OOC: Sticking this in Anywhere Else since the water board hasn't been created yet.

JJ stared out at the calm, glossy surface of the river and decided it was almost ridiculously picturesque. The sandy beach with its fat stones worn smooth from the gently lapping water, the brilliant silver plate of the moon reflected on the river's surface. Her fingers itched for her sketchbook even though she knew a simple sketch would never capture the beauty. If she'd had a gift for oils, she might have been able to come closer. Instead of pencil or brush, though, she hefted a flat stone, cast it with surprising force across the water. It broke the smooth reflection of the moon into a series of ripples.

Water had always been her sanctuary, her haven from the world. The cool wet, the silence beneath the surface. JJ often thought that she knew how selkies felt when they shed their pelts and were bound to land. When she was younger, she had sometimes even scoured the house for her own pelt, sure that the river was where she belonged. But there was no pelt. She was, alas, merely human. Unthinkingly, she pressed her fingers to her shoulder, felt the faint ridges of scars beneath her jacket. Merely human, she thought again.

Jason did not often think on his own mortality. There had been a time--when he had been younger--in which he had thought on it almost nightly. He had learned that being immortal did not make him deathless, and he had not known whether to be relieved by the lesson or horrified. But the worries and revelations had passed just as the years had passed. Now it was the mortality of others that was prevalent in his thoughts.

He had always felt loneliest in the city, because the city for him meant fighting. It meant confronting his own kind again and again, and it meant constant anonymity and change and adhesion to the shadows. But outside of Demaitre's heart, out in the wilderness that surrounded and in places crept into the city, he could walk in the open without watching his back. Away from the city, he could rest without feeling the guilt of each scream and cry he did not have the time or strength to respond to. These trips he did not take often, but each one was much needed, like a breath of fresh air in a world of rank and fetid smog and filth.

The wind carried her scent away from him, so he saw her before he could clearly smell her. She looked so small against the wide bank and tall, ageless trees surrounding her, looked as though she had been somehow misplaced. Her back was turned to him. Jason was not sure whether to confront her or not. On one hand, he despised the idea of being interrupted when he was here on his own--perhaps she felt the same way? But on the other, she was small and alone, and it was still Demaitre. Instead of risking startling her, Jason retraced his steps and moved closer to the river until he was walking up the shore in her direction.

When one doesn't know that one is talking to a potentially life-changing stranger, one does not monitor one's words carefully, which would explain why Jason's first words to JJ happened to be a perplexed:

"Are you new to Demaitre?"

He stopped several yards from her, his posture stiff, his expression impassive and vaguely curious.

Flinging another stone, JJ watched again as the flat rock skipped across the surface of the water. It left a series of ripples in its wake, which spread and spread long after the stone itself had sunk. But, did the stone have meant any more for having left its trail? Or was it simply a stone at the bottom of a river either way? JJ had a lot of time on her hands. No job, few acquaintances. She spent most of her time working out and reading, in lieu of actually interacting with people. Lately she'd been reading philosophy books and now wondered if that was having some impact on her thinking. She supposed it must, since she was pondering the purpose of pebbles.

She heard Jason's approach before she saw him. The curve of the riverbank and the reflective quality of the water bounced the soft crunch of his shoes on the pebbly shore to her ears. Automatically, she glanced around for the source of the steps. At the same time, she crossed her arms, as though chilled by the cool breeze off of the river, though in reality the move brought her hand closer to her weapon. It wasn't paranoia, she thought wryly, when they were really after you.

His question, though, brought a slight frown of puzzlement to her face. Why would he think that, she wondered, then remembered the concerts on the river that brought many tourists in for the summer. The concerts were far downstream, but the riverside made for a pretty walk. "No, I've lived here all my life," she responded, wondering how one was supposed to handle a situation like this. JJ studied him, her dark eyes passing over him in one quick flicker. He was tall and looked solid, though she had to say, not threatening. He had stopped some distance away to speak to her. "Are you? New to Demaitre, that is."