Melpomene's Daughter, chunk 2

Nimuë was unlike any woman Alexei had ever met before. He couldn't quite figure out in what way, other than that she seemed to have pursued him, rather than vice versa, and puzzled over this as they walked.

It wasn't what he thought at first- although the bits of broken brick and volcanic debris were strewn fairly thoroughly, if irregularly, around, the sidewalks were reasonably clear of jetsam larger than an inch or so in diameter. As they walked, he continued to puzzle it out, with no particular success. It did make for an unusual joint gait, and after about a block and a half, she laughingly asked him about it.

“Why do you keep looking at my feet,” she giggled. “Never seen Birkenstocks before? You can't have been in the Northwest for long. No, that can't be it. Shoe salesperson, perhaps? If that's the case, they're size 38. That must have been it. Birks use European sizing, being made in Germany and what not. That's about a 7 in the U.S. I'd guess you'd wear about a 43.”

Alexei shook his head, indicating the negative.

“Bit of a fetish, then? It's decidedly not a turn-on for me. You don't strike me as that sort either.”

“No, that's not it. It's just that I've. . .”

“. . .never seen a woman walk before?” she finished.

“Well, no. Not quite the way you do it. You don't seem to walk, really. You sort of float, but that's not it exactly.”

“Actually, you're closer than you think,” she answered, but did not elaborate further. “Let's go up this way, ok?”

“Sure. Wherever you like. You know a bit about me- maybe you'll tell me something about yourself? Well, not much about me, but still. . . . I'm babbling again, aren't I?”

“Yes, but it's cute. I do a rotten job of talking about myself. I seem to, well, scare people off. I haven't had what you'd call a normal life.”:

“I promise I'll try to be brave. Besides, who has a normal life anymore? We can start with the easy stuff. What's your last name? Did you grow up around here? What do you do for fun?“

“Full of questions, aren't we,” she purred. “OK. If it makes you feel better, I'll talk about me. No, I didn't grow up around here. I grew up in Ireland, near Kildare, oh, about twenty-seven hundred years ago. Properly, I'm Nimuë NicSidhe, but people who hear my last name never spell it correctly, and those who see it never say it properly either. N-i-c-S-i-d-h-e, said Ni-shee. Now I'm lecturing. I hate it when I do that. See what a horrid job of this I do? Oh, yes. I love music. Satisfied?”

She giggled again and took her hand from his, and skipped a few steps away, then turned, teasingly back toward him, and continued skipping down Pike.

This concludes this week's chunk. Be sure to check back next week to see what new developments evolve.