picknicking

[dark_light]

There's something unutterably pleasant about landing in a bit of woods in the middle of Nowhere, Manitoba, removing a sandwich and an apple from her backpack and having a picnic before she's ready to move on. She could eat in midair, but it makes it too likely that she'll drop something and find it unrecoverable.

Path's on her knee, and her cloudpine is propped up against the tree next to her.

Comments

[prodigal_miser]

He pauses, and tilts his head. Then he smiles, just a little faintly. "Zeviana would like it, here."

[dark_light]

"Yeah?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Yeah. My sister's had an ongoing problem with people having a problem with her preferring women," he says, still smiling.

[dark_light]

"There's still a lot of that. But progress is underway."

[prodigal_miser]

"That's better than the situation on New Kystle right now. What with her being expected to have children, and all. With or without her permission."

[dark_light]

"There's such a thing as sperm donation, here. Without any necessity of paternal involvement. All very medical. If it's men and not children that she objects to."

[prodigal_miser]

"As far as I know, it's men, but I doubt she wants children right now either. I'll let her know, next chance I get, if she does in the future."

[dark_light]

Isabella nods. "Your language spell - will it work on me when I visit?"

[prodigal_miser]

"I'll have to cast it on you, but yes, it will. Sorry, I'd forgotten to tell you, I've gotten used to it and it's not the kind of thing that draws a lot of attention to itself," he says. "It just felt like talking normally, after practice. I hope my accent hasn't been too bad?"

[dark_light]

"You're quite comprehensible. And I absolutely can't place your accent, you don't sound like you're from some specific place, you just sound extremely and vaguely foreign."

[prodigal_miser]

He snickers. "Good, glad I'm comprehensible. Extremely and vaguely foreign, huh? I'll take it. I am extremely foreign."

[dark_light]

"The very foreignest."

[prodigal_miser]

"Most certainly."

[dark_light]

"Does the spell let you show me a sample of your language or will it override you?"

[prodigal_miser]

"It will not override me. Would you like a sample of my language?"

[dark_light]

"Yes please."

[prodigal_miser]

He looks amused, and then says something in his language. It sounds rather pretty, and neatly displays how his accent works with his language. It's not anything immediately familiar, for obvious reasons, but it certainly sounds like it works well enough in itself. That being said, it is completely incomprehensible to her.

[dark_light]

"Pretty! What'd you say?"

[prodigal_miser]

"I said, 'This is a sentence in my native language. I'm quite sure my accent's normal, here. Unless I'm victim to a very elaborate joke.'"

[dark_light]

"It is a currently popular fashion among linguists to declare no natively acquired accent any more normal than any other."

[prodigal_miser]

"Aha. In that case..."

He switches languages, and says some more things, apparently having a bit of fun.

"There. I said it was the usual accent for where I lived." He adds in a deadpan, "Ha."

[dark_light]

"Do you not have class differences in speaking habits there?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Some, but not particularly huge ones. I did teach myself a second language though, so I could remind myself parts of a spell and not worry as much about anyone listening and being able to figure out a counter-spell fast enough to matter," he says. "Apparently my accent in that one is absolutely atrocious."

[dark_light]

"How big is the population of New Kystle, anyway?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Hmmm. We haven't managed a formal census, but... Over twenty thousand, or so," he winces.