Tales of a Moroccan Kinght
Title Tales of a Moroccan Knight
Rating PG-13
The market square was busier than usual - throngs of people trying to make their way through the opportunistic hawkers
and the water sellers dressed in their outrageously garish outfits - no doubt
making far more money charging the tourists for photographs than they ever
would selling ladles full of drinking water. Xander leaned back in his seat and
watched the crowd of tourists mix with the throng.
It never ceased to amuse him how animated the locals would become whenever a
tourist coach pulled up. Maybe these foreigners with their too-bright clothes
and their cameras apparently permanently attached to their eyes thought they
were seeing Moroccan life as it really was - that the hawkers were always so
loud and always spoke in that broken pidgin English that sounded so quaint and
'otherworldly'. After all, it had taken him an hour of sitting in this same
seat to notice the pattern for himself. The truth was, though, for the better
part of the day these people were just getting through the day - same as anyone
else.
He smiled a little as he realised that he had just moved himself out of the
'foreigner' category. It had only been two months since he stepped onto the
tarmac at Tangier Airport with no clue why he'd agreed to come here. As soon as
he had walked out of the terminal he'd wondered what the hell he'd been
thinking by coming here - yes, he'd wanted to do something completely different
- something he'd never have had the chance to do any other time. But still...
Africa.
Yeah, this definitely fit into the 'completely different' category. Everything
was alien - he didn't fit in here, this wasn't, and could never be, home. And
didn't that just segue straight into thoughts of other places he could never
call home. Everything he'd ever known was at the bottom of a very large crater
- unstable tectonic activity they were calling it now. Inevitable given the
geographic location really. The so-called experts had shaken their heads sagely
and said it was just to be expected, as they had packed up their samples and
left.
There had been no talk of rebuilding the town, no power-mad maniacal
wannabe-demonic-mayors showed up talking of regeneration - the survivors all
packed up whart they could and got as far away as possible. Some of them no
doubt making new homes where they stopped.
And he had come to Africa.
"I'm bored - what time is it?" He stopped scanning the square and
turned to answer the question.
"About two minutes after you last asked." His smile felt false but he
doubted she would pick up on that. "You know, they've managed to shrink
clocks down to a size you could wear on your wrist - you might want to look
into that."
"Why bother? It's not like I care what time it is - only reason I'm asking
is 'cause I'm bored." Faith propped her feet up on one of the spare chairs
at the corner table they were occupying. The café front was open to the square
giving the illusion of being a pavement café while keeping the customers shaded
from the sun. Xander had come here every day since he'd found the place and
would spend hours just watching people in silence. It felt almost like... not
home, but maybe like a long-term rental lease with an option to buy.
Of course, the chances of Faith letting him get away with people-watching today
were pretty much nil. Sure enough, as if on cue she dropped her feet to the
ground and leaned forward, elbows on the table, and stared at him.
"Talk to me."
He sighed, "About what?"
"Anything," she said. "Seems like we never really talk. 'fact,
now I think about it, I don't think we said two words to each other back in the
'Dale."
He shrugged and looked down at the tea glass in front of him. "Yeah,
'cause we have so much to talk about - maybe the good old times... Oh, wait!
That's right - our old times don't exact count as 'good' do they?" The
bitterness in his voice was something he hadn't really expected and he almost
apologised. Almost. Instead he picked up the glass he'd been examining and took
a long swallow. Sometimes he really wished alcohol wasn't illegal in this
country. Immediately the thought crossed his mind he shook his head, yeah 'cause
that would make a fantastic impression on Anika's aunt. God he hated this - it
was like meeting a new girlfriend's family except less of the honourable
intentions questions and more along the lines of 'is she going to die?' And
he'd thought it would be simpler if there was someone else there to back him
up, someone who knew what this kind of life. And that someone had ended up
being Faith.
The silence that had developed was threatening to deafen him. Eventually he
looked up to see her still watching him, evaluating him. He shifted a little in
his seat, suddenly not feeling so comfortable in this little corner of Jemaa
l-Fna square. As he opened his mouth to say the automatic sorry he had tried to
suppress she stopped him.
"Tell me a story."
"A story? What is this, Sesame Street?"
She grinned but it looked false to Xander. "Nah, s'just - look, don't
worry about it, it's just something..." She stopped and looked down.
"Forget it."
Putting the empty glass down he reached over and touched her arm, wondering a
little at the way she tensed instantly, "Hey. What is it?"
She leaned back in her chair, breaking the contact, and looked out over the
square. "S'just, stories are important - y'know? Sometimes they're all you
got."
"Oh-kay..." He puzzled over that a little, stories were all you had?
How did she come up with that one? Then he remembered the first time he'd met
Faith - the tales she'd told of her Slaying escapades on the road to Sunnydale,
the story of the Vamp Wannabe Mafia Don with his pet alligator featuring high
in his memory, and he got it.
It was kinda sweet in a way, her stories back then had made her part of the
gang for a while, connected them all, this was like a second chance.
He racked his brains: jokes, yes; eulogies, maybe; stories? Not so much... Then
an idea struck him and he grinned. "A long time ago," she looked up
with a puzzled frown on her face. He continued undaunted, "In a galaxy
far, far away..." He ducked as she swiped her hand at the back of his head
- blindsiding him no less - and grinned. "Sorry, my stock of scintillating
stories is pretty limited though."
Her frown deepened. "You're kidding, right?"
"No. Why would I have any fascinating fables?"
"Enough with the alliteration already. You lived in Sunnydale all your
life right?" He nodded not sure where she was going with this. "And
you knew what was really going on for a good long time. You still think you've
got no good stories?"
He smiled a little, "I guess if you want to put it like that, I got enough
to make a five or six season TV show, only what network would ever air
it?" His smile faltered, "I don't much talk about Sunnydale though -
still too soon, y'know?"
She nodded, "Yeah, I do." This time it was her who reached across and
patted his hand, albeit a little awkwardly. "So what about later then? I
mean look at you - Africa? S'got to be a tale or two in there. Take a for
instance - how'd you find out about Anika?"
"Ani? Not much of a story - heard some rumours that maybe some vamps were
fixing to settle down in Fez, went to check it out and met her there. Turned
out she was a Slayer and she took down the nest."
Faith rolled her eyes. "Y'know, you suck at telling stories."
He shrugged a little, "That's what happened, what more can I tell you?
"Maybe how she got involved, where you heard the rumours from, how you
knew she was a Slayer? You know - add a little narrative content in there,
maybe even some human interest, *then* you'll have yourself a story,
mister."
Xander smiled, she was really into this whole thing. He checked his watch,
still another hour or so before Anika was due to meet them, he had time and
hell, maybe it'd even be fun.
He opened his mouth to speak again but Faith held up a finger to stop him and
turned to catch the waiter's attention. She rattled off an order in fluent
French and as the waiter returned with a large pot of coffee and two cups
Xander was still gaping at Faith. "How did..."
"That's a story for another time." She said. "Tell me Anika's
tale."
So he did.
...to be continued in Anika's Tale...
all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.