Re: [Closed] The Miles Won't Phase Me
Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2020 5:28 pm
Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2720
West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum
West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum
Aremu nodded. “For learning their letters and numbers,” he told Aurelie. “It’s very different than,” his face twitched solemn, and he veered away, for all he wished he had managed it earlier. “It’s a day school, normally four days a week,” Aremu explained. “Some of them might go on to Thul’Amat, though it’s rarer from places like this. Land owning imbali in Laus Oma or elsewhere would employ governesses and tutors, more like how things are done in Anaxas.”
“All the instruction is done in Estuan,” Aremu went on, smiling at Aurelie. “So almost everyone speaks some, at least.”
He had left off the talk of school when Ahura came back in. He wasn’t sure how much to say, whether it was really interesting to her; it seemed strange to him to describe it so, for all that he understood the way of things in Anaxas well enough to bridge some of the gaps, at least.
The worst was how easy it seemed to be to stray into his childhood around her. He found himself wanting to say things better left unsaid, for all that he had long since know better. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and the words just sort of started to come. He didn’t know why; he didn’t know if he wanted to reassure her or himself. My childhood was more like yours, I think, he could have said, easily. Not like this. He thought she understood that, already, but he didn’t know, either, and even to ask seemed strange.
He knew, already – from her sharp, sudden surprise at the idea that passives could own property – that the differences went deeper than he had quite realized. It made sense, of course; why should a person kept behind red brick walls their whole life be able to own property? What he hadn’t realized was that that, too, would be so different for her, that she might never have imagined such things.
There was a tight look on Aurelie’s face, beneath her smile, when she thanked them, after her wide-eyed protests. It’s no trouble, Aremu wanted to say, but he wasn’t quite sure how. We’re glad to, too, seemed wrong somehow, although he couldn’t quite have said why. Aurelie’s cheeks were red, too, beneath the freckles and the shade of the hat. Ahura glanced at him, and he met her gaze for a moment, glancing back down at Aurelie.
There was not so much more to discuss today, and Aremu didn’t want to keep Ahura; from the smell, he knew she was making something which would be ready before too long, and unless he missed his guess there would be hungry children eager to eat it before long. He took Aurelie back out of the small, cool hut; against the wall of the other house was a pile of bookbags and hastily removed clothing, and not so distantly they heard the whoops and shrieks of small voices raised in laughter.
“The village isn’t close enough to the shore to be flooded,” Aremu explained, leading Aurelie back along the path into the small patch of woods, towards the other half of Dzide’rig, “but there’s a cove just through those trees,” he pointed, “which runs along both sides. It’s a natural harbor, which I think is why there’s a village here to begin with.”
Before they started down into the human side, Aremu stopped, turning to look at Aurelie in the woods. “Is everything all right?” He asked, gently. His hand hovered, and then didn’t quite settle against her arm, lowering instead back down to his side. Do you want to go back to the house? He nearly asked. I can come back and get the vegetables myself, he wanted to say. He didn’t; he could have, and he didn’t. He thought she would tell him, if it was too much; perhaps it was only that he wanted so badly to believe that she would.
“All the instruction is done in Estuan,” Aremu went on, smiling at Aurelie. “So almost everyone speaks some, at least.”
He had left off the talk of school when Ahura came back in. He wasn’t sure how much to say, whether it was really interesting to her; it seemed strange to him to describe it so, for all that he understood the way of things in Anaxas well enough to bridge some of the gaps, at least.
The worst was how easy it seemed to be to stray into his childhood around her. He found himself wanting to say things better left unsaid, for all that he had long since know better. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and the words just sort of started to come. He didn’t know why; he didn’t know if he wanted to reassure her or himself. My childhood was more like yours, I think, he could have said, easily. Not like this. He thought she understood that, already, but he didn’t know, either, and even to ask seemed strange.
He knew, already – from her sharp, sudden surprise at the idea that passives could own property – that the differences went deeper than he had quite realized. It made sense, of course; why should a person kept behind red brick walls their whole life be able to own property? What he hadn’t realized was that that, too, would be so different for her, that she might never have imagined such things.
There was a tight look on Aurelie’s face, beneath her smile, when she thanked them, after her wide-eyed protests. It’s no trouble, Aremu wanted to say, but he wasn’t quite sure how. We’re glad to, too, seemed wrong somehow, although he couldn’t quite have said why. Aurelie’s cheeks were red, too, beneath the freckles and the shade of the hat. Ahura glanced at him, and he met her gaze for a moment, glancing back down at Aurelie.
There was not so much more to discuss today, and Aremu didn’t want to keep Ahura; from the smell, he knew she was making something which would be ready before too long, and unless he missed his guess there would be hungry children eager to eat it before long. He took Aurelie back out of the small, cool hut; against the wall of the other house was a pile of bookbags and hastily removed clothing, and not so distantly they heard the whoops and shrieks of small voices raised in laughter.
“The village isn’t close enough to the shore to be flooded,” Aremu explained, leading Aurelie back along the path into the small patch of woods, towards the other half of Dzide’rig, “but there’s a cove just through those trees,” he pointed, “which runs along both sides. It’s a natural harbor, which I think is why there’s a village here to begin with.”
Before they started down into the human side, Aremu stopped, turning to look at Aurelie in the woods. “Is everything all right?” He asked, gently. His hand hovered, and then didn’t quite settle against her arm, lowering instead back down to his side. Do you want to go back to the house? He nearly asked. I can come back and get the vegetables myself, he wanted to say. He didn’t; he could have, and he didn’t. He thought she would tell him, if it was too much; perhaps it was only that he wanted so badly to believe that she would.