The ocean rolled in, pulled back, and then took a deep breath and rolled in again. A storm had passed not long ago, and the waves were still in an uproar. The sand was wet and pockmarked by droplets, but the clouds had fled and the sun was drying everything. Nothing stayed wet for long here, not with the sun and the wind. That was something Maalech was quite grateful for, he had missed the storm creeping up behind the island, and it had caught him on the beach. By now he was fairly drenched, there was little shelter here against wind and rain, but the sun would take care of that as well.

He should have paid attention to the skies, that he knew. But alas he had been too busy doing what he was doing more and more these days. Thinking.

There was far too much to think about. He stretched his back a bit, shading his eyes as he looked towards the sun, brushing back his wet grayish hair. This peace was an oddity he still had trouble dealing with.

In the Wreath there was too much diversity--Cecilians, Gali, a few Qa'ad who kept mostly to their own quarters and rarely ventured out unless invited, here and there the red jackets of the Aquitanean Navy or the local police--for anyone to be much of a surprise. But the Gali woman stood out. Her hair was a pure white and waist-long rope, twisted, not braided, and woven with a string of simple shell beads. Skinned back from her dark face, the rope seemed to glow. The face beneath it was elderly, frail-looking, deeply lined, but elegant in its way. Like most of the local Gali, she wore simple sandals, a loose violet coloured blouse over a matching tiered skirt, and a hand-stitched shawl, dark blue with a swirling pattern, dotted here and there with jet beads.

It might take a moment to notice that she left no footprints in the wet sand behind her.

It took a moment, yes. In all honesty Maalech's eyes was first caught by the shawl, the pattern therein an intriguing one. It was only later, as he looked over the rest of the woman in his usual cursory manner when he noticed the lack of tracks on the beach. Mage? Perhaps. But few users of the art were as obvious with their talent, and if they were, they would manifest it in grander ways. A local godling perhaps, but the matching clothing and the certain presence made him think she was another form of godling altogether. So as she approached he bowed lightly to her, a courtesy no matter what form of creature she was.

"It seems like the shade is too dark for Blue, and there is no sense of whimsy. Indigo perhaps?"

"They told me you would most likely be found near the water," the woman explained, her voice very light. "Then again, it is an island." She inclined her head, acknowledging the recognition, and held out a hand. "I am Mnemosyne," she said. "One of these days we will stop all this puttering around you individually and get you with the group. Today is not that day."

"Grandmother Ocean..." Maalech gestured with one hand, indicating the turmoil of the waves. "It is perhaps a nostalgic foolishness, but then again I have never lived on a small island before." He shook her hand politely, and ebcause manners seemed to demand it he added "Maalech. But you are aware of this already." Once he released her hand he pondered "You give your name freer than the others. Mnemosyne... it is mentioned in some tales as the goddess of memories, the mother of inspiration." He shrugged briefly, to release his shirt that was sticking uncomfortably to his skin. "Or perhaps these are simply tales of smiliar creatures. Names at times cross worlds more easily than people do."

She turned her hand over. "I've never had much trouble with names," she said. "Someone borrowed this one for me. At any rate, I am here because we will be working together, should you become the next Grey, and I wish to get to know you better. I am also the one who will be called to adjust your memory, should you prove unworthy, so I might as well get that piece of information out of the way."

"Unworthy." Maalech tasted the word, it was obvious that he had more issues with that than with the eventual adjustments of his memory. "I assume it will be the same should I decline?" It was not as if he was unaware of what he was doing here, but it was far too late to turn back now.

"Please forgive me if I sound as if I am taking this lightly." He shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips as he watched her. "I fear it was some time since I had to entrust myself to the judgments of others. It have never sat well with me. And I do appreciate your visitation, I still do not know as much as I would wish about what you and your kind are. Though I gather I will not gain that knowledge while remaining such as I am."

Human.

"No," she replied, equally calmly. "I do not see any reason why the mere knowledge should be eliminated, although you may prefer it be done so." She gave him a pretty close-lipped smile. "At present this is for my own personal information. My duties entail the occasional correction of collective and individual memory; the Grey Aspect alters the actual passage of time. Therefore, we often work closely. You will learn of several such collusions. Grey also works with the Yellow Aspect, but her job is much simpler."

"We did meet. She seemed..." Maalech paused, for the first time unsure what words to use to describe someone. He did not usually discuss things such as this with others. "Interesting" was the word he settled for eventually, and that was quite a positive one for him. "I would have liked to have spoken more at length with her." He had felt at ease around her. That was something that did not happen often.

"Although I do wonder if she would describe her job as being simpler than yours perhaps? I am certain there are as many intricacies with weaving space as there is with weaving the collective consciousness." He was not one to judge there, he knew where his talents lay, and he saw simplicity in what others saw problems, and struggled with things others did with the greatest of ease.

"And in answer to your question, no, I would not like to have the knowledge removed, even if things come to nothing. I have answered that question once, and the answer will not change. I would rather know, than have my life made simpler."

The woman looked amused. "She is a dear thing of herself. She is very aware that she is not a social Aspect and tries to make up for it by being very attentive to those around her. Most people who meet her very rarely think she is anything but extremely mannerly and shy." She shrugged. "To remember, or to forget, would be something better decided when the time itself comes. Here and now, all is still very much hypothetical."