[ if richie enters one of the souvenir shops at the boardwalk, he will be immediately greeted by the sight of Eupha turning away from a rack of sunglasses wearing a pair(?) of these. ]
Ah — well, even considering the clothes shop before, they do seem well prepared to treat us all. Very specifically so in fact.
[Okay. Look.
Richie has had the time to look the profiles over so he has seen a pretty picture of a young lady with one special feature, peering out just above her brows. He has been bracing for it, they can't keep missing each other forever.
It's been a bumpy road. He'd kept more to himself day one, day two started edging out. The fuzzy folk aren't so bad, they're just coming in a hairer package than he's used to.
(just like that day in July)
But eyes. It really had to be eyes. Richie takes a soft inhale, keeps his expression even. Hates how the smell of fresh-broken fortune cookies hits his nose, even if he knows damn well it's psychosomatic. Rot. Stinking blood.]
[Easy now. She's just a kid. And he's just a jumpy little fucker, making mountains out of molehills. If he were a betting man he'd guess she took an almighty amount of shit for her third eye already, if not from home then from here for sure. It's not fair to pin his paranoias on her.
And look at that. She just about says as much. His gut gives a funny twist, and his friendly smile falters. At least it's appropriately timed. He clucks his tongue with a proper frown now, feeling no small amount of shame.]
Kind of a tale as old as time, isn't it? There's always someone getting pushed to the side.
I can't say we had anyone like you back home. It's looking downright boring compared to the likes of you all. What was it about your faith that got people all squirrelly?
I'm sure there is much that's interesting about your home.
There are a few reasons that we are disliked by the Sanctists... first of all, because we believe in a different God than they do. But I think what truly disturbs their leaders are the relics and knowledge we hold... as they are evidence of a history in contradiction with that which they preach.
[Since that's where the only derring do and pixie dust exists.]
...Ah. Yeah, that same old song and dance. You got a story we don't like to hear, and you're praying to gods we don't care to preach. It goes much the same way back home too, in different degrees.
Of course our "gods" aren't half so active as anyone else's here. Or at all. Kind of makes all the squabbling over them sound twice as foolish.
Is that so...? That's a shame, to hear it is similar in other lands...
I once read a story about a place where all people are as one tribe, and all are free to believe as they choose. I wonder if such a place exists among our worlds, or if it was truly just a fantasy...
The Sanctists claim that they alone have the truth of the origin of our world, but we mustari have knowledge of the World Before, a history from before the beginning of our history. We preserve what we can of the old world, while they would have it buried and forgotten.
So it's a clash of popular knowledge and an inconvenient knowledge.
[You know, getting into all this theological territory has really done wonders for his queasiness. His focus still flicks back up to the third eye more often than he'd like, definitely more than is polite. But at least the subject's grounding. Something to round her out rather than let her stay an ill omen in his irrational mind.
That said?]
...Hey, it's not bumming you out to drag up all this dirt for me, is it? We can talk about something else, I don't mean to kill the mood. You were just shopping after all.
Oh, not at all! I think you've been very pleasant to talk to.
But, well... why don't you tell me something about your home, instead? It seems you've never seen a mustari before. Are all people where you're from... like yourself, then?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Week 0, Monday
...
Oh, excuse me! I hope I'm not in your way.
no subject
...No?
[Hi there. Uh. Sort of nods and smiles, incredulous but politely so.]
Neat shades.
no subject
[ she takes them off so he can see her smiling face and extra eye. ]
cw: implied eye gore
[Okay. Look.
Richie has had the time to look the profiles over so he has seen a pretty picture of a young lady with one special feature, peering out just above her brows. He has been bracing for it, they can't keep missing each other forever.
It's been a bumpy road. He'd kept more to himself day one, day two started edging out. The fuzzy folk aren't so bad, they're just coming in a hairer package than he's used to.
(just like that day in July)
But eyes. It really had to be eyes. Richie takes a soft inhale, keeps his expression even. Hates how the smell of fresh-broken fortune cookies hits his nose, even if he knows damn well it's psychosomatic. Rot. Stinking blood.]
Mustari? Can't say I've heard of it.
[(needle piercing the broad black pupil)]
Is it hard to come by stuff made for you abroad?
no subject
Oh... yes. Well, not that I have spent much time abroad myself, but we mustari are... not always welcome in many places. Much less catered to.
no subject
And look at that. She just about says as much. His gut gives a funny twist, and his friendly smile falters. At least it's appropriately timed. He clucks his tongue with a proper frown now, feeling no small amount of shame.]
Kind of a tale as old as time, isn't it? There's always someone getting pushed to the side.
Forgive me though — what is a mustari, exactly?
no subject
no subject
[He nods, clucking his tongue.]
I can't say we had anyone like you back home. It's looking downright boring compared to the likes of you all. What was it about your faith that got people all squirrelly?
no subject
There are a few reasons that we are disliked by the Sanctists... first of all, because we believe in a different God than they do. But I think what truly disturbs their leaders are the relics and knowledge we hold... as they are evidence of a history in contradiction with that which they preach.
no subject
[Since that's where the only derring do and pixie dust exists.]
...Ah. Yeah, that same old song and dance. You got a story we don't like to hear, and you're praying to gods we don't care to preach. It goes much the same way back home too, in different degrees.
Of course our "gods" aren't half so active as anyone else's here. Or at all. Kind of makes all the squabbling over them sound twice as foolish.
no subject
Is that so...? That's a shame, to hear it is similar in other lands...
I once read a story about a place where all people are as one tribe, and all are free to believe as they choose. I wonder if such a place exists among our worlds, or if it was truly just a fantasy...
no subject
Problem is, you can never stop people from being assholes. We're improving on a broad scale, but person to person? That's much trickier stuff.
So what is it about your history they're not wanting to hear?
no subject
no subject
[You know, getting into all this theological territory has really done wonders for his queasiness. His focus still flicks back up to the third eye more often than he'd like, definitely more than is polite. But at least the subject's grounding. Something to round her out rather than let her stay an ill omen in his irrational mind.
That said?]
...Hey, it's not bumming you out to drag up all this dirt for me, is it? We can talk about something else, I don't mean to kill the mood. You were just shopping after all.
no subject
But, well... why don't you tell me something about your home, instead? It seems you've never seen a mustari before. Are all people where you're from... like yourself, then?