Lee Jheon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixwordstories2013-12-15 04:38 pm
mind_overmatter) wrote in sixwordstories2013-12-15 04:38 pm
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Make that one ale, one water.
Well. Lee's not used to such a title, but she's not one to laugh at pride for your family. So even though there's a moment of hesitation, born entirely of honest surprise, she ends up nodding to the name. She's gonna just stick with 'Ayleth' when she addresses her, though.
"It's not a problem." It feels too strange to say you're welcome to that, when she hasn't even done anything. "I...like helping. And I'm hardly busy. Can't hurt to help the friend of a friend." Or...friend of a friend of a friend. Sounds like Ayleth and Cynric aren't overly close.
Um. This is the point where small talk might happen, isn't it? Bridging distances between people with words? "What's Allontanare like?" ...Not so awkward as some of Lee's attempts at questioning.
"It's not a problem." It feels too strange to say you're welcome to that, when she hasn't even done anything. "I...like helping. And I'm hardly busy. Can't hurt to help the friend of a friend." Or...friend of a friend of a friend. Sounds like Ayleth and Cynric aren't overly close.
Um. This is the point where small talk might happen, isn't it? Bridging distances between people with words? "What's Allontanare like?" ...Not so awkward as some of Lee's attempts at questioning.
Someday, she'll ditch her bodyguard and travel solely with Johnny. On that day, she's certain she and Cynric will start to get along much better. It's all a slow, calculated dance of trying to get Julien to stop insisting she needs protection and go home to his own family.
But, well. Ayleth could speak to the fact that the children of witches tended to be just a little tetchy about their families of origin.
Thankfully, intimate friendship with Cynric isn't necessary for small talk. Years of talking to other people who never went on adventures was all the was necessary for small talk. Look how naturally her smile can be snapped into place. "It's lovely. We've had quite a good rash of rainy seasons, so the exports industry has been expanding beyond the copper-ware. It's really one of the more prosperous abbeys in the chain of valleys these days. Have you ever been?"
But, well. Ayleth could speak to the fact that the children of witches tended to be just a little tetchy about their families of origin.
Thankfully, intimate friendship with Cynric isn't necessary for small talk. Years of talking to other people who never went on adventures was all the was necessary for small talk. Look how naturally her smile can be snapped into place. "It's lovely. We've had quite a good rash of rainy seasons, so the exports industry has been expanding beyond the copper-ware. It's really one of the more prosperous abbeys in the chain of valleys these days. Have you ever been?"
"Forbidden for what," Alastair challenges, as it's the first thing that jumps to his mind, but leaves no room for Lee to actually answer his critical query. "I've seen druids take substances far more dangerous for their gods; s'all about what you're drinkin' it for. A tank of ale 'r mead can be just a drink, or it can bring men together despite their disagreements. It can be a balm, a delicacy, even a masterpiece to he who crafts it. That's meant to be shared, not revoked, don't you think?"
Ahh, he stops there before he gets too far on his accidental tangent, pausing and looking back down at the empty container in his hand. It's not a passion for alcohol, but a deeper yearning for freedom and privilege to everything this precious world contains. Alastair possesses a terrible knee-jerk reaction to the word "forbidden."
"Hah...I'm sorry," Alastair chuckles, looking the slightest bit embarrassed. "I s'ppose I feel slighted when someone is barred from something I enjoy. S'like saying you're forbidden t' listen to music, or to indulge in something. You're meant to, 'r else it wouldn't feel so good to. I know I'd hate t' miss out on half the things I enjoy already!"
Ahh, he stops there before he gets too far on his accidental tangent, pausing and looking back down at the empty container in his hand. It's not a passion for alcohol, but a deeper yearning for freedom and privilege to everything this precious world contains. Alastair possesses a terrible knee-jerk reaction to the word "forbidden."
"Hah...I'm sorry," Alastair chuckles, looking the slightest bit embarrassed. "I s'ppose I feel slighted when someone is barred from something I enjoy. S'like saying you're forbidden t' listen to music, or to indulge in something. You're meant to, 'r else it wouldn't feel so good to. I know I'd hate t' miss out on half the things I enjoy already!"
"Sitting around just talking while not inebriated can also bring men together despite their disagreements. Or maybe they're even better off just avoiding each other all together." She snaps easily, a scowl strong in her jaw, dark eyes going back to her own water that she drinks down just to be contrary. Arguments are fine, bring them on, she's used to having different views from her traveling friend.
Her stomach slowly clenches as she realizes there's no need for so much venom. She's not even mad at him, or alcohol. She snorts as he talks, flustered amusement all around. "I guess neither of us is actually talking about alcohol." She bites her lower lip in thought. "It's not like that to me. Keeping a strict set of rules gives me a sense of-- of belonging, of doing or not doing the same things as people who I'm considered...like family for." The monastery is a close-knit group, or at least in her mind it is. Competition runs rampant, especially between schools of thought trying to show off their skills between monks, but it's a friendly jostle to Lee. The practice of non-attachment never came too strongly to her.
That fact, that fault, is probably to blame for her weakening hatred for the specific act of alcohol consumption. "I can do what I want, Alastair." It's a sighed reassurance. She feels that he cares for her, she really does, and hopefully the look she shifts his way conveys that. Her anger's clearly dissipated just as his did. "It's just... Alcohol, it changes how you perceive things. What's wrong with how I see this room right now, or how-- or how close I feel to you? Why would I need to change what's honestly around me to appreciate it more? ...Does it really help?" Only some elder monks are allowed alcohol in her sect, and it's a for a reason...perhaps similar to the druids Alastair mentioned. There's herbs used, higher up, once the possibility of abuse is completely gone. Lee knows nothing about them except the whispers from the monastery's halls.
Her stomach slowly clenches as she realizes there's no need for so much venom. She's not even mad at him, or alcohol. She snorts as he talks, flustered amusement all around. "I guess neither of us is actually talking about alcohol." She bites her lower lip in thought. "It's not like that to me. Keeping a strict set of rules gives me a sense of-- of belonging, of doing or not doing the same things as people who I'm considered...like family for." The monastery is a close-knit group, or at least in her mind it is. Competition runs rampant, especially between schools of thought trying to show off their skills between monks, but it's a friendly jostle to Lee. The practice of non-attachment never came too strongly to her.
That fact, that fault, is probably to blame for her weakening hatred for the specific act of alcohol consumption. "I can do what I want, Alastair." It's a sighed reassurance. She feels that he cares for her, she really does, and hopefully the look she shifts his way conveys that. Her anger's clearly dissipated just as his did. "It's just... Alcohol, it changes how you perceive things. What's wrong with how I see this room right now, or how-- or how close I feel to you? Why would I need to change what's honestly around me to appreciate it more? ...Does it really help?" Only some elder monks are allowed alcohol in her sect, and it's a for a reason...perhaps similar to the druids Alastair mentioned. There's herbs used, higher up, once the possibility of abuse is completely gone. Lee knows nothing about them except the whispers from the monastery's halls.
Lee is used to listening raptly to things others might find boring. Silence, for one, is a chief thing to pay keen attention to while meditating. Contemplating impossible questions and ruminating over hours-long lessons from elders was all fair game. The history of her temple had been told to her enough times that she'd lost count, and she'd listening at each telling.
But there's something about hearing the words 'exports industry' and 'expanding' and 'prosperous' that is just entirely the opposite of the sort of boring she's used to. So there's no proper defense against eyes glazing slightly or her faintly incredulous stare towards the young girl who just gave her - to Lee - the speech of an affluent merchant trying to impress. "That...sounds good." It's said as though it's a question, as if Lee's not entirely sure that is good except from Ayleth's tone of conveying it. "And no, never been. Or if I did, I never learned the name.
"I meant more...what's the land like? Where do you usually sit when you're outside? Are there animals?" Things that matter. Let's have no more talk of exporting copperware.
But there's something about hearing the words 'exports industry' and 'expanding' and 'prosperous' that is just entirely the opposite of the sort of boring she's used to. So there's no proper defense against eyes glazing slightly or her faintly incredulous stare towards the young girl who just gave her - to Lee - the speech of an affluent merchant trying to impress. "That...sounds good." It's said as though it's a question, as if Lee's not entirely sure that is good except from Ayleth's tone of conveying it. "And no, never been. Or if I did, I never learned the name.
"I meant more...what's the land like? Where do you usually sit when you're outside? Are there animals?" Things that matter. Let's have no more talk of exporting copperware.
"'Course you can do what you want! That's the beauty of it," Alastair agrees, speaking with a different sort of animation: unlike a determined passion, this is now more akin to excitement. "But here's the thing, yeah? You're, you're lookin' at this mountain," he begins, setting one elbow on the bartop and holding his hands out as if grasping the imagery in his mind, "an' you're lookin' at it from the south. It's a nice mountain, y'know, plains and all that. Not a lot of forestry. There's a valley down at the base with a path that leads 'round it, but you're standing here in the south going, 'it's a mountain, I can see it, I know what it is.' What more d'you need t' know?"
The barmaid lingers up to their side and Alastair pauses long enough to hurriedly wave out a polite no with his floating, story-telling hands. "But take that path, not knowing where it leads except you know it heads north. Once you're 'round the mountain you turn, an' you see a complete mountain range behind it--" at this point, Alastair's hands are sweeping over the air between them, "--tall, grand snow-capped peaks. An' since it's taken you all day to trek north, now it's twilight and in the sky, you see the Goddess Lights streaking 'cross the night, because lets just say you happen to be visiting during the Eleint season."
All this to support alcohol consumption? Well... "What I'm trying to get at is, sometimes, it doesn't hurt t' change your perspective. You might see something grandiose, an'..." At long last, Alastair's upper limbs flop down, hands hanging across his thighs, as he shrugs his shoulders. "Sometimes, it's nothing special, at worst, unimpressive. But I've learned that vantage and perspective are incredibly important. You learn a lot by changing 'em."
The barmaid lingers up to their side and Alastair pauses long enough to hurriedly wave out a polite no with his floating, story-telling hands. "But take that path, not knowing where it leads except you know it heads north. Once you're 'round the mountain you turn, an' you see a complete mountain range behind it--" at this point, Alastair's hands are sweeping over the air between them, "--tall, grand snow-capped peaks. An' since it's taken you all day to trek north, now it's twilight and in the sky, you see the Goddess Lights streaking 'cross the night, because lets just say you happen to be visiting during the Eleint season."
All this to support alcohol consumption? Well... "What I'm trying to get at is, sometimes, it doesn't hurt t' change your perspective. You might see something grandiose, an'..." At long last, Alastair's upper limbs flop down, hands hanging across his thighs, as he shrugs his shoulders. "Sometimes, it's nothing special, at worst, unimpressive. But I've learned that vantage and perspective are incredibly important. You learn a lot by changing 'em."
Edited 2014-02-10 00:53 (UTC)
did you really just link to that image DID YOU REALLY JUST
mind_overmatter
2014-02-10 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
--Okay, Alastair has lost her for just a moment, as he invokes the imagery of a mountain. She's seen her fair share, at least, the low rolling and stacking hills of her home continent - not too many craggly abominations like what this one is plagued with - and it's not hard. In fact with the earnest excitement painted so clear on his face, it's not hard at all to settle deeper into her stool and watch him...talk. Animatedly.
Watch him turn down another drink in the form of a fresh-faced barmaid in favor of explaining whatever this is to her.
There's a definite warm sensation at what all this points to. Even if she ends up disagreeing, she enjoys the effort, enjoys the act of exchanging views and ideas. It's even a bit better since they're not at each others' throats over it for the moment. Not to say fighting isn't fun, just...
It doesn't really come with this twitching urge to smile over at his ridiculous showcasing limbs and animated features. "So...does that mean you like to change yours? By giving up alcohol and women every few months to switch it up?" He might think of his transient and debauchery-laden lifestyle as one of constant vantage-changing, but to Lee it's the same old trick with new results each time. He follows his own code the same as she does.
But he's raised such a poetic point. She's looking down and considering her tankard, emptied of her water and in need of a refill. Now just...what to put in it.
Watch him turn down another drink in the form of a fresh-faced barmaid in favor of explaining whatever this is to her.
There's a definite warm sensation at what all this points to. Even if she ends up disagreeing, she enjoys the effort, enjoys the act of exchanging views and ideas. It's even a bit better since they're not at each others' throats over it for the moment. Not to say fighting isn't fun, just...
It doesn't really come with this twitching urge to smile over at his ridiculous showcasing limbs and animated features. "So...does that mean you like to change yours? By giving up alcohol and women every few months to switch it up?" He might think of his transient and debauchery-laden lifestyle as one of constant vantage-changing, but to Lee it's the same old trick with new results each time. He follows his own code the same as she does.
But he's raised such a poetic point. She's looking down and considering her tankard, emptied of her water and in need of a refill. Now just...what to put in it.
Ah, Lee's a clever one. "Well, can't drink ev'ryday, yeah. You've seen me! I might go...a few days 'r so." Gold star, Alastair. (And really, he easily drinks more than he sleeps around, it's hardly as if he's finding a girl every night.)
He eyes Lee's tankard, or more specifically, how she looks down at it tentatively. Smiling, he leans in a few inches, as if to look in at whatever must be so interesting lying at the bottom of the mug.
"Shall I not've shooed her off? I'll buy you another water if you'd like." Dark eyes scan Lee's face, curious, considering. He thinks he might know what might be running through the young woman's mind suddenly, wonders if the thought is even possible. He claps a hand on her shoulder -- or, that's what his brain intended, but his muscles move a little bit slower than typical when there is contact between them. It's likely that for a moment, he mistook tapping her shoulder for holding her hand. "You're right no matter what, Lee: you can do whatever you want."
Geesh, when did drinking become an existential crisis?
He eyes Lee's tankard, or more specifically, how she looks down at it tentatively. Smiling, he leans in a few inches, as if to look in at whatever must be so interesting lying at the bottom of the mug.
"Shall I not've shooed her off? I'll buy you another water if you'd like." Dark eyes scan Lee's face, curious, considering. He thinks he might know what might be running through the young woman's mind suddenly, wonders if the thought is even possible. He claps a hand on her shoulder -- or, that's what his brain intended, but his muscles move a little bit slower than typical when there is contact between them. It's likely that for a moment, he mistook tapping her shoulder for holding her hand. "You're right no matter what, Lee: you can do whatever you want."
Geesh, when did drinking become an existential crisis?
shh shh shorter tags happen and don't be ridiculous <3
mind_overmatter
2014-02-10 01:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Another water - her eyes are narrowed up at him for only a moment before there's no joke detected. For a breath it's just them both lining the other up, trying to read one another's face.
It's that sudden honesty that does it. It's the admission of permission she doesn't need but which she loves knowing he feels, considering how dedicated he is to his own freedom. It's that respect that tips the scales for her curiosity and makes this...
Safe.
"...What about a-- a mead, is that what you said you're drinking?"
It's that sudden honesty that does it. It's the admission of permission she doesn't need but which she loves knowing he feels, considering how dedicated he is to his own freedom. It's that respect that tips the scales for her curiosity and makes this...
Safe.
"...What about a-- a mead, is that what you said you're drinking?"
Blink-blink. Alastair did not expect that to be Lee's response. Alastair has finally appealed to the young monk on a subject so highly controversial between them. She's come to see and understand something about him -- and really, her explanation for rigidity in her life was not lost on him either. He should be surging with triumph, overwhelmed with justification. He won.
Instead, Alastair is sitting in his seat, silent for a beat, wavering cautiously. It feels like forgiveness for something he hadn't been aware of doing.
But his surprise breaks with a warm chuckle, like a breath of relief. "Aye, but I dunno if you'll like it." In some aspects, Alastair except Lee may enjoy it, if she likes anything sweet. His degree of skepticism only lies in the fact that while sweet, it is incredibly strong, in both flavor and potency.
"Hmm...how about-- lets get you started on...a cider," Alastair proposes, looking over across the bar. The barmaid catches sight of his glimmering hand waving her over instantaneously. She takes the request of a cider and a second mead graciously before disappearing once again.
"I'm certain you'll like cider, an' it's not quite as strong as mead -- but if you'd like, you may help yourself to mine." The bard leans over sideways, bumping his shoulder with Lee's. "And if you like none'o that, then we'll have to get a little more adventurous." Sure, she might like ale, but giving her wine or, gods help her, liquor, might be a little more interesting.
Instead, Alastair is sitting in his seat, silent for a beat, wavering cautiously. It feels like forgiveness for something he hadn't been aware of doing.
But his surprise breaks with a warm chuckle, like a breath of relief. "Aye, but I dunno if you'll like it." In some aspects, Alastair except Lee may enjoy it, if she likes anything sweet. His degree of skepticism only lies in the fact that while sweet, it is incredibly strong, in both flavor and potency.
"Hmm...how about-- lets get you started on...a cider," Alastair proposes, looking over across the bar. The barmaid catches sight of his glimmering hand waving her over instantaneously. She takes the request of a cider and a second mead graciously before disappearing once again.
"I'm certain you'll like cider, an' it's not quite as strong as mead -- but if you'd like, you may help yourself to mine." The bard leans over sideways, bumping his shoulder with Lee's. "And if you like none'o that, then we'll have to get a little more adventurous." Sure, she might like ale, but giving her wine or, gods help her, liquor, might be a little more interesting.
It's quite the jump for her, isn't it? She can see the surprise in his face but sees none of the gloat. It's just learning between friends, not an argument she's lost. From fighting to understanding and isn't that what she needs to grow, a bit of roughness and a bit of wisdom?
Too philosophical for drinking, maybe. But not too philosophical for them drinking, right?
"So cider's...easier to drink?" Lee nudges Alastair's shoulder back, harder than necessary but with a smile that suggests it's all in good fun. "I remember...the kumis had a strength to it, sometimes. A bitter aftertaste when we'd let it sit too long on accident. That must be the alcohol...fermenting?" She thinks that's the word.
"...Drinking seems complicated." Is her declaration as their tankards are returned, refilled. She looks to the bottom of hers and as it's opaque, the liquid looks dark brown and thick. Jostling it just enough to slosh up the side a little shows her it's a clear, bright yellow-brown.
There's a small sensation in her stomach now, like a hand waving for attention. She wonders if she's feeling guilty now that she's faced with it.
She's watching for Alastair to start drinking again, first.
Too philosophical for drinking, maybe. But not too philosophical for them drinking, right?
"So cider's...easier to drink?" Lee nudges Alastair's shoulder back, harder than necessary but with a smile that suggests it's all in good fun. "I remember...the kumis had a strength to it, sometimes. A bitter aftertaste when we'd let it sit too long on accident. That must be the alcohol...fermenting?" She thinks that's the word.
"...Drinking seems complicated." Is her declaration as their tankards are returned, refilled. She looks to the bottom of hers and as it's opaque, the liquid looks dark brown and thick. Jostling it just enough to slosh up the side a little shows her it's a clear, bright yellow-brown.
There's a small sensation in her stomach now, like a hand waving for attention. She wonders if she's feeling guilty now that she's faced with it.
She's watching for Alastair to start drinking again, first.
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