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

[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?"