Ascending Legend
Iandre's smile lingered as she reached for the edge of the table, catching the attention of a nearby attendant with a small, practiced gesture. She inclined her head toward Vulpesen's empty mug.
"Another of whatever he's having," she said easily, tone polite but assured. "On me."
Only once that was settled did she turn back to him, her expression thoughtful rather than playful now, though the warmth never quite left her eyes.
"I think I understand more than you might expect," she continued, resting her forearms lightly on the table. "The Lilaste Order isn't a monastery. We train as soldiers, live together, and deploy together. Meals are rarely quiet, rarely solitary."
A faint smile touched her lips at the memory. "You eat when you can, where you can. Long tables. Armor stacked in corners. People talking over one another, arguing tactics, sharing bad jokes, mourning losses they haven't had time to process yet." She exhaled softly. "Privacy becomes a luxury you forget how to expect."
Her gaze lifted back to him, a spark of amused understanding there. "So yes," she said, a soft laugh threading through her words, "I can imagine your eateries rather well. Loud. Crowded. No such thing as 'just passing through' without someone pulling you into conversation."
The attendant returned then, setting the fresh drink before Vulpesen. Iandre nodded her thanks before continuing.
"In that environment, you learn something important," she added more quietly. "Unity isn't an abstract ideal. It's forged in shared space. Shared meals. Shared mess."
Her smile returned, gentler now, sincere. "So if your people consider eating with one other person a sign of intimacy or mischief…" she glanced briefly at the mug she'd ordered for him, then back to his face, "I suspect I'd fit in better than I might have guessed."
Vulpesen
"Another of whatever he's having," she said easily, tone polite but assured. "On me."
Only once that was settled did she turn back to him, her expression thoughtful rather than playful now, though the warmth never quite left her eyes.
"I think I understand more than you might expect," she continued, resting her forearms lightly on the table. "The Lilaste Order isn't a monastery. We train as soldiers, live together, and deploy together. Meals are rarely quiet, rarely solitary."
A faint smile touched her lips at the memory. "You eat when you can, where you can. Long tables. Armor stacked in corners. People talking over one another, arguing tactics, sharing bad jokes, mourning losses they haven't had time to process yet." She exhaled softly. "Privacy becomes a luxury you forget how to expect."
Her gaze lifted back to him, a spark of amused understanding there. "So yes," she said, a soft laugh threading through her words, "I can imagine your eateries rather well. Loud. Crowded. No such thing as 'just passing through' without someone pulling you into conversation."
The attendant returned then, setting the fresh drink before Vulpesen. Iandre nodded her thanks before continuing.
"In that environment, you learn something important," she added more quietly. "Unity isn't an abstract ideal. It's forged in shared space. Shared meals. Shared mess."
Her smile returned, gentler now, sincere. "So if your people consider eating with one other person a sign of intimacy or mischief…" she glanced briefly at the mug she'd ordered for him, then back to his face, "I suspect I'd fit in better than I might have guessed."
Vulpesen