Fishing for Redheads (open)

Water reminded Azalea of the events of Mungu Island, and she'd found she had an apprehension around it she didn't prior. This bothered her, so she made an effort to walk down the port today.

She expected the smell of salt, all too familiar after her travels, as was the sound of the waves crashing. The ocean had a way of making people pensive, and she was no exception. Today, it reminded her of the journey home, and how silent she'd been. She felt some guilt in how she'd treated Daniel. They'd fought together, and he'd undoubtedly saved her life as much as she had his. She thought often of trying to reach out to him, but had not yet mustered the courage. She'd only recently found enough of it within herself to leave an offering to Tatara, despite her being an abomination in his eyes.

That's when she'd witness a scene further down the dock. A young woman seemed to have stolen a hat from one of the dockworkers, and now made a spectacle of leaping from boat to boat. She worried for her safety, and found herself rushing after her, even though there was little she'd be able to do to help her if something did happen.

She found, since the events in the Jiwa Desert, that she felt protective of the living. Perhaps it was the lingering guilt that she could not prevent the deaths of the convoy she'd haunted, or an appreciation for life that only one without it could have, but she had mused, in her and Samuel's apartment, on how it effected her a time or two. After all, when you don't need sleep, you have far too much time to reflect.

The woman seemed too busy looking back to realize that she had run out of boats, and Azalea was filled with fear as the woman fell in to the ocean. She'd allow herself to float through and under the dock and would float towards where the girl had fallen only for her to suddenly appear from underneath the water just mere feet in front of her, startling her. Azalea was grateful she was incorporeal. She'd hear the girl's words and concern, and after the men had scattered she'd float through the dock once more, light her Lantern, and lean over the edge of the dock to extend a hand toward the woman, careful to hook herself on one of the many support beams that protruded up from the walking surface, which would reach down to the ocean floor beneath them both.

"Hey, if you need a hand miss, this might be the only one you get for a while." She'd joke. She didn't normally consider herself a humorous person, but the mischievous events she'd witnessed put her in a mood to match. The hand that reached down seemed unnaturally pale, and a purple light now glowed through the cracks of the dock.

Azalea would ignore the comment about her lantern, and would instead stand only to find her companion was taller. Azalea couldn't help but smile. She'd been blessed to meet so many tall women since her death, it seemed. If she didn't know better, she'd think Tatara didn't want her to return with how blessed she was with such intriguing company. She'd never let anyone know of her secret preference in life. Death had a way of making it easier to appreciate the good things in life, ironically.

She'd find that her eyes were about level with the woman's collarbone, and hesitated as she tried to decide just which direction she wanted her glance to go: up or down. She'd opt for letting her eyes look down a moment before turning her whole face up and looking up at her violet eyes with a slight blush and a smile. The girl was definitely young and carefree, and Azalea was silently thankful that, as a ghost, she no longer had to look her age.

Really, she had quite stunning and unusual eyes, and she felt like saying so, "Violet eyes and long red hair: if it weren't for those legs you got there," she'd noticed that they seemed to go on for some time as she stood, "I'd think I'd just fished up a mermaid of some sort." She'd laugh softly at her own joke, and hoped the young woman did as well.

She'd offer her hand out once more, this time with the clear intent of a handshake, "The name's..." her voice would trail off. She'd never thought of a name to call herself by, besides her birth name. She'd never greeted someone while corporeal before. She realized she should have thought this through sooner. "Sorry," she'd give a weak, nervous laugh, "I guess I zoned out there. It's Azzy."

She'd had a few people try to give her that nickname in the past. She'd always corrected them, but she'd at least respond to it if she was called by it. Hopefully, she wouldn't forget and accidentally snap.

"You?"