14th Fall 505AV
"You have to tell me what you want to hear, Fia," Johanne said softly, but she knew her friend would hear her over the noises of the kitchen. Fia was a little thing, much smaller than Johanne's lanky height, but that did not make her any less formidable. Indeed, compared to Johanne with her quiet voice and her mousy brown hair, she was positively frightening. At this present moment, her soft red-headed friend was cooking the kitchen up into submission. Johanne's stomach rumbled in anticipation.
"You know I'm no good at telling stories aloud." Johanne watched her fingers twist and turn, picking at skins and nails, the very picture of unease. But Johanne had known Fia Eaven for years; since she had started at the Academy. Fia was much more Denvalian than she was: practical, to the point, sensible. Johanne's head was up in the clouds too often, too often her gaze fixed on the horizon, but still, Fia saw something in her. They'd been friends for a while, now. Perhaps one of the few true friends Johanne would ever have. "If you want to make this any easier, you'll need to tell me exactly what you want. An epic story, perhaps, of gods and battles? Or maybe a simpler one, of lovers and suffering."
It did not really matter which Fia chose. Johanne was incredibly nervous telling any of the stories she knew aloud. Give her a pen, and she would write with ease, her hand fluttering across the page like the wind. But ask her to speak the characters aloud and her voice would be stuck in her throat like a grumpy old frog. Fia was desperate enough for stories that she didn't mind. Johanne could not help but feel an obligation to her friend: the letters danced on the page for Fia, so much so that she could not read them, and it was only fair that Johanne translate for the Denvali.
She watched Fia bustle round the kitchen, chopping up vegetables, boiling water over fire. Half-rising, Johanne started for the girl, but decided not to take up too much of her teenage friend's room. "Is there anything I can do to help, Fia? I feel bad, just sitting here, watching you do all the work..."
"You have to tell me what you want to hear, Fia," Johanne said softly, but she knew her friend would hear her over the noises of the kitchen. Fia was a little thing, much smaller than Johanne's lanky height, but that did not make her any less formidable. Indeed, compared to Johanne with her quiet voice and her mousy brown hair, she was positively frightening. At this present moment, her soft red-headed friend was cooking the kitchen up into submission. Johanne's stomach rumbled in anticipation.
"You know I'm no good at telling stories aloud." Johanne watched her fingers twist and turn, picking at skins and nails, the very picture of unease. But Johanne had known Fia Eaven for years; since she had started at the Academy. Fia was much more Denvalian than she was: practical, to the point, sensible. Johanne's head was up in the clouds too often, too often her gaze fixed on the horizon, but still, Fia saw something in her. They'd been friends for a while, now. Perhaps one of the few true friends Johanne would ever have. "If you want to make this any easier, you'll need to tell me exactly what you want. An epic story, perhaps, of gods and battles? Or maybe a simpler one, of lovers and suffering."
It did not really matter which Fia chose. Johanne was incredibly nervous telling any of the stories she knew aloud. Give her a pen, and she would write with ease, her hand fluttering across the page like the wind. But ask her to speak the characters aloud and her voice would be stuck in her throat like a grumpy old frog. Fia was desperate enough for stories that she didn't mind. Johanne could not help but feel an obligation to her friend: the letters danced on the page for Fia, so much so that she could not read them, and it was only fair that Johanne translate for the Denvali.
She watched Fia bustle round the kitchen, chopping up vegetables, boiling water over fire. Half-rising, Johanne started for the girl, but decided not to take up too much of her teenage friend's room. "Is there anything I can do to help, Fia? I feel bad, just sitting here, watching you do all the work..."
