A Place To Bloom

Oasis

Oasis came downstairs in a printed shawl of reds, whites, and yellows swirled together in square patterns. The garment hugged her waist, leaving dark-olive skin exposed at the sides of her breasts along with her phenomenal legs.

Anyanna watched my eyes, only to avert her gaze as soon as I turned to face her.

Oasis had tied her hair back on one side with a white lace scarf and silver hair pin, leaving a twisting lock of bronze hair to fall on the other side. Her one exposed ear had several tiny silver ringlets and a delicate chain with a small diamond-tree stone dangling at the end that glittered like a rainbow.

"Oasis, this is Anyanna," I said. "She says there's a place called Turtle Plaza that promises to be fun."

Anyanna lowered her eyes and smiled through her pronounced underbite, clutching her fingers around that black, woolen shawl and pulling it tight over her shoulders.

Oasis gave a perfunctory smile and nodded before turning back to me. "I am being worried. I cannot leaving Dune alone..."

I took her shoulders in my hands and gazed down into her round face. Dune's life was in God's hands whether Oasis stayed with her or not. "She's sleeping. It's the best thing for her right now. And the best thing for you is to get out and relax a little."

As we turned towards the door, Anyanna leaned close to me. "I don't speak Goloagi very well."

"Nothing at all?"

Anyanna shrugged. "A few simple phrases, but not enough to hold a conversation."

"Well that's a conundrum. She doesn't speak Herali."

At that, Anyanna glanced over at Oasis and stepped forward to lead the way without another word.

Through the crowded plaza, Oasis and I followed Anyanna down a westward street with the midmorning sun casting its warmth on our backs. The street dropped down, taking us with it. A stone Cougar six stories up kept watch over the passersby, with the building on the opposite side hosting a stone Alligator doing the same. In a shop on the left, the fragrant invitation of fresh cut flowers called out, and at one corner a boy stood quietly holding up a folded stack of paper pressed with the day's news. He just stood there and said nothing.

I turned to Oasis. "I was that boy in Kyoen for a few weeks; they made us shout the headlines as loud as we could."

Oasis smiled and nodded, glancing over her shoulder at him before he was out of view. Anyanna glanced over her shoulder at the remark, then turned back and kept walking.

As for Turtle Plaza, we could hear it well before we got there. Above the bustling noise of the street below, the thunderous boom of a bass drum echoed off the stone walls of the towering buildings as it curved round and to the left.

By the time we rounded the turn, other instruments joined in. Strings, horns, rattles, a song of every color echoed off the stones, but Anyanna led us down a side-street small enough that we could have easily walked past and not noticed it was there. About ten yards down amid a handful of makeshift stalls showing wares of dyed cottons, carved wooden beads and other things, was an old man with dark-green skin.

I'd only ever seen people that color in the tapestries the other day.

It was real.

Wherever he came from, people had that color—dark green like the color of seaweed and wrinkled from his years. His hair was long and ivory colored with streaks of gray, braided down his back beneath a black cap that fitted over his head like a rag, and his eyes were golden yellow. He wore a simple brown tunic made of burlap, and peeking out from beneath the collar was the tip of a white tattoo.