Xaviers!

It was still a bit chilly out -- January in the UK, after all -- but an unseasonably warm day (and the lack of a regular armed escort) inspired Katarina to take a stroll around the estate proper.

Physically, this wasn't much different than back home -- while Symkaria's palace wasn't the largest or most prestigious of European royalty, it had enough open space to walk around in. And, like Xavier's, it was surrounded by a wall, to keep the riff-raff out. So, really, this wasn't that much different after all.

But knowing that she could go anywhere. That there weren't a dozen eyes watching her every move, that people weren't sweeping the area with automatic weaponry to make sure she was 'safe' -- now that was different.

And so, it was with this positive mindset that Katarina settled up against a tree, closed her eyes, and took in the warmth of the afternoon.

((open))

The rhythmic strumming of a guitar drifted in the air from somewhere nearby. A pleasingly coarse, soulful voice soon joined it.

♫"I've looked under chairs
I've looked under tables
I've tried to find the key
To fifty million fables"♫

Katarina craned her neck to try to see who was playing what, and where.

Shane sat against another tree, bedecked in pale green slacks a jacket that appeared vaguely like leaves pretending to be leather. He was completely absorbed in performing for an audience of none.

An audience of one, I think you'll find.

Katarina rolled over, letting Shane continue his song.

After a few minutes, the green boy finished with an improvised flourish that utilized his adjustable nature to pluck combinations of notes impossible to do with fingers that couldn't change length and bend regardless of joints. It was then he noticed his audience and gave a flirtatious smile.

"I thought I was alone. But, alas, I must be burdened by the presence of beauty," he mock-lamented.

After a pause, he groaned, "Bloody hell, I'm still spouting cheesy fantasy bard pickup lines."

"Sorry about that."

"Ah, so you were one of those fighting the mighty dragon, were you?" she smiled.

"Lovely song. An original?"

"Yes I... wait what? No, it's not. It's by The Who. You don't know The Who?" he asked as only a classic rock nerd can.

"Is it some kind of mutant rock group? Owl-people or something?"

"No no no. Legendary British rock band from the sixties and seventies. Classic stuff."

"I'm afraid I'm not that knowledgeable in ancient rock and roll."

"I believe you mean good rock and roll. Modern rock is mostly shite by comparison. But then I was clearly born in the wrong decade, musically speaking."

"Oh, that seems a bit harsh! There is plenty of good music today. Like Taylor Swift, or Bruno Mars, or Fifth Harmony!"

"Literally none of those are rock," he pointed out, "But I'll give you Mars and will grudgingly admit some of Swift's newer stuff is alright."

"Oh, well, that's awfully generous of you," she laughed.

"I'm nothing if not a magnanimous music snob," he smirked.

"Play something else," she said, with the air of someone who's used to getting their way.

While the tone of the request chafed at him, the urge to impress a pretty girl won the fight.

"Then how about something more original?" he asked, starting to play without waiting for an answer. A gentle introduction segued into an energetic but somehow wistful number about a girl with hair like the sun to whom those found wanting were all but invisible. Known but unknown. It was very clear from the performance that he had been one such admirer; one of many. But the song ends with a realization that the infatuation was more about wanting what is out of reach than the girl herself. Of course, it wouldn't be a good classic rock influenced song without a minute of just plain showing off his guitar skills.

Katarina listened, patiently, and then politely applauded when Shane finished -- a rather impersonal finish to a very personal performance, perhaps.

"That was lovely. Did you write that yourself?"

"Yes. It took a few rewrites, having written the first version when I was still rubbish at it, but I decided it's finally ready for ears other than my own. Glad you liked it."

"Well, practice makes perfect. I'm sure if you keep it up, you'll be just like the Whoever they are."

"Not a lot of classic rock radio stations in... uhh... well I'm not going to risk offense by guessing. Where's home for you?"

"Symkaria. Eastern Europe."

"Must be stressful with old metalhead next door."

"That's something we don't call him in Symkaria.

This may be because he has spies everywhere."

"Clearly all that armor is to compensate for his thin skin."

"You know what? Talking like this is ridiculous," he said, before getting up and bringing his belongings with him to sit cross-legged in front of her. "Better."