kaimana
they say we are what we are, but we don't have to be
You listen carefully as Oliver Not-Loren speaks, filing away a mental note to tell Oia that Outlanders like things to be clean and think mud may be dangerous. Which is fair, you suppose- certainly you have done your share of slipping and wiping out on errant mud.
But it isn't the mud's fault, y'know?
Wounds not getting dirty also makes a degree of sense: the outside should probably stay outside to avoid infections. "Isn' it cool how some'uv nature makes you healthier an' some'uv it makes you sicker?" you remark, your enthusiastic tone making it quite apparent how cool you think it is.
Grinning back at the Loren, you shake your head bemusedly, stepping toward the College wall and putting a hand atop the mud. "I dunno- civilization isn't so comfortable if y'ask me. Everythin's all hard edges an' straight lines an' closed spaces." Reaching out with your magic, you coax some of the lingering mud onto your arm, letting it wrap itself around your limb for future transport to someplace where it will be properly appreciated.
But it isn't the mud's fault, y'know?
Wounds not getting dirty also makes a degree of sense: the outside should probably stay outside to avoid infections. "Isn' it cool how some'uv nature makes you healthier an' some'uv it makes you sicker?" you remark, your enthusiastic tone making it quite apparent how cool you think it is.
Grinning back at the Loren, you shake your head bemusedly, stepping toward the College wall and putting a hand atop the mud. "I dunno- civilization isn't so comfortable if y'ask me. Everythin's all hard edges an' straight lines an' closed spaces." Reaching out with your magic, you coax some of the lingering mud onto your arm, letting it wrap itself around your limb for future transport to someplace where it will be properly appreciated.
