Ulla lays aside her book and pulls herself a little closer to the platters.
The food is good, though even raw fish is strange to her without the
ever-present taste of salt on her tongue.
Far more of her attention is devoted to the music, which she loves. She's
heard stringed instruments before, both in Söndermane and from Lark here,
but she's never heard this style of playing.
She listens, rapt, until he draws to a close. She's transparently delighted
when she tells him, "Thank you."
He offers her a short bow of his head as he pulls his fingers away. He'll sling his guitar behind him for the moment before he reaches for a piece of fruit for himself.
"You're very welcome. It's been a while since I would play? Up in the gazebo? But I noticed you asking about music. So I thought you might appreciate it."
"Human instruments are the best part of being trapped here," she tells him
matter-of-factly. "They don't work underwater, so I'd only heard any of
them during the short time I spent on land."
"My people," if they even count as her people anymore; the people she came
from, at any rate, "are all singers, and I'm a composer."
"I'd like to learn. Thank you." Teaching her music probably isn't going
to make her open up, unless he happens to play the perfect song
someday, the way Lark managed to. But she'll take it, gladly.
She nods, reaching for the fruit platter again and taking a piece of mango.
"I've never tried a lot of these fruits," she tells him. "They're good."
Even before the storm that changed its climate, Sondermane was never
tropical. The novelty is nice sometimes, though she misses her frigid
ocean home, lonely as it was. Open sea to swim in, as opposed to the
confines of this ship that wasn't built with people like her in mind.
“Thank you,” he says with an easy dip of his head her way, “I can give you the names for any of them you like in particular.”
He’ll take a piece himself as well, pop it into his mouth without ceremony. He chews it and swallows it until he gestures towards her with one hand.
“Did you have any questions? About me. About… how I think, where I’m from. Species or world or…”. He waves the hand a little to reference any of it. “Or anything you need.”
"All I needed was my magic. Someone already asked the Admiral to restore
that." And there's a slightly wary look in her eyes as she tells him so,
because as her warden he has the power to revoke that request with a few
words.
"You're human, aren't you? And from a different world than mine. No one
here is from mine."
He shakes his head, because it’s only fair to be honest. He’s usually pretty honest. Transparent, now, that’s something he’ll never entirely manage.
“I was human. At this point? I’m a werewolf. But I don’t have any magic.” He definitely caught that tension in her eyes and he’s going to address it right now. “Someone I was close to here did, though. At the time? I couldn’t ask her about learning. Because my hand was mechanical and the two things didn’t play nicely together. But I’ve always been fascinated by it.”
He looks over at her.
“I’m not about restricting people. Quite the opposite.” He even looks a little disgusted by the idea. “So while I can’t guarantee anything? Since we’re temporary? Your magic’s safe for the month.”
He leans back with one hand on the ground.
“There’s one person here from my world. The one who caused some trouble recently. If that’s a problem, I’m happy to answer questions on that as well.”
"Like Lark," she says, when he tells her what he is. She likes Lark
despite herself, the only person on the barge she opened up to entirely of
her own volition.
She doesn't entirely trust his promise, because she doesn't entirely trust
anyone, but it's still better to have it than not. She inclines her head
deeply in thanks, letting him continue talking.
As for Jacobi, Ulla has been untouched by recent events on the ship. "He
didn't cause any trouble for me."
He nods, and he isn’t the kind of person to hide the association either.
“Lark’s the one who changed me, so yeah,” he says with a quick grin. He won’t focus on the promise or try to reassure her; no way to do that than by not causing her trouble. And given how little he’s seen her wreaking havoc, he doesn’t really see why he would.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll still answer questions, though.”
He reaches over for another piece of fruit.
“What’s your world like? I’m guessing… less technology and science?” He holds up a hand. “I’m fine being wrong.”
"Lark and I talked about transformations," among other things. "How
changing hurts. It's supposed to."
"There's less technology. Some science. Sildroher don't have much use for
technology, and I only spent a single summer on land in human form, so I
can't tell you much of the lives of mortals." It was a summer that altered
the course of lives, and the climate around the northern seas, true. But
still only a summer. "Many of them fear magic, even some of the ones who
want to possess or use it. They would have been frightened of us, if they
knew what we were."
"I'd agree with him," because he does. Both in the practical sense and the much less practical sense. And the second one is the one he thinks matters.
He nods along with what she has to say until she's finished and then he offers his own information.
"My world's the opposite: plenty of tech and no magic, at least not that I've found." He leans back and stares at the water. "I'll admit, I don't have a lot of tolerance for that kind of fear. That kind of cowardice. I've seen it hurt too many people. After all, there are people who feel that way about technology too. Too many."
"That particular sort of cowardice seems rarer here," Ulla remarks. She
imagines that comes as a relief to some people. It's mostly a jarring
change to her. "There are cowards in any race, sildroher included. People
who are afraid of anything or anyone different."
She grew up among a sea of whispered rumors, ostracized by most of her own
people.
"Of course, I suppose I'm not quite sildroher anymore. There's only one of
whatever I am."
"I'd have to agree," he says with a dip of his head, a nod towards her. "Which makes it all the more jarring when you see it come up. Thankfully, the cowards have a lot less power here."
He's had his anger front and center the last few days, which is why he doesn't, can't hide it. The idea of people treating her as less than. As something to be afraid of. And because it's not so close, not so deep, he can pick it up and put it aside and give her a wry smile.
She takes in that anger without comment, assuming it has to do with the
other person from his world. With the mess she's stayed out of. She doesn't
really think anyone would be angry on her behalf.
And she shrugs. "We use a tool in our transformations. Mine was corrupted,
so I came back different. I couldn't go home anyway, so it doesn't much
matter what shape I took. This one serves me well enough." She's gotten
used to it.
Kepler has spent his life finding people who were behind roadblocks put in front of them by cowards and assholes and helping them shine. Sometimes, that involved some terrible shit? But that was never the part he relished, the part he wanted.
"May I ask what the difference is? If it's awkward. you can just say. I don't mind hearing 'no'."
"I was born with a fish tail, not an eel's." Functionally, not a
significant difference. She could never have convinced the other sildroher
to accept her back this way, but that door had closed before she tried her
knife despite knowing it had been used to spill mortal blood. She still
survived, and she made it back to the sea even if her tail was different.
"Glad I didn't bring eel, then," he says with a faint smile and it's obvious that he's considering what she's said, what she's shared. He glances down at her tail.
"Does it bother you? What tail you have?" A pause before. "That rule applies for anything I ask. And feel free to turn a question or two on me."
He nods, frowns, plucks another piece of fruit and considers.
"Are you interested in the whole graduation thing? Just... at all. I chose to come here. As an inmate, but I still chose. Is that... well. I guess what I'm asking is: do you have a goal? Something you want?"
Ulla studies him for a moment, debating whether to answer.
"And if graduating might require stripping away the only thing left that I
want?" She isn't sure she believes it's possible without giving up her
revenge. "Lark thinks it's possible to graduate without losing that. I'm
not certain I believe him."
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Ulla lays aside her book and pulls herself a little closer to the platters. The food is good, though even raw fish is strange to her without the ever-present taste of salt on her tongue.
Far more of her attention is devoted to the music, which she loves. She's heard stringed instruments before, both in Söndermane and from Lark here, but she's never heard this style of playing.
She listens, rapt, until he draws to a close. She's transparently delighted when she tells him, "Thank you."
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"You're very welcome. It's been a while since I would play? Up in the gazebo? But I noticed you asking about music. So I thought you might appreciate it."
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"Human instruments are the best part of being trapped here," she tells him matter-of-factly. "They don't work underwater, so I'd only heard any of them during the short time I spent on land."
"My people," if they even count as her people anymore; the people she came from, at any rate, "are all singers, and I'm a composer."
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Due where it's due, after all.
"I know a few instruments. And I'm happy to play them for an interested audience." He tilts his head towards the neck of the guitar over his shoulder.
"I'm assuming you've got your own instruments? For under the water?"
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"Not really. Nothing like these. Most of our music is purely vocal." Ulla is fascinated with human instruments for a reason.
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He shrugs.
“And I can probably figure out the ones I don’t. If you’re really jonesing.”
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"I'd like to learn. Thank you." Teaching her music probably isn't going to make her open up, unless he happens to play the perfect song someday, the way Lark managed to. But she'll take it, gladly.
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“Then we’ll start lessons with… guitar?” He gestures to the instrument over his shoulder. “Once you’re done eating.”
He gives her a crooked sort of smile.
“I’d say the food can wait? But. It won’t taste as good later. And the guitar’s not going anywhere.”
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She nods, reaching for the fruit platter again and taking a piece of mango.
"I've never tried a lot of these fruits," she tells him. "They're good." Even before the storm that changed its climate, Sondermane was never tropical. The novelty is nice sometimes, though she misses her frigid ocean home, lonely as it was. Open sea to swim in, as opposed to the confines of this ship that wasn't built with people like her in mind.
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He’ll take a piece himself as well, pop it into his mouth without ceremony. He chews it and swallows it until he gestures towards her with one hand.
“Did you have any questions? About me. About… how I think, where I’m from. Species or world or…”. He waves the hand a little to reference any of it. “Or anything you need.”
no subject
"All I needed was my magic. Someone already asked the Admiral to restore that." And there's a slightly wary look in her eyes as she tells him so, because as her warden he has the power to revoke that request with a few words.
"You're human, aren't you? And from a different world than mine. No one here is from mine."
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“I was human. At this point? I’m a werewolf. But I don’t have any magic.” He definitely caught that tension in her eyes and he’s going to address it right now. “Someone I was close to here did, though. At the time? I couldn’t ask her about learning. Because my hand was mechanical and the two things didn’t play nicely together. But I’ve always been fascinated by it.”
He looks over at her.
“I’m not about restricting people. Quite the opposite.” He even looks a little disgusted by the idea. “So while I can’t guarantee anything? Since we’re temporary? Your magic’s safe for the month.”
He leans back with one hand on the ground.
“There’s one person here from my world. The one who caused some trouble recently. If that’s a problem, I’m happy to answer questions on that as well.”
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"Like Lark," she says, when he tells her what he is. She likes Lark despite herself, the only person on the barge she opened up to entirely of her own volition.
She doesn't entirely trust his promise, because she doesn't entirely trust anyone, but it's still better to have it than not. She inclines her head deeply in thanks, letting him continue talking.
As for Jacobi, Ulla has been untouched by recent events on the ship. "He didn't cause any trouble for me."
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“Lark’s the one who changed me, so yeah,” he says with a quick grin. He won’t focus on the promise or try to reassure her; no way to do that than by not causing her trouble. And given how little he’s seen her wreaking havoc, he doesn’t really see why he would.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll still answer questions, though.”
He reaches over for another piece of fruit.
“What’s your world like? I’m guessing… less technology and science?” He holds up a hand. “I’m fine being wrong.”
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"Lark and I talked about transformations," among other things. "How changing hurts. It's supposed to."
"There's less technology. Some science. Sildroher don't have much use for technology, and I only spent a single summer on land in human form, so I can't tell you much of the lives of mortals." It was a summer that altered the course of lives, and the climate around the northern seas, true. But still only a summer. "Many of them fear magic, even some of the ones who want to possess or use it. They would have been frightened of us, if they knew what we were."
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He nods along with what she has to say until she's finished and then he offers his own information.
"My world's the opposite: plenty of tech and no magic, at least not that I've found." He leans back and stares at the water. "I'll admit, I don't have a lot of tolerance for that kind of fear. That kind of cowardice. I've seen it hurt too many people. After all, there are people who feel that way about technology too. Too many."
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"That particular sort of cowardice seems rarer here," Ulla remarks. She imagines that comes as a relief to some people. It's mostly a jarring change to her. "There are cowards in any race, sildroher included. People who are afraid of anything or anyone different."
She grew up among a sea of whispered rumors, ostracized by most of her own people.
"Of course, I suppose I'm not quite sildroher anymore. There's only one of whatever I am."
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He's had his anger front and center the last few days, which is why he doesn't, can't hide it. The idea of people treating her as less than. As something to be afraid of. And because it's not so close, not so deep, he can pick it up and put it aside and give her a wry smile.
"That's hard. Even if it's special."
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She takes in that anger without comment, assuming it has to do with the other person from his world. With the mess she's stayed out of. She doesn't really think anyone would be angry on her behalf.
And she shrugs. "We use a tool in our transformations. Mine was corrupted, so I came back different. I couldn't go home anyway, so it doesn't much matter what shape I took. This one serves me well enough." She's gotten used to it.
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"May I ask what the difference is? If it's awkward. you can just say. I don't mind hearing 'no'."
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"I was born with a fish tail, not an eel's." Functionally, not a significant difference. She could never have convinced the other sildroher to accept her back this way, but that door had closed before she tried her knife despite knowing it had been used to spill mortal blood. She still survived, and she made it back to the sea even if her tail was different.
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"Glad I didn't bring eel, then," he says with a faint smile and it's obvious that he's considering what she's said, what she's shared. He glances down at her tail.
"Does it bother you? What tail you have?" A pause before. "That rule applies for anything I ask. And feel free to turn a question or two on me."
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Ulla doesn't laugh at his joke, but she does smile. She would have eaten eel regardless.
"Navigating the Barge would be even harder if I couldn't slither," she remarks dryly. "It's fine. I've grown used to it."
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"Are you interested in the whole graduation thing? Just... at all. I chose to come here. As an inmate, but I still chose. Is that... well. I guess what I'm asking is: do you have a goal? Something you want?"
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Ulla studies him for a moment, debating whether to answer.
"And if graduating might require stripping away the only thing left that I want?" She isn't sure she believes it's possible without giving up her revenge. "Lark thinks it's possible to graduate without losing that. I'm not certain I believe him."
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