Busking at the Fountain

[ginger_firebird]

Visitors to the fountain might see a somewhat unusual sight this day. Mantis is having a glorious sit next to the mist coming off of the water and has a leash wrapped around his wrist. On the other end of the leash is a catwing in a harness. It’s a happy little calico flapping his wings and batting at the water as Mantis watches. There’s a basket with long straps sitting by Mantis’ feet and from it he pulls out a bottle of water to drink from. The weather has been simply too hot for his liking, but Yaga needs his exercise.

Mantis sighs and wipes at the sweat pooling at the back of his neck. He’s dressed in the lightest cotton tank he could find and the most breathable linen pants, and still he’s overheating marvelously. The swimming heat does give him an idea, though, and he looks around him briefly before nodding. There were people in the Nexus who knew when their minds were being read. Surface thoughts that were easy enough to get through, but he’s also met those who have a profound level of influence and control.

So why not see where they are? One psychic to another. Mantis begins to hum quietly to himself, but sensitive ears and minds might be able to hear his hymn. It’s a mournful little melody born out of the remnants of childhood memories and he’s used it to amplify his powers for years. It was always meant to sink deep into a part of the brain that was easier to read, easier to control, but he’s not looking to make a puppet or even mess around all that much.

A question echoes and repeats along the notes of the music as it cycles back and forth along the vicinity around the fountain and perhaps even further: “Can you hear me? Do you know where I am? How alone are we in a place like this?”

Comments

[ginger_firebird]

As much as he understands why someone would call it such, Mantis can’t get his head around calling his powers ‘magic’. They never have been in his world. Everything is based in science and studies and tests. Magic always sounded so…fake. He’ll call himself a psychic until the day comes when his existence might yet fade completely to nothingness.

His head perks up, along with Yaga’s, and he turns where he sits to face this person who is so clearly able to talk back along the same channels that Mantis can access. Mantis can’t help but smile, just a little. This is more his speed. He shakes his head physically and his words going back are tinged with curiosity.

“None at all. You’re against one of the buildings. I only wanted to poke my nose around, so to speak, and see who can really hear me the way I can hear them. My name is Psycho Mantis. I ended up here not too long ago.”

[coffee_elf]

Semantics, perhaps. Or cultural differences. Magic, to Arraka'arans, is a hereditary gift, a birthright, though not everyone can wield it. Probably if they compared notes, the methods of study they use would have some things in common. But they have a ways to go in their acquaintanceship before they get to that point.

He can feel the curiosity, senses some of the nuances in the communication, beyond words. This is not meant as aggression, clearly, although it strikes him as pushy and uncomfortable nonetheless. Like someone on the train who wants to have a friendly conversation but is standing far too close to do it.

"This would be considered impolite in my culture," his response comes, and he hasn't made any effort to move or to hide where he is, though the sensations still ripple across the lines of communication. The direction of the sunlight and the breeze may well help Mantis pinpoint which building he's behind.

"I mean, to reach out so widely and so deeply, without an emergency you need help with.
But everyone approaches things differently here." He's still wary, but not accusatory. "My name is Rondo."

The texture of the telepathy shifts, sensation giving way to sound--but this time it's not a sound that's present around him. Rather, it's a memory, the hum of insect wings between rocks and a light, fluttery scratch-scratch-chirp of something hunting them. "I just visit here. I live on my own home planet."

[ginger_firebird]

Cultural differences galore, more than likely. Mantis is infinitely curious about someone who can project whole thoughts like this. The feeling intensifies as he takes in the new words and sensations that come along with them. And he is being quite pushy, but Mantis isn't someone who has the patience to be anything less than that.

"Would it? There's not enough people on my world for there to have been any kind of consensus on the rudeness of talking to people like this." Which isn't an excuse, but it's all he has. "I can almost tell where you are. You're letting me borrow some extension of your senses."

Yaga is oblivious to the talking Mantis is doing, but the feeling of pressure as he walks across Mantis's lap travels into his side of the talking. This stranger can get a phantom sensation of soft fur and feathers under his fingertips.

"Psycho Mantis. I'm new, but not overly so. This is the first time I've had a living body in years. It's odd being among the living again."