(Untitled)
Stepping out of a body’s usual modus operandi is a strange, and, in many ways, unsettling proposition. Though it can often be a rewarding proposition, it leads to strange feelings in the pit of one’s stomach often accompied by the feeling that one’s gotten in way over their head.
( In which our heroes discover that modern conveniences are anything but )
( In which our heroes discover that modern conveniences are anything but )
Fumbling about, Miki is rather surprised to find that there is no available bottle for her to throw at the source of the tumult. This realisation leads to her cracking open her eyes, making something rather akin to a "B|" face.
"Oi, drongo, can it." The benefit of performing, is that even when at a reasonable volume, one's words carry. Unfortunately, they fall on deaf ears, and Miki shrugs, turns over, and falls back asleep. Another benefit, is seemingly to be able to sleep through non-threatening noise.
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He rewards this behaviour by tucking the blanket up around her shoulders and giving her an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Good show, girly. You'll go places.
With that done, he leans back and look at the couple who are still trying to parse what those words mean, not familiar with the dialect.
"It means buckle your head." he says, plainly, without anger -- he might as well be telling them water is wet, or something akin. (The fact they may not know what THAT means apparently doesn't register.) "There are people trying to sleep."
There's a moment of sputtering offense, on behalf of both shut-upped parties, just long enough to make any comeback awkward and impotent. Grumbling, they settle back in their seats, content to keep their squabbling to a dull roar, for now.
Basch, himself, is content to nudge a little closer to Miki's back and read his book in relative peace.
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...so much water. No land to be seen, just water. It actually gives him vertigo for a few moments; following this is the acute need to see a map of this world, if to satisfy sudden hunger of curiosity. He settles for leaning back, kind of a "whoa" expression on his face ( ... )
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Though it’s not visible through the clouds and rain, there’s ground underneath the plane yet again. Barring having to go into a hold pattern due to the winds, it’s rather likely that the plane will be landing on time in about another three hours.
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"Aye, a bit." The cabin is dimly-lit, for now; most of the passengers have gone to sleep, or are quietly listening to music and working on laptops. It's a sleepy kind of atmosphere, and he's lowered his voice accordingly. "Did you sleep well?"
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Voice keyed low, she cants her head to the side, “Have a decent time of things?” Has there been anything interesting happening while she’s been asleep?
In the row behind, the childling is engaged in some hard-core gaming, the giggles accompanied by muted beeps, boops and clangs. To those who may be paying attention, the lad hasn’t slept once since the plane’s taken off. It is downright amazing what sugar and caffeine can achieve in the young.
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It's a bit long to be sitting in one place, certainly, especially one where the air is eerily stale, almost artificial-smelling, no hint of fauna at all. The (mostly) polite silence and the view makes up for it, however.
He gives her a moment or two wake up some more before trying for conversation that might involve her recalling detailed information. His voice is more like a whisper now, seeing the unfavourable response the magical wards had gotten from their fellow passengers.
"I've been meaning to ask if you know anything about these Fae Courts..."
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"Is there anything I should know as a member of the court?" That won't be so obvious as to blow my cover if I don't is the implication.
He's done the immigrant thing before, he KNOWS.
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"That aside, the elves, faerie, alfar... what-have-you, are usually referred to obliquely and in a positive fashion." Offering up a grin, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Which goes a long way towards explaining how I acquired the surname Goodfellow."
My, is she pleased about that fact; not surprising for one who's never had such a name to call their own, though.
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He nods, taking these into account, then grins, very slowly.
"It's quite darling," he says, nodding while he laughs in a breathy kind of way, "suits you fine, so it does."
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Torn between a grin and somewhat more of a chagrined expression, she ducks her head down a touch. "It works out fair well. Interesting, as well."
She untucks her legs, drawing them up to her chest. "The individual courts obviously have their own share of local quirks and issues, but that's easily brushed aside as not being one too dearly tied to internal machinations." All of the filtered air seems to be drying the girl out something fierce, and she sneezes a few times.
"It bears noting that you're affiliated with the court of the Tuatha dé danaan, for all your name sounds as though you're one of the Erlkönig's."
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"I think I have it." A bit of an involved process, but being away from Ivalian intrigue for once would be worth it.
He smiles a little, tired, but no worse for the wear than usual. "Though I admit to being lost for thought on what I'm to do when the ladies inevitably compliment me on my boyish good looks." Four-hundred and change never looked this hot in a potholder, bitches.
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