Long words, bereft of meaning
"She’s fussing for the sake of fussing, you’re aware of that. I’m sure she trusts you, but…I think she just doesn’t want to see me grow up, you know? She’s so used to calling me ‘little Kanaya’ and her ‘virágszirom’," Which roughly translates back to Hungarian as ‘flower petal’, "It must be scary for her. I’m not little Kanaya anymore, hiding behind her back from strangers and begging her to take me to the theatre, I’m 5’9 Kanaya and I’m pursuing my dreams of being the one onstage, pursuing it in America, three years from being an adult." Forgetting that she hadn’t rolled down her window yet, she did so on that particularly somber note.
As the subject moved, so did Kanaya’s thoughts. It was probably best to not dither on such depressing thoughts, even if growing up was hard. It was hard and no one understood. “Economy was cramped as ever and clearly not built for people who are over 5’5, and I found my shoulder being used as a pillow by a seven year old in the middle of the flight. I was fine with it until he began drooling, at that point I absconded to the bathroom.” She shook her head as she managed to crack a smile, before turning her attention back to Porrim. “Remind me, which ‘magnet’ are you? While I still don’t totally understand what that means, I imagine I should probably know which department to run off to in case of sisterly dramas.”
She took a pause as she realised that she hadn’t updated her sister on one particular subject in her life. “…Possibly involving girls. Romance. And girls. Females. Giiiirlsss.” There. That was a totally adequate way of telling your older sister that you’re a massive homosexual.
"I am an art magnet, specializing in fashion design. You should mostly run off to my dorm, in those situations, it's room 103." She trailed off as her sister began talking again, only to burst out in laughter. "Oh, to think I could have phrased it like that instead of leaving a note to my gay mothers saying 'Help me please, everyone is hot.'. Don't worry, I will help you with the romance and the girls and the romancing of the girls." Porrim weaved her way through the exits, tributaries off of the main road, capillaries, whatever trite and overused metaphor you wanted to use to endear someone to the poetic nature of this highway, those were the roads she chose, trying desperately to not pass any novelty shops on the way to the school. Kanaya didn't need anymore luggage. Despite herself, she chuckled every few minutes remembering her sister's bizarre phrasing. That certainly was one way to come out.












