"You won't hear any disagreement from me," Bastien says, "but the important word is majority. When it works it's wonderful."
The topic makes his Marcher accent feel stranger in his mouth. Conversations about art are supposed to happen in Orlesian, outright, and if that is not possible, at least with an Orlesian accent. Marcher accents are for talking about the price of fish, or—
He doesn't have weird hang-ups, you have weird hang-ups.
The girl turns left, down a wide road with raised beds down its center, growing palm trees for shade. They don't turn where she did, but down the other side, where the trees will provide a touch of cover without blocking their view.
"Did you hear about Beneath the Arbor Blessing, in Antiva? The way it is blocked, each of the four sections of the audience sees something slightly different."
Outside a café on their side of the street, a man with a broadsheet and a cup of coffee is trying a touch too hard not to look like he's looking at them. Noted. But he's one man, and they're very handsome and discussing something of interest to people who sit outside cafés with coffee in the evening, and Bastien at least sounds foreign, so only noted.
"They leave the theater arguing passionately about who committed the central crime, and all of them are right. We should go there next."
no subject
The topic makes his Marcher accent feel stranger in his mouth. Conversations about art are supposed to happen in Orlesian, outright, and if that is not possible, at least with an Orlesian accent. Marcher accents are for talking about the price of fish, or—
He doesn't have weird hang-ups, you have weird hang-ups.
The girl turns left, down a wide road with raised beds down its center, growing palm trees for shade. They don't turn where she did, but down the other side, where the trees will provide a touch of cover without blocking their view.
"Did you hear about Beneath the Arbor Blessing, in Antiva? The way it is blocked, each of the four sections of the audience sees something slightly different."
Outside a café on their side of the street, a man with a broadsheet and a cup of coffee is trying a touch too hard not to look like he's looking at them. Noted. But he's one man, and they're very handsome and discussing something of interest to people who sit outside cafés with coffee in the evening, and Bastien at least sounds foreign, so only noted.
"They leave the theater arguing passionately about who committed the central crime, and all of them are right. We should go there next."