He still wasn't quite grasping the entire concept of this whole 'dream-walking' thing. Was it essentially entering the dreams of others while in a trance? From what Gale described, it didn't seem much more than being a voyeur in another sense. Gale gave a nod, to confirm his conjecture. "Yes, it is like that. In the realm of dreams, a dream-walker can indeed leave the boundaries of their own mind to enter the collective stream of consciousness–the river of dreams that connects the world of all sentient beings. It is like walking, but in spirit." Now less puzzled he exhaled sharply as it was all hard to take in. "Is that so… Well then, I'll just leave it at that. It's an out-of-body experience in another plane of existence." The girl nodded again, not quite realizing he was making a statement of confirmation than asking for further input. "Yes, that is so." She was very polite, but in some ways she was a bit…odd. Not in a foolish way, but perhaps lacking in social graces and context. For the most part she didn't miss social cues, unless they weren't obvious. Gerard brushed it off as being attributed to Gale's overall inexperience with the world.

The foghorn of a ship blared, and he quickly looked to the harbor only to see that a ship was leaving, instead of docking. Another false alarm, how regrettable. At least talking with Gale made the wait much more tolerable. Otherwise, he'd be in fits by now. Just a little longer, he said to himself. Soon the ship would come sailing in. It was on its way, and certainly was not anchored at the duchy or stuck at some kind of standstill whatsoever. Yes, that was right. It was just late. Better late than never, as they said. Even though personally he'd rather not have it late at all. For the girl's sake, he would be patient. Patience was a virtue after all–and he wasn't one without virtue. It was becoming easier to speak with Gale as time passed, and he began to move onto more personal topics. "So what things do you like, Gale? Do you have a favorite color, a favorite book, or perhaps something else that you are fond of?" Well look at him, being all social. It was almost as if he were talking with a friend, not someone he had met for less than an hour's worth of time. That said he didn't exactly have many people he considered friends, so what did that have to say about the depth of his social circles? 

Gale went quiet for a while, her head bowed as if thinking a great deal. Surprisingly the simplest of questions had become the most difficult to answer. What did she like? That was hard to say. She wasn't especially picky, and had been taught to learn to appreciate what she had and to see the silver lining of every cloud–no matter how big or small. She thought, and she thought, but could not come up with a definitive answer for the first few questions. What was her favorite color? She didn't have any preferences. She knew some colors looked better on her than others, but she didn't have very strong feelings about them. What was her favorite book? The dream-walker did not have a great deal of access to many tomes of literature back in Karkhata, as books were prized possessions that only the wealthiest of the wealthy could own in large quantities. She didn't have enough to base an opinion on.

The last question was more feasible to answer. Things she was fond of? She was fond of many things, but only a few did she consider strong enough to be granted special priority. "…Things I am fond of. If I were to say, it would be dreaming, listening to stories, and watching the clouds. I do like to read stories too, but I haven't had much of a chance to do that. I also like the morning sun when it rises at dawn, and the rosy sunset at dusk. The warmth of the sun's light during the day, the fragrance of blooming flowers…the sound of bells and strings that make music. I enjoy watching people dance and sing, and when they paint with many colors. I have tried using charcoal and ink to draw, but I have never learned to paint." There were probably many more things she could list, things she could say in her answer–but her words could not fit them all. Not wanting to give a reply flippantly, she took a pause to consider more seriously.

"…I am surprised that I can think of so many things, but there is one that is above the others. My teacher, Master Rashaad al-Halim. He was a father to me; he taught me the art of walking in dreams and all that I know. He is wise, and a man of honor. A respectable man amongst his fellow scholars and sages." The last of her words brought a twinge of sadness in her. She missed her teacher dearly, as she missed home. Master Rashaad had told her that 'home' was a place that you always held in your heart and longed to return to no matter how far away you were. She had found many places that were like Karkhata, but none could take its place in her heart. There was always that small difference that set it apart.  

Her interests were rather airy-fairy for someone so placid as she. Though a few of them were not too surprising, based on prior information she had given. Gerard could succinctly summarize her personality into a single phrase: a dreamer. She was a dreamer, in every sense of the word. Both literally and in mindset, she had her head in the clouds. But she wasn't an idle dreamer, more like a free-thinking philosopher who thought of many different subjects all at once. She wasn't fickle or troublesome, content with the simple things in life. This was one of her more practical traits out of the rest of her daydreaming nature. He could easily see why she could embody both sagacity and openness simultaneously. She had received occupational training from youth, likely in some field not unlike the ascetic monks in monasteries. Though she wasn't isolated from the world, just sheltered. She had a respect for the natural world and had a true appreciation for the arts, both earning her points in his book. No wonder he got along with her so well.

Although they couldn't be more different in temperament, they had a lot in common. And last but not least, she showed she understood humility and respect towards others. Her admiration for her mentor was not blind or fanatical, but of a rare example of the ideal master-apprentice relationship. After hearing Gale describe her teacher Rashaad al-Halim, Gerard wanted to meet him in person too. If this man had been her mentor, he was sure he'd get along with him just as well. Wise men were few and far between in this day and age where knowledge was so readily available to anyone with a passing fancy. He detected the hint of sorrow at the end of her words, sensing her homesickness and longing. How could he blame her? Here she was, a young girl all alone in a strange place where nothing was familiar. No matter how comfortable she would be, of course if she had the choice she would want to return home. This was a phenomenon that was growing more common these past decades. People from other worlds and planes were being dropped into Revaliir by mysterious means in a one-way trip with no way to return. Perhaps the gods would know more about why that was, but that didn't matter right now.

"I see…I didn't mean to dredge unpleasant memories back up. So you're an 'other-worlder' then? Seems people like you are becoming more common these days. It must have been hard for you, adjusting to a new environment like a fish out of water." He quickly decided to change the subject, in case the girl started to shed tears. He had his hand in his coat pocket with his handkerchief ready in case that were to happen. "Oh right, you said some of your interests included singing and dancing? If you don't mind, could you show me some of the folk dances of your homeland and any of your traditional songs?" Focusing on her interests would make her happier, and he didn't want to see her upset. She had enough time to dwell on unhappiness as is. And besides, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. 

"Songs… Oh, I remember one. We used to sing this one when the others and I went out to play in the streets in the warm afternoons. Allow me to sing it for you." The dream-walker bowed, before beginning her performance.

'Hila ya Rumana, 
Who is she that is offended?
Arina is the one that is offended,
Who is going to comfort her? 
Her father is going to comfort her;
He will make earrings for her,
And a ring and a necklace.

The smile of the beautiful girl made her more sweet;
When other saw her appear, no one was able to close their eyes.
Oh my soul, my life and my love–
I was bored from my impatience and my soul longs to see you.'

As Gale sang, she danced. Moving her arms in a sweeping motion then bringing them up high, she then brought them down low to the ground. Her hands took her sash that was tied around her waist and with each end in hand, the cloth fluttered like a brightly colored wave in the air. The dance was smooth, graceful, with slow turns. It was a sweet song, and her voice was clear. Gerard watched quietly, taking out a tambourine. At opportune moments he would add the percussion instrument's sound to accentuate the end of a line or a turn in her movement. When she finished, she bowed deeply with her sash held behind her.

When she concluded her performance, Gerard gave her a round of applause. It was a love song, a common subject in folk music regardless the place of origin. "A wonderful performance. You must practice often." Gale wrapped her sash back around her waist, and fixed her vest and tunic. "Thank you. Whenever I sing and dance, I am reminded of home. Though I have never learned how to make music like you." "Each to their own. Everyone has something they're more adept at. I've never been much of a dancer myself." The deep bellow of a foghorn sounded again, and Gerard was tempted to ignore it. It was then that Gale turned and pointed. "There is a big ship coming in the harbor. Could that be the one you are waiting for?" He looked, and lo and behold–the tell-tale flags of the passengers' ferry was gliding into the docks. He heard the shouts of the people on deck announcing the ship's arrival at the pier. With a splash, the anchors were dropped and the gangplank lowered. People came down into the docks and passed by the guard station to be given clearance to enter. 

The bard was packing up his violin and tambourine, getting ready to go. He then stopped, realizing Gale was still beside him. "Are you planning on boarding?" He asked. Gerard wasn't sure if she was staying here or had a destination in mind. The fiery-haired girl shook her head. "No, I will be staying here." The bard felt a spot of guilt for leaving her behind so soon, but the ship wouldn't remain anchored forever. "…Alright then. I'll be going now, Gale. It was a pleasure to meet you. Keep yourself safe no matter wherever you go, you hear?" The dream-walker nodded in return. "Yes, I could say the same to you too Mister Gerard. I will keep your words to heart and in my memory." As he stood on the deck of the ship by the railing, he saw her wave to him as the ship prepared to disembark. "May the winds be at your back, always!" She shouted. He waved back, and watched as she drew smaller and smaller until the port was out of sight. 

The cold winds blew as they began to enter southern waters. Within a few hours they would be within view of the island duchy. Soon, he would be on another craft sailing further south to the ice island where someone was waiting for him.