"Not... like humans. We just - we draw on magic from the Mists. Shape it into another." What an odd question. "What does that have to do with the topic at hand...?"
At first, confusion; then, Benedict catches his meaning and laughs again.
“You should drink more water,” he advises— only twice, sheesh— “but there’s.”
He pauses, collects himself. This isn’t the most appropriate conversation to have in public, and Maker knows he wouldn’t want someone talking about his equipment so casually.
“There are other things,” he explains, gentling his tone, “I can… find you some books. If you like.”
To do or say more at the moment would be… it doesn’t feel right. Vlast is far from a child, but an innocence like his is a delicate thing, too easily upset by haste and carelessness.
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"Not... like humans. We just - we draw on magic from the Mists. Shape it into another." What an odd question. "What does that have to do with the topic at hand...?"
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"Do you," Benedict asks, in a low and concerned voice, "do you know how more people are made?"
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He doesn't.
“Sadizi explained it all to me.”
He really didn't.
“I'm not sure what biting has to do with it. One would think that would be antithetical to whole process.”
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“Tell me how.”
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Duh.
"He mentioned something about fluids but I had already lost interest by then."
There's a brief, thoughtful moment.
"I also know humans carry their young in their belly. It looks... uncomfortable."
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He steadies himself a moment, swallows, and smiles in a strangled sort of way.
“Which appendage,” he asks.
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"The one I didn't have before coming here."
And which makes wearing pants such a fucking ordeal.
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“You haven’t used it yet,” he guesses, and pops a bit of cheese into his mouth, smirking.
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"Of course I have. At least twice a day."
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“You should drink more water,” he advises— only twice, sheesh— “but there’s.”
He pauses, collects himself. This isn’t the most appropriate conversation to have in public, and Maker knows he wouldn’t want someone talking about his equipment so casually.
“There are other things,” he explains, gentling his tone, “I can… find you some books. If you like.”
To do or say more at the moment would be… it doesn’t feel right. Vlast is far from a child, but an innocence like his is a delicate thing, too easily upset by haste and carelessness.
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"I doubt it could hurt," Vlast admits. "There are... many gaps in my understanding of people. I know this now."
He still doesn't get what his mother saw in mortals. Maybe he never will. But he's starting to see what questions he should have been asking.