He doesn't know the sign, but both her slight emphasis and the very nature
of the gesture makes it apparent. He shrugs with a tight smile and waves
his hand abruptly from left to right; not sign language but a clear mime
for it's done, it doesn't matter.
He takes a long drink of cappuccino as she types and watches her, clearly a
little frustrated with having to talk to him in longform. It makes him wish
he knew more of the language she preferred; he feels stupid and hates it.
Auryn can understand why people have tried to communicate with her using
magic; it'd be faster for her and easier for him to try to beef up her
existing powers to actual telepathy or something else. But that ignores the
fact that she can speak already, has a language that he just doesn't
know. Besides, he's not entirely sure what she'd hear, if she heard
someone's thoughts in words. Would it even make sense when her language is
visual?
He reads when she shows him, and makes a face at the paragraph about her
family, though he feels a little guilty for being yet another person who
doesn't just know sign language and requires notebooks and cell
phones. Not that he's had the opportunity to learn it, ever, and he thinks
that earns patience, but he's not known for his.
Auryn has no idea what a petit-four actually is except something that fancy
people eat, but he can get the idea from the word petite, and he
nods, waiting for her to finish. He chews on his lip and looks at her
evenly at the next part.
I did, he writes, because they're being honest, and holds up a
placating hand, but it's her choice if she wants to read on.
I didn't know what was going to happen. None of us did. We wanted to
free magic, we wanted it to be unbound. It wasn't meant to be a game with
humans, or witches, anyone. To bind anyone's mind. Just to live as one with
magic around us.
We were arrogant. But not because we-- He strikes it out,
because he's not sure of that with Nerium and Aoife. Not because I think
I'm superior over humans. Or other witches. We were arrogant in that we
thought we could control that level of spell. Just as the laws here can
only play at it. Magic is not something we bind. Witches think that they
control it, but we're vessels. This place is full of energy and the longer
it is repressed, the more chaotic what escapes will be.
I'm sorry he scribbles, and echoes her gesture, looking at her.
For the wrong done. We were foolish.
He doodles a cake quickly and draws up totally uneven slices, scribbling
words around the big and littler slices. Rich, poor, able and otherwise,
educated, uneducated, white, black, asian, Latino, men, women... the list
goes on. Above that, to indicate the same categories for both: Humans.
Monstrous. He then circles them all with an underline and draws another
cake and an arrow to it from the circle. This is all I want he
writes. Not my own cake. Not a bigger slice. Just the same one. But
people will die to keep from giving a tiny share of theirs. They'll kill,
hurt, make you hate yourself. You don't get what you're owed by being
passive.
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Date: 2015-06-24 06:51 pm (UTC)He doesn't know the sign, but both her slight emphasis and the very nature of the gesture makes it apparent. He shrugs with a tight smile and waves his hand abruptly from left to right; not sign language but a clear mime for it's done, it doesn't matter.
He takes a long drink of cappuccino as she types and watches her, clearly a little frustrated with having to talk to him in longform. It makes him wish he knew more of the language she preferred; he feels stupid and hates it. Auryn can understand why people have tried to communicate with her using magic; it'd be faster for her and easier for him to try to beef up her existing powers to actual telepathy or something else. But that ignores the fact that she can speak already, has a language that he just doesn't know. Besides, he's not entirely sure what she'd hear, if she heard someone's thoughts in words. Would it even make sense when her language is visual?
He reads when she shows him, and makes a face at the paragraph about her family, though he feels a little guilty for being yet another person who doesn't just know sign language and requires notebooks and cell phones. Not that he's had the opportunity to learn it, ever, and he thinks that earns patience, but he's not known for his.
Auryn has no idea what a petit-four actually is except something that fancy people eat, but he can get the idea from the word petite, and he nods, waiting for her to finish. He chews on his lip and looks at her evenly at the next part.
I did, he writes, because they're being honest, and holds up a placating hand, but it's her choice if she wants to read on.
I didn't know what was going to happen. None of us did. We wanted to free magic, we wanted it to be unbound. It wasn't meant to be a game with humans, or witches, anyone. To bind anyone's mind. Just to live as one with magic around us.
We were arrogant. But not because we-- He strikes it out, because he's not sure of that with Nerium and Aoife. Not because I think I'm superior over humans. Or other witches. We were arrogant in that we thought we could control that level of spell. Just as the laws here can only play at it. Magic is not something we bind. Witches think that they control it, but we're vessels. This place is full of energy and the longer it is repressed, the more chaotic what escapes will be.
I'm sorry he scribbles, and echoes her gesture, looking at her. For the wrong done. We were foolish.
He doodles a cake quickly and draws up totally uneven slices, scribbling words around the big and littler slices. Rich, poor, able and otherwise, educated, uneducated, white, black, asian, Latino, men, women... the list goes on. Above that, to indicate the same categories for both: Humans. Monstrous. He then circles them all with an underline and draws another cake and an arrow to it from the circle. This is all I want he writes. Not my own cake. Not a bigger slice. Just the same one. But people will die to keep from giving a tiny share of theirs. They'll kill, hurt, make you hate yourself. You don't get what you're owed by being passive.