by Auzdein von Himmler
Auzdein had been lying, ghillie adorned in his hide, for the better part of the night and day when he finally spotted the tiny figure appearing near the pinnacle of Belvedere. Until last week's venture into the Park of which he'd heard so much about, he'd had no happenchance or urging to do any sightseeing in the New York realm at all, much less in this expansive public green belt frequented at all hours by the very society he had spent the better part of his life studying and training to forever avoid and shed.
Auz did not shift in the slightest, nor emit any audible breaths. Seldom even blinking as he spied the new target through his honeycomb capped scope, he lay there.. silent as a memory, still as a grave. His predatory eyes focused in on the figure; the flesh around his sclera narrowing and pressing in around the lenses ever so slightly, sealed within the rubber valve affixed to the near end of the cylindrical, telescopic device. His free eye remained opened to catch anything in his cone of view and its peripheral. Extremely elongated, deep, slow breaths kept his heart rate below 50 bpm. He was almost in a meditative state, all the while imagining the feeling of his creeping trigger finger squeezing off silenced rounds, and the sight of faces caving in and craniums erupting in shock waves of chunky reds, pink, hair clumps, and gray. The fantasies halted when he zoomed in on the figure's face.
Her skeletal structure under such a featureless and well kept epidermis was simultaneously pacifying and lust summoning. He felt the energy bubbling up and darting through his nervous system and veins. Her face was that of a timeless deity, like unto that of something which Leochares himself might chisel and fashion. He felt the soft electric stirring sensation deep within his loins. Gluteals, perineum, and erectors all flexed in symphonic succession. Then his training came back to him, as did his prayers; now was not the time, he chastised himself in thought, to be having visions of bonding with an Outlander. Another deep, slow, full breath in and out... His consciousness returned to flexing the ocular muscles; his focal point to her mannerisms. The observation continued.
He made mental note of how she stood with such an aristocratic and bold air, defying the chilling wind as if certainly she had either been raised or thoroughly trained and conditioned above the arctic circle. New Yorkers endured their share of the single digits, but were by and large an indoors people. Was she from the Lakes, the Canada nation, perhaps the Scandinavian peninsula? He, for a fleeting moment, wished he had brought along his gauntlets, that he might already have been shown the data to answer those pressing inquiries.
He caught himself entranced in tracing the way her eyebrows ebbed and arched their way out, up, and around, reminding him of the elegant Arabic serifs. 'Fe-line,' he thought, nodding minutely to himself; she looked markedly like a humanoid wild cat. Knowing little of those who had come to the Earth during and since the Shift, he dismissed this, giving back in a bit to the graceful defiance of her stance and form. Maybe there was dryad, siren, or nymph mixed in her blood.
She reached up and tucked away a few curling locks, whose polychromatic blend of platinum and wheat blondes equally captured him. This creature couldn't possibly be an Outlander. She was too pure, too majestic.. His inspecting gaze narrowed. The way her eyes remained stationary, appearing slightly out of focus at times, suggested she was imagining something. Was it nostalgia, her private calling, an upcoming event? It didn't matter; Auz keyed in on the absence of any foot traffic sounds within his range. The scope snailed forward, allowing both his eyes to dart around, confirming his privacy and newfound ability to exfiltrate from the hide.
Remaining in the shadow ribbons of the underbrush 'neath the canopy, he eerily inched and eased up from his prone position, shifted his center of gravity, and finally stood into a hunched, creeping posture, stepping off to snake and weave his way through the tree trunks. On the east border of The Great Lawn of six baseball diamonds, he quickly band-stepped across the foot path, re-entering the green belt on the other side, and made his way south-south-west, crossing another partially concealed foot path bisecting his route over to the southern edge of Turtle Pond. Keeping his path between that tiny body of water and the 79th Street Transverse Road, he reached the sloping masonry of Belvedere.
Avoiding dry foliage and twigs, as well as the common habit of bouncing when walking or jogging, he was able to close the final distance nearly as well as the agile, stalking beasts. By now, the scope had been rolled up in the ghillie he had shed during his rise and brief trek, and the tight pair of those items was quietly on its way into his small backpack, with the pack sliding back into place to nestle and rest upon his shoulder. Casual, matte black, jogger's trousers and wind breaker were revealed, along with Nike Free 7.0 sneakers. His own mane of wavy, flowing, earth tones now descended around his face and neck, cascading lazy curls to his shoulders and their blades; the strands alongside his cheeks and eyes held back only by a comfortably snug, cloth headband. A wizard's goatee and mustache completed this look, and left him resembling the classical renderings of Moses or Noah in their younger years. The hunter had transformed en-transit to the peasant park jogger.
Auz rounded the base of Belvedere and easily and energetically bounded up the graying slab steps. He caught sight of the cockatrice-sporting transom along the way, which cast pangs of lugubriousness through his being, leaving his muscles cool and flexing, and a warm gulp traveling down his throat. He longed to again encounter and converse with the creatures of that wrongfully forgotten time.
The picturesque, apparent demi-goddess, standing still along the uppermost construct of the castle, then turned toward him right as he slowed his ascent to a respectful halt. His rearward heel finished coming together alongside his foremost. Eyes locked. There was an instinctive pause where he chose whether or not to rush forward in attack, or honor her in a different way. One hand moved to rest upon his lower abdomen, the other flowed out with his left arm hanging at a slight angle about his side. Keeping his eyes peering deeply into hers across the distance between them, he bowed slowly at the waist, then returned at the same pace to his kingly posture, intrigued as much by her physique as what she would choose to do next...
Dr. Auzdein von Himmler
Governor of Inisfree