theindigoflirtâ:
Mysterious Disappearances (Inigo & Mozu)
Sand slides underneath his boots. Walking with all this extra weight in his arms is not going to be easy. âGlasses, eh?â Inigo suppresses a laugh at the image of some stern king wearing reading glasses. âHe certainly sounds extremely dedicated to his work.â
One of the books on top of his stack teeters dangerously to the side. He leans back quickly, holding down the leather bound volume with his chin. Fantastic. As if making his way across the camp wasnât hard enough already.
Mozuâs constant stream of chatter is a welcome distraction. So that explains the peculiar accent. It couldnât hurt to learn about both countries, especially from someone as straightforward as her. Being prepared is never a bad thing.
He risked a glance over his shoulder. âThey donât use mistletoe?â See, those are the kinds of things fancy royals would forget to mention. Inigo shakes his head, regretting the action when he feels the book slipping underneath him. âThen how am I supposed to properly celebrate the season?â
His tent, thank Naga, isnât far. He manages to maneuver his way inside, dumping his stack of books unceremoniously on the ground. They landed with a resounding thump. Inigo has the decency to wince as he holds the tent flap open for Mozu.
âI think Iâd only slow us down if I tried to decipher Nohrian. I can take notes if we find anything interesting?â Inigo suggests. Searching endless pages of information has never been his strong suit, but heâs had plenty of practice with his friends. Recording information always came in handy in case they needed a point of reference. âMake yourself at home, my lady.â
As subtly as he can, he sinks to the floor and crosses his long legs, leaving the bed open for her. âSeriously, tell me more about this not mistletoe.â
âOh, you bet. I swear, that man is gonna work himself inta an early grave. Xannieâs a great man, anâ a great king, but he gets too anxious âbout not doinâ stuff anâ how that might affect Nohr- Itâs a damn miracle his siblings got him tah come to the academy to take a break that still has some work so he doesnât go stir crazy âr nothinâ.â She hums, keeping up her walk as she starts her mini-culture lecture.Â
âOh, they got a similar tradition, anâ I ainât sure âbout Hoshidans, but Nohrians- so commoners usuâly hang sprigs of angelica or mint or some kinda similar herb over their doors tah welcome in growth in the cominâ year and tah encourage relationships of various kinds tah thrive, a most folks hug âre kiss beneath it- itâs sweet!â She lets out a low whistle, starting to settle in. âBut the nobles- they hang belladonna over their door frames. Yah know, the poisonous berry plant thatâll kill a kid who eats one âre two âa the berries? But yeah, they hang it up tah threaten possible enemies as a pissinâ contest pretty much. An invitation âa âpoison me in ma own home, coward, try it,â anâ they also say it encourages continued life since theyâre bringinâ a death plant intah their homes to soak up the death, I sâpose. Plus, folks âre supposed tah kiss under the belladonna as a sign âa goodwill, anâ also to show that they didnât have ill intent âre wanna kill yah flat up.â
She whistles- a low sound. âShoot, that was a lot more convoluted than I remembered it beinâ. Sorry âbout that.â Instead, she stretches a bit before sitting on the floor right over by him, cause she missed sitting on the ground proper and reading like she was in Nyxâs library again, learning to read. She hums, popping open one of the books. âAnâ yeah, how âbout I jusâ read off weird shit and you write it on down fer us tah look over later anâ see if we can still make heads âr tails of it.â










