had been crammed in a cage and thrown into that hellish dank wood beast, and now she lay in a pen she could hardly pace, filled with dead grass and her own refuse. All this she only knew because she was forced to remind herself of it every moment of every day, because she could find nothing to occupy her mind. It frustrated her that nothing was happening for so long. She hadn’t the capacity to entertain herself. She also hadn’t eaten anything warm since before recollection. The stuff the monkey would leave for her was interesting, but not satisfying.

The door opened, Salmacis bolted upright and stared down the small monkey. She could only recall that for some reason related to that little male monkey, she hadn’t lauched herself through the door last time, so she didn’t do so this time either.

“Sometimes I wonder what exactly animals learn. If they remember why they avoid things, or just avoid them out of acquired habit.” Cristoval mused, seeing Salmacis’ reaction. The Spaniard stepped into the stable and took a small leather harness off the wall while making room for Christine to enter. There was enough room in the stable for a full grown horse, so there was enough room for the two people and the canine.

Salmacis was displeased. The little male monkey had brought with him a female. This female was no threat to her at the moment. She did not seem dominant, and seemed to give Salmacis proper attention. For the time being, since she was so hungry, Salmacis concentrated on the dead skin. Those thin straps of dead skin meant food was coming, and all she needed to do was humor the little monkey’s application of the skin. The concept of food thrilled her, but the concept of that clingy skin pulled over her neck and chest somewhat annoyed her, she turned to present her flank to the little male monkey while keeping an inquisitive eye on the female.

Cristoval, meanwhile shrugged at Christine’s comment, “Canines have a distinct inability to hold a grudge for terribly long. All that seems to concern them is now, and how best to be content with now. I don’t know if that means they don’t remember things, or if they are simply much more forgiving than other animals.” The Spaniard knelt andlaid the harness over Salmacis’ back, buckling straps across her shoulders and chest. At the top of the harness was a leather handle. Because Salmacis was such a large animal, no leash was needed.

“When we start walking, you’ll need to stay in front of us, walk with confidence, and act like you’re ignoring me and Salmacis. I’ll be somewhat behind her, so she should think of us as a proper pack. We can still keep talking, and we can make any stops we wish once she knows you’re in the lead.” Cristoval smiled, “If I we walking her on my own, I’d have to go where she wanted to go, she absolutely will not take orders from a male.”

When he was done situation Salmacis, he pulled a small bag of walnuts from his belt and fed Salmacis a few. She really was much like an obedient dog, other than the enflamed matriarch social paradigm. In the back of his mind, he hoped he wasn't underestimating the ferocity of an animal in this situation. sure he'd managed to get hyenas in the wild to suffer his presence, but he'd never dared to tame one.

Salmacis took the food quickly. She hated suffering such strange actions from the monkeys, but at least this one seemed to understand his place. If she thought it would do her any good, she’d simply kill the two…