(329)
Vasiliy is by me!
Aye, he said, nodding solemnly. Much, much far north -- almost on top of world, he added, the solemnity disappearing from his face quickly enough, replaced by a grin. He hadn't imagined the arctic touched this side of the world -- Vasiliy had seen maps before, but he hardly understood them. There were so many shapes, so many different names written in painstaking, tiny handwriting. He supposed it made sense -- if the world was round, the place from whence he'd come would share similarities to the northernmost parts of this continent. You are arctic, too? he asked, surprised.
Her question was considered with a tilt of his head, and Vasi leaned back a moment, uncertain where to start. He hadn't seen all the lands across the sea -- there were many cities he did not even know the name of, let alone villages and smaller places. But -- by and large, he knew where he had come from was distinctly different from this place. Surely, there were tiny villages tucked away into the forest somewhere in Europe or Asia, mirroring Thornbury, but... they certainly weren't the norm. He straightened up and looked on her carving a moment before answering.
Well -- it is place, much like any other, he started, speaking slowly as he pieced his thoughts together. Some wolves, they live very close together, in thing called city. Sobirat'sya, where I come from, is not city, but much smaller. Still -- lots bigger than Cercatori d'Arte. It was city, but only in times of people. Many buildings, but short, squat, he said, making a scaled approximation of the average building size with his hands. Many falling to pieces, but some still solid. Cold is no good for old things, but better than wet and damp, I think. He looked at her with a touch of apprehension, wondering if this was an adequate explanation. He didn't feel like it was, but perhaps Dalgina would take a different view.
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