Bahorel stands up, pressing Enjolras' shoulder in amusement and sympathy--being too far away to act has been the curse on both of them long-- still questioning the strange little child.
The child's explanations aren't entirely coherent, or terribly focused, in the way of young children--in that, too, this might as well be a human child. But they are coherent in the way everyone in Milliways is coherent: the language made clear, even though it seems highly unlikely that they've met another French soul here.
The information, everything from their own name to that of their country, is scattered and sometimes said too strangely to understand. But their new acquaintance is evidently still at the age when any adult who's not a terror is an accepted authority, and there's soon enough information at least to know where the child belongs in a village nearby.
Over the hill, the way Bahorel and Enjolras came.
Bahorel isn't entirely surprised to find that over the hill is more of the strange landscape; not a glimpse of Milliways. He takes out his watch, and isn't exactly surprised to get nothing but timekeeping tick-tock sounds from it. He grimaces; that this has stranded him and Enjolras both away from their friends at once is not the best of outcomes.
But here they are. "The Labyrinth, I think, lets people out when they've answered some task; the forest, when it likes the feel of them. This place--maybe if we find that kirin again--"
He's distracted a little from thoughts of strategy by their new companion laughing at the face he's making. Bahorel grins, and makes a more outlandish one, getting a much better laugh. The audience has its opinions!
To Enjolras, he shrugs. Whatever else is going on, whatever this land or its magic might want, there's an obvious task to do right now.
no subject
The child's explanations aren't entirely coherent, or terribly focused, in the way of young children--in that, too, this might as well be a human child. But they are coherent in the way everyone in Milliways is coherent: the language made clear, even though it seems highly unlikely that they've met another French soul here.
The information, everything from their own name to that of their country, is scattered and sometimes said too strangely to understand. But their new acquaintance is evidently still at the age when any adult who's not a terror is an accepted authority, and there's soon enough information at least to know where the child belongs in a village nearby.
Over the hill, the way Bahorel and Enjolras came.
Bahorel isn't entirely surprised to find that over the hill is more of the strange landscape; not a glimpse of Milliways. He takes out his watch, and isn't exactly surprised to get nothing but timekeeping tick-tock sounds from it. He grimaces; that this has stranded him and Enjolras both away from their friends at once is not the best of outcomes.
But here they are. "The Labyrinth, I think, lets people out when they've answered some task; the forest, when it likes the feel of them. This place--maybe if we find that kirin again--"
He's distracted a little from thoughts of strategy by their new companion laughing at the face he's making. Bahorel grins, and makes a more outlandish one, getting a much better laugh. The audience has its opinions!
To Enjolras, he shrugs. Whatever else is going on, whatever this land or its magic might want, there's an obvious task to do right now.