Benedict is at risk of losing himself in thought entirely when Strange interrupts him, yielding a little smile that verges on grateful. It's rare to be asked of the positives, even when there are so few left.
"The seaside," he answers almost immediately, "my family home overlooks the Nocen Sea. Miles of golden sand and water like a cool bath, parties and open-air markets with the best food and wine you can imagine."
So nothing like Kirkwall, with its sharp rocks and sewage and freezing water and mouldering alehouses.
"The closest I've seen to it was in the Rialto Bay," he adds, with a little smirk and shake of his head, "but it's not the same." Nothing can compare to an openly magical civilization.
Golden sand and water, parties and open-air markets. It’s such a different picture from their present-day scrabbling and striving in wartime, and Strange finds himself unexpectedly wistful, listening to Benedict and imagining it. The way he himself looks back on New York, on endless conveniences and everyday luxuries and portalling himself to the tropics for a nighttime swim.
“I’ve heard Rialto’s nice. Skinny-dipping in the warm ocean, that sort of thing.”
Adding, contemplative, “I’d have liked to see Minrathous. Properly, before all this, I mean. The way it was supposed to be.”
no subject
"The seaside," he answers almost immediately, "my family home overlooks the Nocen Sea. Miles of golden sand and water like a cool bath, parties and open-air markets with the best food and wine you can imagine."
So nothing like Kirkwall, with its sharp rocks and sewage and freezing water and mouldering alehouses.
"The closest I've seen to it was in the Rialto Bay," he adds, with a little smirk and shake of his head, "but it's not the same." Nothing can compare to an openly magical civilization.
no subject
“I’ve heard Rialto’s nice. Skinny-dipping in the warm ocean, that sort of thing.”
Adding, contemplative, “I’d have liked to see Minrathous. Properly, before all this, I mean. The way it was supposed to be.”