It's Independance Day [open]

[Melissa|Tristan]

The crunch of snow under the tires of the red Volvo C70 announced it's entrance into the parking lot, breaking the otherwise silent, crisp morning. Within two minutes, the engine's purr had ceased, the keys tossed into the driver's pocket, and the person had begun his walk down the snowy, narrow trail. For Tristan, it was the perfect time to walk; having just woken up and had breakfast. He had arrived in town only two days earlier, but he already had an apartment, a job, and was planning on staying for quite some time. As long as he needed to figure stuff out, that is.

The gardens seemed like the perfect place to go to think. It was winter, so no one was likely to be around, but the paths were shoveled, making it an easy walk. Somehow, it still felt like he was in the middle of a forest; a well groomed forest though. The fresh air was nice, a welcome change from the air in the city. It smelled new and clean, like no one had ever breathed it before him. The snow was pure and unmarred in most places, and it made Tristan's heart a little lighter thinking about it's newness. After walking for some time, the trees opened up into an open, snow-covered area. Several sets of tracks crisscrossed the snow around him, a stunning variety of creatures. The most common prints were deer and rabbits, but Tristan found one set of smudged wolf tracks. He knew that that meant little, since wolves each step into the track of the wolf before them, so there was no telling how many of them there had been. The only reason Tristan even recognized the wolf prints was because his uncle's talisman was a wolf. That, and the fact that he’d used to have a dog. Tristan walked towards a bench, carefully clearing a space for himself in the snowdrift that had settled there, and sat down.

The tranquility of this place was astounding. It was amazing how everything was so calm and quiet, when for all of his life Tristan had been caught up in the hustle and bustle of the city life. His whole family lived there, a good distance away, still caught up in that rush of busyness. Tristan had expected himself to miss the rush, but in truth he was taking delight in the relaxation and easy pace of Noatak. In fact, he was reveling in his newfound independence, and truly enjoying being by himself on his own. It was beautiful here, he’d give them that. The town was quiet and peaceful, at least during the day. Nighttime was another story altogether. Tristan hadn’t really wandered during the night, not out of fear, but simply because there was no reason to ask for trouble here. Why pick a fight if you didn’t have to? Besides, he was here to make friends, not enemies.

Most of the guys at his school would had made fun of him for his decision to move into a hick-town, but Tristan had cared so little about what they’d thought that it didn’t really matter anyways. What mattered now was figuring out what these recurring dreams meant, and why he was having them. Tristan had been having the same dream almost every night for the past month or so, one about a black and white paint stallion. The stallion would watch him with bright blue eyes, an unusual eye color for a horse, and then begin to walk towards him. Once he was within an arms length, Tristan would touch the stallions nose and a light would appear. In the instant before he woke up, Tristan felt completely whole and at peace with himself, joined as he was with the stallion. Then, he would hear hoofbeats drumming, a noise that sometimes seemed to last even after he was fully awake. It was the strangest dream Tristan had ever had, but not an unpleasant one.

The snow swirled around him, but Tristan wasn’t cold at all. His down coat, warm hat and mittens were keeping him comfortable, even though he was still sitting somewhat in snow. The snow wasn’t deep in the area, and with the sun shining everything looked optimistic today. Tristan hadn’t felt the pangs of loneliness yet; he had no girlfriend from home to talk to, and his family was leaving him alone for the moment. No, he liked the silence and the time to ponder his problems. He had no new thoughts about the dream, but it didn’t worry him too much. The dream hadn’t upset his sleep, and it had in fact comforted him and reassured him in this new aloneness he was taking on. Rarely had Tristan felt so comforted as when the rhythmic drumming of the hoofbeats filled him up, the whinnies of the stallion calling to him, the wind racing past him as they ran together. His single wish was to know the secret, why the stallion chose to visit him only in dreams. Tristan wanted the dream to be real.

[Fulong|Clara]

Tristan wasn't the only one who appreciated the quiet of the gardens. For Fulong, they afforded a place to think--one not too far away from the clinic where he worked, easily accessible by foot when a longer trip to the outskirts of town simply wasn't feasible.

He felt at home here amidst the freshly fallen snow. It was still being whirled about by a playful breeze here and there, speckling his dark hair and eyebrows as he walked. There was a certain purity to the scene that he found he missed, even if the white that surrounded him had already been crossed with the tracks of deer, rabbits, and wolves. How many of those, he wondered, belonged to humans in reality? Not even he could tell.

It had been a relatively short month here, all things told, but he still hadn't met many of the town's inhabitants. That was the thing, he supposed, with roaming the better part of Canada for the last few years; it hadn't put him in an ideal position to form lasting relationships. Perhaps he might not even stay here for very long--but no. This was an ideal location, for more reasons than one, and both he and his talisman knew that they had reached their destination for the time being.

There was a young man up ahead, seated on a bench--most likely enjoying the weather and the solitude as well. The only noise Fulong made as he approached was the crisp sound of his shoes moving through previously untrodden snow. As he drew nearer, he pulled down his worn white scarf slightly, offering a smile.

"Good morning," he said simply.

[Melissa|Tristan]

The tranquility of the scene was broken briefly by crunching footsteps approaching. Tristan alertly glanced up at the intruder, an older guy who was stylishly dressed. The man carried himself in what Tristan would consider a dignified manner, taking his time strolling through the frozen gardens, as though he had nowhere else he needed to be. Perhaps he didn't.

The guy was very thin though, as in almost anorexic-looking thin. Hell, Tristan was bigger than this guy, both height and muscle wise. Perhaps it was because of his oriental appearance; in Tristan's experience people of oriental descent were usually either very short and squat, or tall and thin. This man was definitely the latter.

After absorbing the formal feeling greeting, Tristan returned it with a similar formality. Morning. I thought I was the only one crazy enough to want to go for a walk at 7 in the morning on a Saturday. An impish half-smile crossed Tristans face before he slid himself down the bench a little ways, clearing a space in the snow for the man to sit down. Would you like to sit? I wouldn't mind the company. Indeed, Tristan needed a distraction, something to keep his mind off the dreams. Recently he had been feeling uncomfortable with himself, though he didn't know why or what to do about it. He didn't mind his soul-searching being interrupted though; it would be good to take a break, and even better to meet someone new here, since he didn't really know anyone in town yet.

[Fulong|Clara]

Fulong's own smile widened in turn, and a little of the formality dropped away. At least the stranger seemed genuinely friendly, with little of the secrecy that had hung around Ofelia and Aurelia like stormclouds. It would be good to have an honest acquaintance here.

"Thanks," he said, seating himself and loosening the scarf slightly. "I'm not usually a morning person, but I kind of like the quiet. I appreciate a chance to think every now and then."

He leaned back in the chair, quirking an eyebrow at the stranger. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why are you out here? It's a little cold for a jog, and you don't look like the type to meditate in the snow."

A pause before he belatedly added, "I'm Fulong Li, by the way. Call me Fulong."

[Melissa|Tristan]

At least it wasn't quite as cold as it had been the past few weeks. Winter was almost over, and the temperatures had gradually begun to climb out of the negatives. Tristan had discovered that he hated the winter season, since there was no indoor swimming pools here in Naotak. He just couldn't live without swimming; it had been pretty much his life when he'd been in high school.

. . . I kind of like the quiet. I appreciate a chance to think every now and then. I know what you mean. My head's so full of stuff right now that I can't think straight. He was referring, of course to his dreams, or rather nightmares of late. He'd been feeling jumpy and uncomfortable with himself since the dreams started, and there had been no improvements so far. It was nervewracking, waiting for them to stop, and that's assuming that they would indeed stop.

When questioned about his motives for taking a walk in the snow, Tristan licked his lips nervously, trying to think of a response that didn't sound crazy. Finally settling on one that wasn't too bad, he coughed to clear his throat. It's true, I hate winter, but I thought that maybe a walk might tire me out so I could get a decent nights sleep. The dark circles around Tristan's eyes were more obvious in this clean, white world than in the darkness of his apartment, and he probably should have made more of an effort to look presentable. His rumpled shirt and jeans were probably in need of a wash, but Tristan was so exhausted that he didn't have energy to do any housework at the moment.

I'm Fulong Li, by the way. Call me Fulong. Definitely not a native Canadian name by any standards, but race didn't really matter much to Tristan anyways. He'd already seen several people in town who couldn't possibly be native to Canada, and those people associated with the town's indigenous people. It had surprised Tristan when he saw a Chinese woman speaking to an elderly British man earlier in the week; in the city, the different nationalities formed their own miniature towns within the city and didn't involve themselves with each other.

Nice to meet you, Fulong. Tristan Grant, EMT at your service. Err . . . actually, let's hope you don't need them. A nervous laugh sounded from Tristan's lips, because he knew it could be a very real possibility that Fulong would need him sometime, since there had been numerous emergency calls in town during the past several days alone. There'd been everything from a slip and fall to several people with gunshot wounds, which was highly unusual for a small town. Before coming to Naotak, Tristan had treated a total of 2 people who had stab wounds, and 4 people who'd been shot. Now he'd seen 5 people with stab wounds, and 8 with gunshot wounds. Honestly, what was going on in this town? He was determined to find out, and perhaps this person could help him.

[Fulong|Clara]

The dark circles under Tristan's eyes hadn't gone unnoticed by Fulong; nor had his disheveled appearance. Still, Fulong chose not to remark on them specifically. He didn't know Tristan, and this could very well be the way he looked all the time.

Instead, he settled for a friendly, "I love the winter, but I know what you mean."

If Tristan was an EMT, he'd probably been here for longer than Fulong had. At the very least, he had to know the area fairly well--better than Fulong, who'd mostly kept to himself for the majority of the past month. "Really? I work at the clinic in town. They mostly keep me doing the filing, which is probably why I haven't seen you there." A quick grin. "I hope I won't need your services either. Here's to hoping I avoid any potentially lethal papercuts."

He inclined his head slightly, faint curiosity showing on his face. "Probably a personal kind of question, but is your job the reason you haven't been sleeping well? I imagine being an EMT could mess up anyone's sleep schedule."

[Melissa|Tristan]

Fulong’s gaze was very penetrating, and it appeared to take in everything about Tristan’s appearance, including the wrinkled clothes. Tristan self-consciously tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt without making it obvious that that’s what he was doing. Hopefully Fulong wouldn’t notice, or at least if he did, hopefully he would have enough tact not to mention it.

Tristan smirked at the man’s sense of humor, noting that they were more alike than they appeared to be at first. It was an interesting coincidence that Fulong worked in the clinic, when Tristan worked in one of their ambulances. It was too bad that the guy was stuck filing papers, though if that’s what he wanted to do, all the power to him. Tristan himself couldn’t imagine being forced to do paperwork for a living, because he needed action, something exciting to look forward to. Plus there was the added bonus of being able to help people firsthand.

Tristan gaped at Fulong’s ‘personal question’. Whoa! The guy wass much more perceptive than he appeared to be, yet more proof not to judge a book by it's cover. Now, how to answer. Unsurprisingly, Tristan answered truthfully, seeing no harm in telling the man, besides possibly being perceived as a wimp. No, I love my job. I’ve been having . . . um, a recurring nightmare. I just can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter what I do. Putting his elbows on his knees, Tristan ran his hands over his face and raked them through his hair, only succeeding in mussing it up more than it already was. Perhaps Fulong had read something in the clinic that could help him get rid of the dream. All Tristan wanted was peace and possibly a good long nap.

[Fulong|Clara]

Tristan appeared unusually surprised at Fulong's question, which was slightly odd; wouldn't anyone have put two and two together? Unless that wasn't the reason at all--which it wasn't, as Tristan answered the question for him.

Any other little town, and Fulong would have dismissed the nightmare as inconsequential. But in Noatak, where it was common knowledge what sort of people tended to congregate, a recurring nightmare could very well mean something else entirely. Fulong knew when to err on the side of caution, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was assume something that could very well be untrue. But Tristan was easily the most open person he'd met here. Fulong considered himself a fairly reasonable judge of character, and a potential Seeker like this one...well, he could be of some help.

Still, his face betrayed none of his thoughts, displaying only mild curiosity and a little sympathy. "Well, that doesn't sound fun," he said, his quiet voice lending a little understated humor to his tone. He didn't ask about for details straight off the bat; that would be rude and completely uncalled for, as far as he was concerned. "Have you gotten it checked out at the clinic?"

[Melissa|Tristan]

For some reason Fulong’s face became very thoughtful at Tristan’s answer. He actually seemed to be taking Tristan seriously, and best of all, he hadn’t laughed or anything at him. Now all Tristan was waiting for was the punch line to the joke, proof that Fulong thought he was crazy. But all Fulong asked was whether or not he’d gotten checked out at the clinic.

No . . . I-I didn’t really think that it was necessary. I mean, I’ve been tired, but not that tired. Why, do you think I should? Fulong’s understanding tone was coupled with . . . curiosity? I guess a case of insomnia is more interesting than another common cold or some more filing. Tristan ran his hands through his hair, frustrated beyond belief that he just couldn’t sleep properly. This sucks.

Tell me about it. Tristan froze, tensing both physically and mentally at the voice he’d just heard –no, though he’d heard- inside his head. With a groan, his face went back into his hands. Or maybe I’m just going crazy. It was definitely possible, though Tristan hoped desperately that it wasn’t true. He didn’t want to be stuck in some psyche hospital for the rest of his life . . . unless they had a very nice swimming pool.

[Fulong|Clara]

"It's up to you, I guess." Fulong kept his tone of voice light--an apparent attempt to keep the conversation from spiraling downward. There was nothing to be gained from making the situation any more serious than it already was. "A recurring nightmare doesn't sound like the type of thing you'd want to keep with you any longer than you already have. But then, what do I know? I just sit in an office all day and file." A quick grin, though it wasn't directed at Tristan's situation.

The grin suddenly turned into questioning surprise as Tristan froze. Even someone less observant than Fulong would have noticed his tensing. As it was, concern won out over surprise as Tristan buried his face in his hands, and Fulong leaned over slightly, frowning.

"What's the matter?" he said, the joking in his voice gone. "For a moment there you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

[Melissa|Tristan]

It was good that Fulong could joke at himself, but something about the way he did it felt a little . . . well, fake to Tristan. Like he was trying to distract, and unfortunately, Tristan was an easily distracted person. Yeah, I s'ppose you're right. It's not all bad though. Tristan waited a second until he saw barely masked curiosity. If there was one thing Tristan loved, it was an audience.

After deciding how much to confide in Fulong, Tristan figured, just givver. And givver he would. There's one part, with this horse. She's got black and white spots and eyes as blue as the sky. Tristan's own bright blue eyes snapped back to Fulong, making sure he was paying attention. She takes off running across this field, and then races through a river towards me. She comes closer and closer, and when I reach out to touch her there's this light. His hands were moving swiftly through the air now, trying to demonstrate the magical event. When the light's gone, she's gone too. Then I hear hoofbeats inside my head, and then I wake up. Only now realizing how strange and silly his dream sounded, Tristan glanced over at Fulong, a sheepish expression clearly written on his face.

A dumb dream to lose sleep over, huh? Tristan laughed at himself, but he listened intently for the voice again. Nothing. No, not a ghost. More like . . . a voice. Didn't you hear it too? This was getting beyond weird. Not only did Fulong seem sympathetic towards Tristan's sleeplessness, there was something about his eyes that suggested that he knew what was wrong. Tristan was going to find out what it was, and then fix it.

[Fulong|Clara]

Fulong listened attentively as Tristan spoke. If there was one thing he loved, it was being a good audience. Besides, Tristan had a certain flair for storytelling that was apparent despite how brief this part of the dream sounded, and that talent would have held Fulong's interest regardless of the dream's subject matter.

But it was that subject matter that captured his attention. If there had been any doubt in his mind about the nature of Tristan's dreams, that doubt was gone now, swept away by the description of the horse and the reaction of Fulong's own talisman as the crane called in immediate recognition. Fulong only smiled at Tristan's question for the moment, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think it's dumb at all."

Tristan was honest, but that didn't mean he was stupid, and Fulong settled back against the bench, tilting his head up to watch his breath float toward the sky in puffs of white. The other man deserved to know what Fulong thought; the sooner he found out, the better for everyone involved.

"I didn't hear any voice except yours and mine," he said after a moment. "But that doesn't mean I don't think I know what's going on. I'm not going to lie to you; I have a pretty good idea why you're losing sleep over a dream you think is so dumb." He glanced over at Tristan, a hint of the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I may be able to help you out there."

[Melissa|Tristan]

((OOC:Sorry it's so short; the next one will be longer, I promise!))

Fulong made a great audience, listening with great focus. Perhaps he's just boosting my ego by pretending to pay attention. Fulong proved otherwise though, when he not only responded, but he knew what was going on. What was Fulong talking about? Well, whatever it was, Tristan was going to find out. He needed to fix this problem before it interfered any more in his life.

Please, please tell me. At the solemn expression on Fulong's face, Tristan winced. It's bad, isn't it? Or, maybe I am going crazy. Either was a very real possibility, but Tristan's simple wish was to make them -the dreams and the voice- go away. Maybe he'd just imagined the voice after all. It could have just been noise from something else nearby. Not likely. Turning his head abruptly to the side, Tristan studied Fulong's mouth.

Had it been his voice? No, Fulong's voice didn't sound anything like the one Tristan had just heard, again. It hadn't been his imagination after all, apparently. Trying to focus on Fulong was difficult, but Tristan had self-discipline even if he had nothing else.

[Fulong|Clara]

[Short post right back at you! ]

"Not necessarily." Fulong was nothing if not a good actor, and he could play to an audience just as well as he could be one. He called up that ability now, his voice reassuring but not patronizing. "It depends on what you do with it. It can be a gift as easily as a curse, like most things that come our way."

A sharp jab from the crane, a wordless get on with it. He chuckled mentally; Tristan probably didn't want him waxing philosophical when all he wanted were answers.

Fulong paused for a moment before he began again, more curious than reassuring now. "I very much doubt you're insane, assuming I'm not mistaken about the source of your dreams. But gifts like these are generally passed down through the blood, from father to son and mother to daughter. Tell me, have you ever heard of a talisman?"

[Melissa|Tristan]

Fulong’s reassurances were comforting, since he seemed to know what was going on inside Tristan’s head, even if Tristan himself didn’t know. Meanwhile, the cryptic comments were getting on his nerves. Why didn’t the guy just tell him already? Tristan wasn’t what you’d call unintelligent, rather he liked everything to be simple. No beating around the bush with him, just spell it out. It took too much effort to dance around what you were actually trying to say.

Irritatingly, Fulong sure was taking his time to answer Tristan’s question. Just before Tristan was about to explode however, Fulong finally answered, in his roundabout way. Talismans? In the split second breath he took, a voice replied smugly. Duh! I could have told you that! Ignoring it for now, he continued as if nothing had happened. Pretend it doesn’t exist. Pretend it doesn’t exist.

Yeah, of course I’ve heard of them. My whole family has them, but I don't . . . wait . . . that’s what you think is wrong with me? Comprehension dawned on Tristan’s face, then confusion. But I thought I couldn’t get one . . . The words were said almost to himself, though loudly enough for Fulong to easily hear. Though nothing about this was logical, some odd part of it actually was making sense.