they will shake their heads and wag their fingers
by daybreak we'll be gone
Bastien had heard whispers like Oia's all of his life. In Venice he'd regularly hear 'an indian?' (and often things much worse, but he did not care to remember those) in the same tones of curiosity and excitement. Long ago he'd learnt not to let it bother him - so he smiled and nodded. "Indeed, an Outlander. I am from somewhere not very much like this at all."A little offended his offer to come inside was apparently being rejected (there had been people in Venice who would have given their first born for wine with Bastien De Rosieres), he looked to the studio then back out. "Well. As an Ascended I cannot come out to join you in the sunshine without some difficulty, and inside I have paintings to show you, music to play for you. As well as the aforementioned wine."
BASTIEN
