What's a Napoleon complex? Esteban's eyebrows pinch and his eyes widen as he tries-- but he guesses it's something to do with height? Still, they move along too fast, and he doesn't think it's that important compared to what he learns next.
Oof.
Sometimes-- often times-- Esteban forgets that people have been here far longer than he has. It's not something that registers well to him, always moving forwards, having too much trouble looking backwards. But of course, people have been here for far longer, possibly years, though he's never asked per say. He thinks he could track it down somehow, but it's not really helpful here. The cycle of finding people and losing them is familiar to him though, and words catch at his throat, not quite able to find what he wants to say.
"We'll get them back." He manages with an encouraging smile, even though Esteban doesn't know if that really helps. It hadn't-- he hadn't been able to help last time someone mentioned the tethers. He's not smart enough for that.
The change of subject is a welcome diversion, and Esteban glances at his journal, before peering at his friend, the smile growing toothy and bright as he snickers.
"Don't really have the patience for that," he mentions, shrugging easily. "Readin's too still, too--" his hands waver in place in straight lines that don't move, trying to convey the lack of movement through half-meaningless gestures. His nose scrunches and a light frown mars his face, before he turns at Kaiba again, gestures and grimace gone as he beams.
"This thing's far more 'mportant than a book~" He's bright and eager as he says this, pulling the journal to face himself and cracking it open, flicking through the pages. Only a few of them have any writing settled on them, and Esteban lets each page linger between them as he grins. "I'm collectin' my friend's alphabets!" he claims easily, this little treasure he allows himself, a shard of them that he won't lose so easily.
He presses the journal open on a fresh, blank page, as he lays it against the stone, flicking a pen from the back of the leather-bound journal where it was tucked.
"See, 'f I write y'r name, it'd go like this in Draconic!" his enthusiasm is palpable when he writes out Kaiba's name in the forwards-slanting letters of his mothertongue. His hand is surprisingly smooth and steady as he writes, letters round and clean and perfectly spaced. He deliberately sets it at the top right of the page, and the line under it gets the next script.
"This is in Elvish-- my father's language." It had been such a pain for him to learn all three alphabets, after all, but he's still glad that he has, finishing up with the common letters of most mortal races at the bottom, with a grin and a "here's in Common; somethin' more casual y'd see pretty much anywhere."
It takes a minute for the SCA to translate the new lines on the page into something legible, and even through it, each letter still has a very distinct shape. There's a short pause before Esteban jumps lightly, and snatches the journal back, before adding more scribbles at the bottom, all three of them and passing it back to Kaiba.
"An' here it is for Snapper, in the same order!" he shares eagerly, before passing the journal and the pen to his friend with a grin and a snicker.
"Now it's y'r turn!" he adds, a half-demand more than a request, but there's no doubt Esteban is looking forwards to seeing Kaiba's own handwriting in his precious journal.
no subject
Oof.
Sometimes-- often times-- Esteban forgets that people have been here far longer than he has. It's not something that registers well to him, always moving forwards, having too much trouble looking backwards. But of course, people have been here for far longer, possibly years, though he's never asked per say. He thinks he could track it down somehow, but it's not really helpful here. The cycle of finding people and losing them is familiar to him though, and words catch at his throat, not quite able to find what he wants to say.
"We'll get them back." He manages with an encouraging smile, even though Esteban doesn't know if that really helps. It hadn't-- he hadn't been able to help last time someone mentioned the tethers. He's not smart enough for that.
The change of subject is a welcome diversion, and Esteban glances at his journal, before peering at his friend, the smile growing toothy and bright as he snickers.
"Don't really have the patience for that," he mentions, shrugging easily. "Readin's too still, too--" his hands waver in place in straight lines that don't move, trying to convey the lack of movement through half-meaningless gestures. His nose scrunches and a light frown mars his face, before he turns at Kaiba again, gestures and grimace gone as he beams.
"This thing's far more 'mportant than a book~" He's bright and eager as he says this, pulling the journal to face himself and cracking it open, flicking through the pages. Only a few of them have any writing settled on them, and Esteban lets each page linger between them as he grins. "I'm collectin' my friend's alphabets!" he claims easily, this little treasure he allows himself, a shard of them that he won't lose so easily.
He presses the journal open on a fresh, blank page, as he lays it against the stone, flicking a pen from the back of the leather-bound journal where it was tucked.
"See, 'f I write y'r name, it'd go like this in Draconic!" his enthusiasm is palpable when he writes out Kaiba's name in the forwards-slanting letters of his mothertongue. His hand is surprisingly smooth and steady as he writes, letters round and clean and perfectly spaced. He deliberately sets it at the top right of the page, and the line under it gets the next script.
"This is in Elvish-- my father's language." It had been such a pain for him to learn all three alphabets, after all, but he's still glad that he has, finishing up with the common letters of most mortal races at the bottom, with a grin and a "here's in Common; somethin' more casual y'd see pretty much anywhere."
It takes a minute for the SCA to translate the new lines on the page into something legible, and even through it, each letter still has a very distinct shape. There's a short pause before Esteban jumps lightly, and snatches the journal back, before adding more scribbles at the bottom, all three of them and passing it back to Kaiba.
"An' here it is for Snapper, in the same order!" he shares eagerly, before passing the journal and the pen to his friend with a grin and a snicker.
"Now it's y'r turn!" he adds, a half-demand more than a request, but there's no doubt Esteban is looking forwards to seeing Kaiba's own handwriting in his precious journal.