Stormy Past - Girne and Sadik meet

[sinningenvy]

Traveling in the hot burning sun can be rather tiring. A young boy, the age of thirteen was exploring the area. His long baggy cloths protected his skin from the winds whirling past him. The hat on his head was pressed down to fit him snuggly so it would not fly away. He lifted his arm and blocked his eyes from the sand and dust being thrown at him by the twirling winds. Girne was quick to spot a large abandoned manor to take shelter in. Normally he'd be a bit more cautious about entering such a building, but as of right now all he cared about was getting out of this horrid storm. As he approached the gorgeous moss covered old building, the sand blew and covered up all of his left behind footprints. He sliped into the house through the front door closing it behind him. 'For an abandoned house this place sure looks amazing on the inside,' he thought as he looked around.

Girne took a second to pull his flask of water out, but upon opening it he noticed that it's completely empty. This was not good. "Red? he asked himself when he saw a bowl out of the corner of his eye. He walked over to a small table in a conjoining room. On the table was a lovely silver bowl, clearly from a different land, filled with red, yellow, and even green apples. Being thirsty he grabbed a red apple and sunk his teeth into it. The juice, sweet as always, lined his lips. He grabbed another one and sticks it in his sash-pouch for later.

The sand storm, still raging outside gave Girne this opportunity to explore the house. He moved on to the next room and surveyed the area. Everything was so exotic and foreign, who ever used to live here must have loved to travel. But there was one item in particular that caught Girne's attention, and that was a pot. He wondered over to the beautiful clay creation and scanned over it with his eyes. This fascinating object looked familiar, alot like the vases he makes, himself. 'I've seen this design before,' thought Girne as he stood there admiring the work of art.

[turkey]

The Turk was reclined comfortably on a plush egyptian-styled bench in one of the upper rooms of the manor, his mask abandoned for the day since he was supposed to be alone anyways. The dust storm had spoiled any plans he'd had for that morning, since he would have to wait for it to be over to leave the safety of the large building. There was no one in the town stupid enough to go out during a dust storm, they would suffocate or be torn to ribbons by the flying sand. Above the growling and hissing of the wind, he vaguely heard the shifting of wooden floorboards down below him. He didn't look up from his reading though, passing it off at first as just the house settling a bit. It was old afterall.

Then he heard sounds of movement below, his ears long ago adjusted to the sounds of the house. He had grown up here, listening to every inch of it and he knew the sounds of a person moving when he heard them. Someone was in his house, and he knew it couldn't be a servant. He had given them all the day off, hoping to keep to himself for the day, get things done on his own time. He didn't need them nosing about while he searched books for clues to his past, to who he really was. He had written down a lot of information in journals from when he visited libraries around the world. Of course, there was no point in doing research when his very life could be in danger.

He slowly rose to his feet, setting his book aside and moving catlike across the room and out, towards the stairs. He crept down the stairs to the main hall of the manor, wondering where in the world this intruder had gotten to. His eyes moved across to the "living room" where the apples sat in their silver bowl. He took note that there seemed to be a smaller number there than he remembered putting out. There were less red apples than there had been, as there had been an even number of each. He couldn't remember eating the apples himself, so he assumed the intruder had passed through there.

Moving silently through the house, carefully keeping his movements fluid and soft, as not to draw attention to himself, he slipped through the room. Then, he saw the shadow creeping from the next room. He smirked thinking something about how easy it had been to track the intruder. He slid into the room, coming to a quiet stop behind the boy, looming over him like some sort of angry giant. The boy seemed young, but then again theives came in all shapes, sizes and ages. "Just what do you think you are doing in my house boy?" He accused, his voice sounding threatening, but not as angry as one might expect. If anything, it sounded genuinely curious.

[sinningenvy]

Girne heard footsteps, but thought nothing of it due to the many noises coming from the raging storm outside. It wasn't till he hear the mysterious voice that he jumped, spun around, and went face-to-stomach with the tall Turkish man. "Pardon sir..! I was under the impression that no one lived here." The boy stammered out in a mumble, having been caught off guard, but then continued, "The winds, and the sand..Th-The dust, the sun, a-and the heat.." he paused for a moment the compose himself. Girne then went on and explained to the man about how he was trapped in the terrible storm and simply took refuge in this manor in hope for a safe place to hide. "My intent was not to intrude, but to wait here for the time to pass. Or at least until it is safe to travel again, sir."

After he was done with his story, he tilted his head back and looked up at the man who towered over him. Girne couldn't see the man's face all to well for he stared up with pleading eyes that seemed to ask for permission to stay here for a while.

[turkey]

Sadik froze seeing how frightend the child looked. He listened to him babble about the duststorm and how he was looking for a safe place to stay. He felt bad for the child, but still, he was intruding, and he had been taught that an intruder was an intruder. The only thing that stopped him was the fact the child's face seemed familiar, some features reminded him of a woman he once knew. She was beautiful and kind, and she had loved him, but in the end he couldn't stay with her. He was sure she dispised him now.

He held his silence for a long time, a biting and almost harsh silence as if he were the devil himself judging the boys eternal soul. Finally he sighed, saying "You may stay, for now at least. I would not condemn a child to wander in a duststorm." He had lived through enough of them to know they were hell, and he wouldn't ever put a child out in one. Even if it meant being kind to a trespasser. "You might as well make yourself at home child, I can tell this storm is going to be a long one." Calmly he walked over to an egyptian couch that sat in the corner of the room and sat down one one end, gesturing for the boy to join him on it.

Much of his house was a mix of mediterranian cultures. Egyptian couches and vases, some Greek architecture and artifects here and there, and then the overall Turkish feel to the manor. It was a strange house indeed. He looked at the boy before stating "You can call me Sadik, what should I call you, boy?" He had never cared for forcing children to use formalities like "Mister Adnan" because that just made him feel old. Besides, people had the right to know his name, just as he had a right to know theirs.

[sinningenvy]

With a slight bow of the head he replied with his name, "Girne, sir." He took the offer and joined Sadik on the couch. This gave him somewhat of a better look at the man's face, but at the same time it didn't. For to get the best look he must stare at the Turk and study his face, a thing of which he had not done yet. Girne couldn't help but to think that the guy next to him had somewhat of a familiar look about him. Not particularly from his memory per say, but familiar to him nonetheless. Girne hid his hands in his long sleeves as he sat there with the man, his hands rested on his lap.

"You have a most fascinating home, Sadik." He said politely then continued after a slight pause, "In any case, if you were wondering, I am no thief. I didn't take anything of yours.." Girne reveled the core of the apple he had eaten. As he set it down he said, "Anything of great value, anyway." That last thing was stated rather bluntly. Girne was "cursed" with the mouth of an honest man at times. And, well, he was thirsty, so he took an apple. He didn't think that was to big a deal.

[turkey]

Sadik smiled a little "That's a nice name." He took note of the fact the child seemed to be studying him. A thoughtful boy if anything, one who judged others or who was at least studious. Something in the boy's face reminded him of a woman he had once known, a woman he'd loved. He shook his head a little, clearing the thought from it. There was no way this boy had anything to do with that woman, none at all. Right? He could feel a sense of dread coming over him, thinking that somehow he had done a great evil in leaving her.

Sadik heard the comment about his home, and nodded a little saying quietly "Thank you Girne." The child seemed polite as well. He chuckled when the boy stated he wasn't a thief. He was about to say something when he produced the apple core and bluntly added to his comment. He frowned a little, the apples weren't exactly local, but they weren't expensive things. Besides, from the look of the child he needed the nutrition.

"Well at least you're honest." The honesty made up for the thievery anyways, for now. He rose to his feet quietly, wondering something to himself. The resemblance to that woman the boy bore was uncanny. He motioned for the boy to just wait where he was before he slipped off to a neighboring room. He retrieved a framed photograph from it and returned. The picture was the only one he had taken with him that had both himself and his former love in it.

He sat back down next to the boy looking at the picture and then back at Girne. Cautiously he showed the framed image to the boy questioning "Are you familiar with the woman in this photograph at all?" He had to see if he was right or wrong. He needed to know if this boy had any relation to her...to him. He wondered if after all these years she had kept the copy of the photo they'd had made, if she still thought kindly of him.