[Alexandria] the taste of sunlight - Tracey

There was something highly amusing about Egypt in the winter. Maybe it was the fact that it was over 20 degrees Celsius and there were Christmas trees up in some shop windows, menorahs in others, and the latest winter-themed songs imported straight from Europe blasting from the radio. Amanj liked the warmer, less wet climate, especially this time of year. While he was not on good terms with his estranged father, he was very close to a number of cousins in his extended family. He was here for one such visit and had only recently taken leave of one of his many relatives to spend a little solitary time at a tea house.

Tea in Egypt was strange, as well. The Iranian-born wizard was use to taking tea in a saucer and sipping it through a sugar cube held between his teeth. This was not how it was done in his father's country of origin, but he had gotten use to the cup arrangement. He never could abide the horribly thick  stuff that was called Saiidi, black and bitter despite the copious amount of sugar added. He preferred the Koshary teas or the herbal tisanes. Right now, in honor of the season, he was drinking a peppermint tisane, the steam curling around his high, sharp cheekbones. His hair was left un-spiked today, slicked back in a more moderate style and tucked under a pork pie hat, a lock of pale sea-green-tipped hair curling from the front and peaking out the back. He was dressed as he always was. His cousin had complimented him on managing to look like he had only dressed in very low light as opposed to complete darkness and he had laughed. Clothing was tricky when you were both eclectic, vain, and blind but Amanj pulled the look off well.

He was just about to bring the cup to his lips when he "saw" something whiz past his ear. Unperturbed, he followed the arc of the object (lipstick case he thought absently) as it landed slightly behind and to the left of him. Amanj felt around in the thick carpet for the wayward item. Locating it, he picked it up and looked around for it's owner. A few tables over, a figure appeared to be searching the ground around their seat for something. Standing, he moved toward them, stopping next to the table. He held out the case, smiling his charming rogue's grin. "I think this may be what you're looking for?" he asked, voice warm and mellow.

@Tracey Davis

Light brown eyes smiled at the waitress who dropped off her coffee, and Tracey murmured her thanks in soft Arabic. She held her hands near the warmth of the pot, humming softly at the soothing feeling. It wasn’t as if she was cold, but she’d been writing for so long, it was as if the warmth was relaxing each of her muscles slowly.  It was a sharp, pinpricky feeling, and it hurt, but it felt so good. Tracey had been focusing on so much serious business that relaxing had been so far from her mind. And with the revelation that she had a cousin…A cousin? A real life related cousin who was a wizard? That didn’t hate her father? She’d been overwhelmed.

Hell, half of her pile of papers consisted of thrown away letters to her cousin. At first she’d been anxious to interrogate him about his life, find out how different it was for him being a muggleborn in Gryffindor, and on his side of the war. Had he struggled? Had she known earlier, would she have been able to help him? Tracey had tried to keep that bit of anxiety out of the letter, uncharacteristic for her person. He wouldn’t know what to do with it? He didn’t know that he was one of the family members close to her that she’d not been able to get in contact with? He didn’t need her emotional burden.

As she finished off the rest of her letter to Dean, she blinked before cursing. As she was beginning to bundle it off, she’d forgotten the most important part. Digging into her bag, she searched for the small jewelry box, ignoring the far away clink as things dropped out of her bag. With an exclamation of triumph, she held up the box, not even bothering to look at the contents. It was a risk, sending a gift to a relative stranger even if he was a relative, but she had no expectations of anything back. It was more of a thank you, if anything. She bundled up the package, and politely asked the girl to owl it off. Then she began searching for whatever that she’d lost in her desperate search for Dean’s gift.

Then a shadow covered her books, and she looked up and stared. Her first thought was ’Tall’ but her second, almost immediate thought focused on the admiration of the man’s jawline. If she had a weakness, (which she didn’t, because she was amazing), it’d be for finely crafted jawlines. She blinked slowly, eyes wide and curious, before the words finally connected with her brain. She reached out absently, her slightly calloused fingertips brushing against his warm hand, as she retrieved her lipstick.

“Thank you.” Tracey murmured softly, pushing a curl out of her face. “I’m pretty sure I would have cried were I have had to pay the ridiculous price I paid to make my lips the same colour they are…” Chuckling softly, she threw the lipstick back into her seemingly bottomless purse, before turning back to her saviour. “I hope I didn’t impale you with it. Tracey Davis. Ministry Peon and student. May I have the pleasure of your name?” She abruptly introduced herself, holding her hand out for him to shake.

When you're blind, the way you interact with people is different, as different as any other part of your life. Amanj would never know what this woman looked like or how she did her hair or what clothing styles she wore. Likewise the arch of her eyebrows or the color of her eyes would remain a mystery.

His initial impression of people was linked to sound and smell. This woman had a melodic voice, smooth and confident. She seemed not at all flustered by the situation or Amanj's appearance. Merlin only knew how crazy his outfit was today. And she smelled nice, like strange spices and flowers and old books. Her fingers were very lightly calloused, much like his. It meant she worked with her hands, which he found intriguing. Amanj wondered what kind of work she did at the Ministry and what she studied. He was insatiably curious, wanting to pick up as much knowledge as he could. He couldn't see, so information helped him paint a more accurate picture of the world around him.

A pretty puzzle, he thought to himself as he shook her hand. His grip was firm but not aggressive, his hand large and just slightly warm from the teacup he had been holding. "Amanj Namdar. Circus performer and vagabond, among other things," he added with a broad smile. "I'm glad to have been able to retrieve your lipstick for you. Women suffer enough for beauty without having to pay twice for cosmetics."

Amanj motioned to the empty chair at her table, the smile still playing about his lips. "May I join you? I won't intrude if you're waiting for someone or if you want some solitude but I never like to pass up an opportunity to speak to a new person. It's like an adventure in a conversation." He waited for her response, not wanting to assume his presence would be either wanted or appreciated. He liked meeting new people, making new friends but he knew not everyone felt the same way.