Then he realizes that he's not talking to just anyone. Few days out in the field and he's fallen into the mode of camp complaint, where you can say things like these tents are shit or when will we stop getting stale tack for breakfast or if I've got to hear that arsebiscuit snoring one more night I'll cut his throat, and it's a general rumble of camaraderie that is all right, even in mixed company. Only here, Matthias has committed the critical error of having spoken his wish aloud to Enchanter Averesch, without meaning to.
What's the difference? Well, they're not exactly comrades in arms, are they, and he mostly wants very badly to impress Enchanter Averesch, which means being cool and not complaining. And he's not properly complaining, but it's not as if Enchanter Averesch will know that he's not properly complaining. Enchanter, or: whatever title would be appropriate. Is there a title that would be considered appropriate? What does decorum and title matter anymore--only, really, then again, people did a lot to earn them, so perhaps they do matter--but if they were granted under an old system that's defunct or really burnt to the ground, then, really, does it matter. But perhaps it's better to err on the side of being respectful, even if only in his head, because if he actually said it aloud Averesch might look at him in some way.
And all of this thinking goes on in about two second's time, as the horror of his stupid trite confession spreads a numbness through him. And, well, okay. His socks are rather squashy.
He tries a grin on. Feels all right. Perfectly self-deprecating, an easy balance to strike, because he feels like such a tit right now. "And a palace with a massive fireplace. Only joking. I can live without anything. Have we really got to go into Val Royeaux?"
Edited (sorry i got precious about punctuation E:) 2019-10-16 00:56 (UTC)
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kicks the theoretical to the curb
Then he realizes that he's not talking to just anyone. Few days out in the field and he's fallen into the mode of camp complaint, where you can say things like these tents are shit or when will we stop getting stale tack for breakfast or if I've got to hear that arsebiscuit snoring one more night I'll cut his throat, and it's a general rumble of camaraderie that is all right, even in mixed company. Only here, Matthias has committed the critical error of having spoken his wish aloud to Enchanter Averesch, without meaning to.
What's the difference? Well, they're not exactly comrades in arms, are they, and he mostly wants very badly to impress Enchanter Averesch, which means being cool and not complaining. And he's not properly complaining, but it's not as if Enchanter Averesch will know that he's not properly complaining. Enchanter, or: whatever title would be appropriate. Is there a title that would be considered appropriate? What does decorum and title matter anymore--only, really, then again, people did a lot to earn them, so perhaps they do matter--but if they were granted under an old system that's defunct or really burnt to the ground, then, really, does it matter. But perhaps it's better to err on the side of being respectful, even if only in his head, because if he actually said it aloud Averesch might look at him in some way.
And all of this thinking goes on in about two second's time, as the horror of his stupid trite confession spreads a numbness through him. And, well, okay. His socks are rather squashy.
He tries a grin on. Feels all right. Perfectly self-deprecating, an easy balance to strike, because he feels like such a tit right now. "And a palace with a massive fireplace. Only joking. I can live without anything. Have we really got to go into Val Royeaux?"