[ There is a great difference between ocean and river, Bilis knows because the city that fell around her was situated by the sea, too, the view always blue, always white-tinged, the horizon a tangible thing. She has not seen a horizon like her hometown's since they left on their quest, no matter how many cities they have visited (and the warriors torn down) on the way, their outlooks are always a little bit less.
Gascea is dreary in comparison, but huge, so huge that even her travel companions decided it was too much work. There are people enough here that they can form their own armies, the Warrior would say, looking up and down the street. The Amazon would agree and hang her bow back across her shoulders. Gascea didn't need their revolution, enough was brewing here on its own.
So they moved on. And Bilis stayed behind. Here, here she is.
She listens, leaning one elbow on the table and supporting her chin, smiling ever so slightly as the story unfolds. She recognises a woven tale when she sees it. She doesn't guess at the truth of it - or the lies, wherever they be. True and false are relative notions. Instead, she plays along, because the other woman makes her feel like doing so. Playing. How long ago it has been, last.
With a purse of her lips, she comments, ]
How far was Jauffret from the last place you remembered being the previous night?
[ Pela laments a theatrical sob, but her eyes are twinkling too merrily to truly sell it. ]
No longer was I in Diseau, but Traissee! And while it didn't break my heart to trade swamp and marsh for craggy hills, there was still the matter of the frumhöggr to deal with, so I thought.
Meanwhile the grain-master is trying to barter me for the lambs, saying I owed him for staying the night in his mill, like it was some high class inn!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Gascea is dreary in comparison, but huge, so huge that even her travel companions decided it was too much work. There are people enough here that they can form their own armies, the Warrior would say, looking up and down the street. The Amazon would agree and hang her bow back across her shoulders. Gascea didn't need their revolution, enough was brewing here on its own.
So they moved on. And Bilis stayed behind. Here, here she is.
She listens, leaning one elbow on the table and supporting her chin, smiling ever so slightly as the story unfolds. She recognises a woven tale when she sees it. She doesn't guess at the truth of it - or the lies, wherever they be. True and false are relative notions. Instead, she plays along, because the other woman makes her feel like doing so. Playing. How long ago it has been, last.
With a purse of her lips, she comments, ]
How far was Jauffret from the last place you remembered being the previous night?
no subject
[ Pela laments a theatrical sob, but her eyes are twinkling too merrily to truly sell it. ]
No longer was I in Diseau, but Traissee! And while it didn't break my heart to trade swamp and marsh for craggy hills, there was still the matter of the frumhöggr to deal with, so I thought.
Meanwhile the grain-master is trying to barter me for the lambs, saying I owed him for staying the night in his mill, like it was some high class inn!