Lev recognises the confused puppy look for what it is, and even suspects he knows exactly which parts Leon's getting caught up on, but he takes no offense— either on his behalf or on Anzu's—and the arrival of the drinks leads the moment away, in any case. And certainly what Leon says next clarifies things—Lev decides he can safely attribute any awkward reaction to ignorance and sudden novelty.
He can't blame Leon for either of that. Not like he was especially sophisticated in these matters, when he had first discovered that his was not a unique blight visited on no other thinking creature.
And in any case, Leon's being considerate and rather sweet. It's charming.
Lev picks up the pint of shandy, but keeps his gaze directed more or less towards Leon.
"So it can be, nu?" he says, "the world is never short on new things, and barukh HaShem for that. But like ..." he grins, "nu, please don't like, take this the wrong way? But I? Hardly the strangest thing thou'lt see here. This place, nu. Like. It's ... oy, it's beautiful, and the people are nice, but—"
A sour note creeps into his voice.
"No matter what kind of place one's from, this place is strange," he finally says, a little cryptically. "For one thing—nu, it has entirely the wrong amount of. Um. Feh. Look, I have no idea what thou call'st such things, so I'll say spirits what don't seem to like people and thou can'st inform me if I speak gibberish, and thus can us two figure out how to communicate on this matter."
He fails at keeping his tone entirely breezy. He doesn't sound like he's proclaiming doom, but he does sound nervous.
By Lev, such subject matter is perfectly natural as a topic of quotidian conversation—his husband's a necromancer. Would the spouse of a forest ranger not talk of ticks and careless campers, in a place where there's more of both than they'd expected?
And it seems like a good idea to warn Leon about some of the non-Barrier reasons Marrow Isle's not a popular destination for holidaymakers.
But none of that means he's not uneasy about the things wrong on the isle, even if, unlike many of the newcomers, he doesn't find them unprecedented or wholly unnatural. It's just that as he gets used to his life in Pumpkin Hollow, the town's problems start bothering him personally rather than merely abstractly. Whatever's going on here is his business now, too. And he owes it to the town, to take such things seriously.
no subject
Lev recognises the confused puppy look for what it is, and even suspects he knows exactly which parts Leon's getting caught up on, but he takes no offense— either on his behalf or on Anzu's—and the arrival of the drinks leads the moment away, in any case. And certainly what Leon says next clarifies things—Lev decides he can safely attribute any awkward reaction to ignorance and sudden novelty.
He can't blame Leon for either of that. Not like he was especially sophisticated in these matters, when he had first discovered that his was not a unique blight visited on no other thinking creature.
And in any case, Leon's being considerate and rather sweet. It's charming.
Lev picks up the pint of shandy, but keeps his gaze directed more or less towards Leon.
"So it can be, nu?" he says, "the world is never short on new things, and barukh HaShem for that. But like ..." he grins, "nu, please don't like, take this the wrong way? But I? Hardly the strangest thing thou'lt see here. This place, nu. Like. It's ... oy, it's beautiful, and the people are nice, but—"
A sour note creeps into his voice.
"No matter what kind of place one's from, this place is strange," he finally says, a little cryptically. "For one thing—nu, it has entirely the wrong amount of. Um. Feh. Look, I have no idea what thou call'st such things, so I'll say spirits what don't seem to like people and thou can'st inform me if I speak gibberish, and thus can us two figure out how to communicate on this matter."
He fails at keeping his tone entirely breezy. He doesn't sound like he's proclaiming doom, but he does sound nervous.
By Lev, such subject matter is perfectly natural as a topic of quotidian conversation—his husband's a necromancer. Would the spouse of a forest ranger not talk of ticks and careless campers, in a place where there's more of both than they'd expected?
And it seems like a good idea to warn Leon about some of the non-Barrier reasons Marrow Isle's not a popular destination for holidaymakers.
But none of that means he's not uneasy about the things wrong on the isle, even if, unlike many of the newcomers, he doesn't find them unprecedented or wholly unnatural. It's just that as he gets used to his life in Pumpkin Hollow, the town's problems start bothering him personally rather than merely abstractly. Whatever's going on here is his business now, too. And he owes it to the town, to take such things seriously.