“You should rest,” Windwalker nodded sagely, sat back down, inviting
JadedRogue to sit and smoke with her.

JadedRogue grinned, sat down cross legged, unzipped her backpack and
pulled out her computer, resting it on her lap. She took the cigarette
Windwalker passed to her with a quizzical look. She decided to be
friendly and she inhaled deeply, holding the smoke while she passed it
back, before releasing it in a deep satisfied sigh.

Windwalker looked
oddly at the contraption on her lap, light gray and blue with a sticker
that seemed to dance in the sunlight of a creature named ‘Spider-Man.’
What an odd character this one was.
Windwalker sat, legs crossed, a look of contentment on her face.

Jaded
could not resist, a wicked grin spread over her lips as the hat hid her
eyes. The Rogue inside of her couldn’t resist, it was more than she
could take, so she asked.
“So tell me, great guru, what is the meaning of life?” If Windwalker
heard her snicker, she overlooked it.

“Life is not so certain as you think of it, JadedRogue,” the shaman
intoned seriously. “Life is a series of choices, decisions, actions,
each one a stone tossed into the waters, rippling out and creating
reactions as they touch the lives of those around them, altering their
choices, decisions, actions in turn, in small ways or large. Ripples,
you see. Life is a river of possibilities only, being created and
recreated moment by moment. Life is governed by circumstance. It cannot
be directed so easily as we believe. Or as easily as we wish.”

“Woah,” Jaded nodded appreciatively, “that’s deep. I think I might
drown in that.” Her forehead furrowed, eyes narrowed in thought. Her
head snapped up, a grin curving the corners of her mouth as she cracked
her fingers.

“AHA!” She cried, powered up the machine and began rapidly tapping the
keys. She turned on the music on the quick machine, 12 Stones blared
out of the small powerful speakers, Windwalker grimacing at the noise
until she grew accustomed to it. Jaded finished typing with a flourish
and a grin, folded her arms and sat back, waiting, as the machine began
to hum.

“What are you doing?” Windwalker asked, worry scrawling across her dark
face.

“Nothing,” Rogue smiled innocently, she’d seem to have been struck with
a notion. She would have tried batting her eyes, but figured it would
be a wasted effort on someone so dense she didn’t even understand basic
slang. She kept tossing glances at Windwalker, knowing she was old, but
wondering how old
the woman was. Older than the lore she spoke of more than likely.