[ closed; ]

[amonfire]

Characters: Amon and Sabriel
Date: The evening of Apr. 5th
Location: WA-3A: Amon's apartment
Situation: Amon practising his English
Warnings/Rating: You'd hope not ｡_｡

[ Amon stood sentinel in the threshold that separated a small hallway leading in the kitchen and the entresol that led in from the door front. He feared if he sat down for a moments rest he would not get up again; having run on fumes since the audience with the Emperor. The sound of the kettle reaching a rolling boil kept his attention away from anything else as he waited to host a strange guest.

It stood to reason that he shouldn't lack for anything that would put him at a disadvantage later on. English served a purpose; he would not trouble over text messages and it study would keep him off the dangers of reflecting on oneself. Time between study would need to be sparse if he had any say. The kettle shook him out of the start of dark ruminations with piercing trill.

One cup, or two? The English apparently preferred that bitter, amber coloured spill. ]

Comments

It's fine!

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel barely had time to struggle as she suddenly found herself caught in Amon's grip.

Her skin had gone stark white again, and Sabriel nodded sharply as she otherwise held herself perfectly still, suppressing an impulse to try to kick his shins as hard as she could, or use a verbal incantation. She felt stupid- injured pride was no reason to get into a fight, regardless of the insult.]

Fine. [Sabriel paused a moment, taking deep, measured breaths.] But don't speak about my father again. Ever

[amonfire]

No. [ Amon replied flatly; he never made promises he knew would be broken later on. This ended to quickly for him, and to his displeasure, not on his terms; he wanted an awnser that satisfied him. That explained why Sabriel reacted as if it never occurred to her how far her father's lies went.

He let her go with a gentle push...out of shin kicking distance. Then he started collecting empty tea cups as if this had only been a minor disagreement. ]

Still for now we talk about something more palatable. Death, maybe? Quite a few questions left there.

[bindsthedead]

Very well- what would you like to know about it? [Sabriel sits back down, her expression wary, but she no longer looks like she wants to throttle him, and her heartbeat is returning to normal.]

I suppose I've told you that it's not a place you visit physically?

[amonfire]

[ Amon felt her heartbeat quell though he made no mention of it as he instead jotted down her last notes with the hand free of juggling tea cups. Perhaps it was an attempt to appease her soured mood once it became clear there was no way to broach the subject of her father tactfully. ]

Suppose you did. Perhaps a break while we have a friendly chat about death. Are you hungry?

[bindsthedead]

I- yes, I suppose so. [Talking about Death wasn't exactly what Sabriel would call a friendly chat, but- well, she wouldn't turn down a meal.]

[amonfire]

[ Turning sharp on his heel Amon moved like water down the hall before disappearing into the little hovel of a kitchen that connected the hallway and living room. A fruity but hearty smell soon started to waft out of the arched doorway and cloy to the walls of the apartment. The sound of a pot of rice bubbling over soon followed and Amon, in a brief moment of exposed humanity, cursed when boiling water seared his fingers.

He emerged sometime after, juggling two bowls of rice and two plates of something brownish purple and stew-like. The table was cleared of their week and Amon made all the efforts of a good host by serving hot tea after setting their dishes down with chopsticks balanced over the bowls.

Amon went only for his tea and tucked it under the lip of his mask before returning to their stalled conversation. ]

If it is a river, but not a physical river- what is it?

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel picked up the chopsticks. She knew how to use them correctly, but her movements while eating were slower and more cautious then they'd been when she was writing. Sabriel started with her rice, eyeing whatever was in the stew rather dubiously as she took another sip of tea.]

You could say it's a realm of spirits- I have to leave my body behind to enter it. Death is a river with a current and no banks, with black water that's colder than ice, and a fog so thick it's hard to see much.

Er, what is this? [With one chopstick, Sabriel pointed to the stew.]

[amonfire]

[ With no affectation, Amon sputtered his tea as he watched Sabriel fumbled attempts to work the chopsticks through her fingers. ]

Hold it like a pencil and balance the other between your middle and index finger so it opens up in the back. Here- [ He put down his tea, reached over and maneuvered her fingers with his own; his touch gentler this time. ] -There. It took me some time to get it right after coming to the Earth Kingdom. You have room for error.

[ Amon hurriedly returned to taking short sips of tea under under a tipped mask. ]

I'd imagine coming to a place between life and death affected your ability to commune with these...spirits.

[ There was sudden silence and behind his mask, Amon's sharp blue eyes dulled with disbelief. ]

Stewed sea prunes. [ They're awesome shush. ]

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel accepted the correction without complaint and stared at her hand, memorizing the chopsticks looked and felt when held that way before carefully picking up a sea prune and popping it in her mouth.

Well, it wasn't exactly bad just different, Sabriel told herself as she chewed and quickly swallowed. The aftertaste reminded her vaguely of seaweed, and she was very hungry.]

Ah- well, I don't think we have anything like sea prunes in Ancelstierre or the Old Kingdom. [But back to the topic of Death and what dwelled there.]

Generally there's less communion and more banishing. The curent in Death is meant to take the spirits of the deceased from Life to whatever lies past the Ninth Gate. The spirits that linger become warped, and must be forced back into following the river's current.

[Sabriel took another sea prune, regarding it grimly before eating it.]

I haven't spotted any Dead here, although I suppose they could be hiding.

[amonfire]

[ Amon clicked his tongue in amused rumination; he ran over how many other foreigners tried sea prunes before immediately spitting them back out with little thought of pretence. Sabriel surprised him there, or he was better at hiding pungent flavours with spices than he thought. ]

It's a staple in my native diet. [ He says precious little of the Water tribe and wishes to keep it such. ]

How...antic-climatic. What are these 'Gates,' exactly and is something always trying to claw their way back out?

[ A sudden fear clenched his chest, though he put on a good face. So to speak. It would be rather nasty business of she figured out he was no longer among the living, or worse, exposed Tarrlok when his brother was blissfully ignorant. ]

The Dead... How do you feel their presence?

[bindsthedead]

Ah. It must be very... plentiful then. [Because Sabriel can't imagine any other reason people would eat it.]

The Gates take various forms- waterfalls, whirlpools, waterclimbs- They become stranger the deeper into Death you walk.

[Sabriel shrugged at the last question.]

I just do- I always have. Sometimes I need to focus but- it's strange. There are some here who've died but are not Dead.