---- Recall start ----

Xandra is walking Mal in the park again.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 40 degrees 
Fahrenheit (4 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south 
at 22 mph, with gusts up to 31 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.47 
and steady, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 39 degrees 
Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

The wind swoops up the river, whipping the grass about in its wake, and 
flinging tiny rain pellets at those in its path. Clouds cover the tiny moon, 
stifling its light.

Mal seems used to the weather, and Xandra seems unaffected by it, a windbreaker 
snugged over her. She does glance in the direction of the moon once, and then 
down the meadow.

The red and white lights of traffic over the bridge form a ribbon of electric 
lights. Behind, back in the more civilised area of the park, the fountain's 
plywood manor rattles to itself.

Xandra keeps Mal close to her, as relaxed as she seems. No running about off 
leash tonight.

The reflection of the bridge lights on the river ripple, the only area of the 
river that's really visible, although the sounds of the water lapping hungrily 
at the shore are clearly audible to one standing anywhere near it.

Xandra guides Mal a little closer to the water, her hand dipping into her 
pocket to touch something there.

A dark figure appears from under the bridge, at the edge of the band of light 
cast from above, moving across it slowly.

Xandra's fingers tighten on Mal's leash and she looks carefully into the 
blackness directly ahead of her as she pulls a tissue-wrapped parcel from her 
jacket pocket.

The figure moves out further into the light. It appears human-formed, and it 
appears to be walking across the surface of the river. It is bent forward, and 
carries something in its arms.

Xandra tells Mal absently, "Sit. Stay," and accompanies the command with a 
gentle touch. Then she drops the leash and unwraps the parcel; her hands are 
shaking just a touch. The tissue falls away and the smudged blur of pale 
resolves into two bruised white roses.

The figure continues its slow, steady trudge downstream. It nears the far side 
of the patch of light now, as a gust of wind howls down the river and tugs at 
the flowers.

Xandra starts to put the flowers on the riverbank, but as the wind tugs at 
them, she rises to her feet again and opens her hand, letting the flowers be 
taken by the air to the figure.

The flower petals flow over her hands, spilling onto the ground and into the 
river, making their way downstream or downbank as they land. Their white forms 
seem to almost glow in the darkness around them.

Xandra sighs, watching the petals as they flow away. Her hand comes up to brush 
at her hair and then she hugs her arms to her chest, letting the rain spatter 
her face.

The figure continues moving down the middle of the river, out of the light. 
Hints of its presence can be seen, and its path constructed as it moves.

Mal whines impatiently, uncertain what his mistress is doing. Xandra crouches 
down beside the dog, hugging him to her, and explains softly, "I don't know 
what else to do except watch. A haunting's a message, even if she doesn't talk, 
see."

The figure moves along the river's surface slowly, passing the girl's location 
and continuing onward.

Xandra thoughtfully begins to pace alongside the river edge, straining to see 
the lady's path and follow it.

Bits and glances, suggestions and hints. Until the form is nearly even with the 
fountain. There she stops.

Xandra stops too, concentrating on the lady fiercely. She slips down to a 
crouch again, heedless as always of the mud on her jeans.

Another howling gust of wind, and the figure falls forward. She lays sprawled 
on the surface of the river, then... she disappears. She may have sunk into the 
water, or simply dissolved and been carried away on the wind.

Xandra was more prepared for it this time, and so only a whimper escapes 
through white lips. Down to the very edge of the river she goes, leaving her 
dog on the bank, and she stares into the water as if it's taken /her/ soul.

No trace remains of the mysterious figure, just the river kissing the shore and 
a girl alone in the darkness.

Xandra sighs heavily after a while and, calling back her straying dog, goes to 
lurk around the benches for a time. Eventually, she goes home.

---- Recall end ----

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