“Things are different in the north.” The small male groaned as if he’d already explained this countless times already. Language was different. Manners and expectations were different. Many things were different. Maybe they’d take this as an acceptable answer he hoped, and let the issue drop.
Of course. They could have been just making fun of him. Which they clearly were, because as soon as he opened his mouth to explain, they both began to ask him things in rapid succession about what exactly was different. And apparently it was amusing, as they were laughing. Len-Alas just found it irritating, and sunk head deep into the warm waters. He closed his eyes tried to ignore the muffled sound of their voices, and think of something else. Something more pleasant. Like being in the Arcanaeum, reading an old book with worn ink and a bent spine. Novices chattering loudly about things that were far too personal, and far too irrelevant to be held in public, in a library. And soon Urag gro-Shub would shout at them to shut up and take their business elsewhere.
Or his limbs could be yanked free from the water, and he could be pulled violently from his pleasant memories of Skyrim and brought back to his current situation. Their situation truly, yet his blighted mate was off sleeping comfortably in another section of the camp, while Len’s nose was being violated with the too strong scents of whatever they had with them.
Still they chattered on, some of which he was sure were questions that he couldn’t be arsed to answer, or acknowledge. He looked over at what he was expected to be wearing soon. Long dress. Elegant. Made from some light fabric or another. It looked like it would have restricted movement. And drag on the swamp floor. How were they expecting him to wear something that ridiculous?
“You’re quite dirty, doesn’t Jeer-Kilaya ever bathe you?” she said scrubbing at his face slowly rubbing away at the face paint and dirt.
After those bits of the washing was done Beelerius looked over her shoulder to the long dress and began to wrap it around Len.
As soon as she was done you could tell that it was going to be hard to move in it.
The Agaceph coughed, picking at the sides of the bright fabric that clung to his scales. He didn’t care if his claws ripped the light material, he just wanted to breath. It wasn’t that much to ask, was it? “Is this truly necessary?”