The Piper hadn't been in a jungle for the length of his existence. Here was a magical jungle with plants and wildlife the likes of which he'd never seen. He strayed close to the borders at first, getting a feel for the place before he delved in. He kept his presence quiet and reserved, keeping his pipe in his pocket but not bringing it out to play. There was no telling what kind of reaction he might get, or the things he could summon forth with song.
Deep in the jungle he explored hidden pockets, little oasises of magic and mystery. If he thought he could live here he'd have moved in already.
There was another stranger in her jungle. How odd.
She hadn't been sure at first, but soon enough she'd heard him poking around near one of her favorite spots and decided to follow. Her eyes had gone wide not at the color of his skin, but at the color of his hair, red as saffron. Curiosity overrode caution and she revealed herself, melting from the foliage as if by magic and striding right up to the stranger. "Your hair...it's incredible."
He smiled, blushed and nodded in courtesy to the ravishing beauty in his presence. "Not nearly as incredible as you," he replied quietly, shy and corny. It was classic Piper when in the company of women.
She laughed at the compliment as she walked around him as if taking his measure. "That's it. It's a fact. All you foreign men are flatterers!" He was the third such foreigner to greet her with flattering words and, while she knew she was pretty, she didn't consider herself a stunning beauty by any standard. "Your hair, sir. Is it natural?" She reached up to touch it as she passed, fascinated to the point of rudeness.
"I'm all natural," he replied shakily. "Something of an oddity in my homeland, but all of us Piper's are cursed with the red. Not that it's a curse," he added clumsily. "I quite like my peculiar hair and the abilities that go with it."
"A curse?" she queried with an arched brow. "But it's so lovely. And music is a blessing. Surely being flame-headed and gifted with pipes isn't so loathed where you come from?" She tilted her head, brow furrowing. "You mentioned abilities. What did you mean?"
He smiled warmly and pulled his pipe out of pocket. "Not so loathed," he replied, though the rats that were constantly chasing after him were not so abundant here in the woods. The cursed part had nothing to do with his hair, more to do with the little beasts that chased him into the jungle until they were snapped up as food for the real beasts. He played a few notes for the strange lady and smiled. "I'm never completely certain what I might call forth, but I can charm just about anything with a tune."
Hands on hips, she smiled at the little tune. "Could you charm me, then? You play quite well, but I'd have to hear more to be convinced of your talent." Scheherazade had idea what she was asking, no clue as to the true gift of witch the piper spoke. All she thought she was asking for was a song.
"I could try to write you a song," he replied, swinging his pipe lightly through the air. "It might take me some time. You know, composing is no easy art."
"I would not assume such art would be easy, good Piper," she said as she settled herself on a soft bed of vegetation, folding her legs under her skirt. "But I would be honored by the effort." The last was said with a bright, expectant smile. No one had composed a song for her before.
He picked a low, dark note like the color of her hair to start with. The tune moved from note to note, seamlessly blending his imagination and the little he knew of her in the moments they had met. It was sweet, just a little lilting. It crescendoed at the end to a high note, bright like her smile and he smiled as he pulled the pipe away from his lips.
To say Scheherazade enjoyed the tune would be understating matters some. It was lovely, to be sure, but it also held something else, something that charmed and fascinated and had her eyes drifting shut and her body swaying before she realized. As soon as the Piper stopped playing, however, she snapped out of it and her eyes opened. She smiled up at him as if nothing had happened. "Oh, that was lovely. Thank you."
Piper was relatively amazed. He hadn't expected to charm her; his compositions rarely worked so well on the first try, if at all. He smiled brightly. "I would like you to title it. It is your song after all."
Her answering smile was pleased and a faint blush stained her cheeks, though her voice was just as confident and forward as before. "Then I shall call it...Rajani's Song." Because, she thought, it was composed in the jungle and would always bring to mind for her the lush life that dwelled there, more than it would stir thoughts of herself.
"Rajani, that is the name of the jungle, is it not?" he asked. "I was rather hoping I could ask your name with subtlety, but it doesn't seem to be my strong suit."
"It is. And, it's true, Piper, that your song is far more subtle than your words." It was said teasingly, to forestall her comment causing any hurt. "But I have my fill of subtlety everyday, so your manner is refreshing. As for my name...You may call me Aziza."
"Not at all," she protested warmly. "If you have a name, I'd be glad to know it, sir." She was honestly curious. And it was good to know who was heading into her kingdom.
He smiled, one sided and looked towards the ground. "I'm not very fond of my first name and my last name is in fact Piper, so it's completely appropriate to call me that."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Very well, then. Piper it is." she regarded him thoughtfully, "Tell me, Piper, you are headed to Mehrdadstan, yes? Do you intend to stay long?"
"I'm a wanderer by nature, so it's hard to say where I'll go and how long I'll stay. But if it's an invitation to visit I'd certainly take you up on it." He grinned like a school boy, biting the corner of his lips waiting for her reply.
If Scheherazade didn't know any better, she would think the piper was smitten with her. But she knew better and so she simply smiled and said, "Certainly, it's an invitation. Most anyone's welcome in Mehrdadstan."
"We're no more or less welcoming than any other place, I suppose," she said, considering the question. "Though, I confess I haven't been many places so I my guess isn't very informed." Scheherazade smiled up at him. "If you do find Mehrdadstan to your liking, however, I'm sure you'll be welcome as long as you care to linger."
Lingering was something the Piper was good at. He was constantly in the habit of hanging in places when no one had an objection (which was rare when the rats were out in force and driving him bananas). "We will see," he said easily.
"I have no doubt," she said confidently, rising to her feet with almost regal grace. "I hope to see you there, Piper. you wouldn't disappoint me, would you?" It was said with a teasing smile as she wrapped her shawl about her.
"I should hope not," he replied with a charming wink and his usual grin. "Perhaps we will meet and I can play for you again." His intentions for the song were modest. He had no desire to trick a lady into loving him, even if he had the skill. He simply aimed to entertain and please, perhaps winning hearts with his art.
"I would very much like that," she said honestly, flashing the piper another bright smile before collecting herself to go. "It has been a pleasure, Piper. Allah keep you, and may you travel well." With a little way, she started for the brush, steps as silent and as sure as well she'd first appeared.
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