Hannibal's house, Sunday morning

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan still had no idea where he was, but this place wasn't too bad. He probably wouldn't call it Paradise, so he hoped it wasn't for good, but - not bad.

He pulled aside one of the drapes to look out the glass-paned window. He wasn't much of a singing type, but he found himself doing it anyway. "Sol esse lucet, nubes absunt."

No, not a bad day, he supposed.




[OOC: Yay for Black Sabbath in Latin! :D Open post for anyone who stayed the night or wants to drop by.]

Comments

[14andseven]

Piper had been hoping to find something to change into that wasn't her prison khakis, but the house was apparently full of very well tailored men's suits. She wasn't really looking to pull the whole "girl in an oversized shirt as a dress" look, so khakis it was.

At least this place had plenty of food. And a decent, if very scruffy and non-English-speaking host.

"That's pretty," she said as she headed for the fridge. "And I just realized that you were trying to speak Latin yesterday. I feel like an idiot."

[sharp_as_knives]

Between his accent and the fact it wasn't exactly the first thing you expected, he could hardly have blamed her. Tristan smiled over his shoulder at her, then turned to join her in the kitchen. "Salve. Ientaculum?" he asked hopefully, nodding at the refrigerator.

[14andseven]

"Unfortunately, I don't speak Latin," Piper said with a sigh. "Food?" she said. "I don't suppose you know how to cook in here."

This house didn't match this guy at all. Maybe he was housesitting.

She'd had some luck with housesitters. . . .

[sharp_as_knives]

This house was a perfect match for him! You know, most days.

Tristan just shrugged; clearly neither of them spoke a language the other knew. He could, however, open the door he'd found to the tiny cold-store, showing her what was there. Eggs, at least, he recognised, and he was pretty sure about the meat and cheese, but it was covered strangely. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

[14andseven]

Piper was just as happy talking to herself, too. "There's some good stuff in here," she said, reaching in to grab a couple items, checking labels and sniffing the eggs. "I could do an omelette?" she suggested, holing up the eggs. "Or, well, maybe scrambled eggs with stuff in them."

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan smiled and nodded. Eggs were good. Now all they needed was some sort of fire. There was wood in the other room, which he went to fetch; this floor looked sturdy enough to build something on. Or should they go outside?

[14andseven]

Well, now, where was he going? Piper shrugged and checked through the cabinets until she found a pan. It didn't look very teflon-y. Was she supposed to oil it first, then?

She shrugged, put it on the stove, and turned on the burner. There may have been a few moments of happily admiring the blue gas flame, the smells and rhythms of the kitchen.

"It's the simple things you miss the most." She cracked an egg over the pan and watched it fry, then cursed. She was going to scramble that. . . .

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan came back with the wood, and stared for a second at the fire already going, then shrugged and set the wood back down. That was definitely a handy trick, however she'd done it.

Hannibal and his floors owed you one, Piper.

[14andseven]

Huh. Why was he carrying wood?

"I kind of already messed up omelettes," Piper said. "But if we've got bread, I can make them breakfast sandwiches." She hoped.

She tried to make a bread shape with her hands. "Bread? Oh jesus, what's the word. . . . Pan? No, that's Spanish. . . ."

[sharp_as_knives]

Close enough, especially given she was cooking! "Pane?" Tristan brightened a bit - hey, a word they shared! And he'd even found some of that yesterday while exploring. He went to the breadbox in the corner and opened it up; there were an Italian loaf crusted with seeds and a dense loaf of wheat bread. "Tibī placet?"

[14andseven]

One solitary word. "Oo, not the seedy one." That was more of a side dish bread. She pointed. "The brown one. Uh, marrón?"

What? Spanish worked a minute ago. Maybe she'd luck out.

[sharp_as_knives]

Nope, sorry; one word it was! But pointing was good. He took out the bread and handed it to her. And he knew where the knives were, too (very good knives), so he got a largish one of those and flipped it over hilt-first.

[furnaceface]

Right. So, things clearly weren't quite all in order here on the island this weekend. It looked to Jono as though perhaps Portalocity's shenanigans had saved him from something off, here, and so he was going to be somewhat thankful for the mishap. Still, he figured the least he could do would be to check in on some of the other people he knew on the island, and one person in particular jumped to mind.

//Knock knock?//

Maybe he'd just try that door...

[sharp_as_knives]

That...was Tristan hearing things? There had been a voice, but nobody here...But there was somebody who wanted in? He cautiously went over to the door and opened it (he'd figured out the locks, but they seemed ridiculously puny, so he hadn't bothered putting them back on).

He cocked his head curiously at the man on the other side. His dress didn't seem like anything Tristan knew, nor like either of the women he'd seen here. "Salve. Quis tu?"

Maybe the one person here who spoke Latin? Tristan could always hope.

[furnaceface]

... So, not Hannibal, then. Jono blinked and stared for a moment, because while the resemblance was uncanny, Hannibal... would probably not be caught dead looking like that.

And then he sort of registered the latin. Or at least the gist of it.

//... Er. Friend.// He put his hand to his chest, and sent the closest to the feel of the word itself as he possibly could. Telepathy had its uses there, at least. //I'm a friend.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan just blinked back at him for a moment. Then squinted. "Tuo voce in mea capitis est?"

[furnaceface]

Jono took a moment to parse, himself. How in the world had it come so naturally when he couldn't remember who the hell he was? Maybe his problem was that he was thinking about it too hard.

//In your...// Head. Right. //It's how I talk.//

He gestured to his face.

//Too badly injured. This is the only voice I have.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan didn't quite get all of that, but the gist made it through. "Non intellego nihil." He gestured at himself. "Tristan. Tu?"

[furnaceface]

Poor guy. Jonothon nodded a little, sympathetically, and then gestured back to himself.

//Jono. Jonothon. And would it help if I were to tell you...// Right. Getting a little wordsy, there, Jon. //... Things should be normal again soon. Er. Home again soon?//

Clearly, he needed to learn more Latin. Latin? Poor man probably kept hearing shades of his own language whenever somebody spoke to him in English, but not enough to follow along.

[sharp_as_knives]

Pretty much. Except for the part about Latin being his language. He was pretty sure no-one here spoke Scythian, though. "Domum propere?" He shrugged. "Bonum."

This place was very strange. Besides, he had an oath to Arthur that was a bit difficult to fulfill from wherever here was. Fandom.

[furnaceface]

//Bonum,// Jono agreed with a little nod. //In the meantime, are you comfortable? Can I help with anything?//

He seemed to be doing fairly okay, at least. Not starving to death or beating on people or anything like that.

[sharp_as_knives]

Well, he had Piper to thank for the former and his generally laconic nature for the latter. Fighting and killing was fun, but unless he had a reason, he was just as happy not to.

Though he really preferred not to get rusty. Knives he could practice inside (Hannibal was going to love the holes in the back of his chair), but even he didn't sleep with his bow, nor had he been able to find one. "Tu arcus habeus?"

[furnaceface]

//Arcus? Oh, a bow?// Jono considered that question for a moment, and then nodded. //Brought one back with me after the Glacian war, actually. Haven't had much use for it lately, though. It might be a bit dusty.//

Jono had a lot of weapons he really had no use for these days. Go figure.

[sharp_as_knives]

It took Tristan a moment to process the meaning that time - less because of the words and more because of the concept. Dusty?

You were getting a horrified, affronted Look there, Jono. Even if you didn't use a weapon, you should treat it with respect!

You were also getting a curse in an obscure dialect of a long-dead language. "Ubi es?"