musetothemusic:
Her eyes flash a different color, and the Joxter wonders what power she is using, if it is anything like his Forebodings, which also cause his eyes to glow. The color fades as quickly as it crops up, though, so whatever she sees must not be too bad. He supposes he will leave it.
“Piltovians,” he says, pronouncing the word one syllable at a time. Even that word is graceful, rolling off the tongue like gentle waves against the sand. Even the most graceful creatures he knows are still called Snorks with a hard and powerful ‘K’ at the end. ‘Piltovian’ has no such sounds.
He is confused as to why she is trying to call them humans, even though she just said they were called Piltovians. “Well, that don’t make a lotta sense,” he says, although he gives no sign that the illogical nature of her statement really bothers him. “I’ve met a lotta humans before y’all, ‘n’ none a’ them had all the metal bits. Just like I can’t be a human ‘cause I’m a Joxter.”
Even if Piltovians are a little mixed up about what they are, he finds it endearing. “Well, whatever the case, s’nice t’ meet ya, Camille.”
If she wants to treat him to lunch, though, he will not complain. He is never one to reject free food. “Well, sure,” he says, “that’s mighty kind of ya, Camille. I could go f’r a bite. Been a minute since I ate much ‘sides ocean fish.”
Perhaps the man is from another plane of existence, or possibly a different dimension. Yordles are heralded to come from other dimension’s and even if he is no yordle she would not be surprised. Stranger things have been known to happen in this city.
It is also possible that he simply comes from some backwater village not important enough to warrant being placed on a map, or found yet.
“We are not born this way. We augment ourselves, some in the name of progress, other’s because they think it-” Her lip curls with vague disgust as she leads The Joxter through the streets of Piltover. “Look’s ‘cool’.” Without turning her head, she gestures towards someone who is passing them. “They lack any augmentation, and as such should fit your view of a human.”
He might not enjoy the food they have at this restaurant, but so long as he eats in a polite enough manner it matters little. She has little doubt her niece will waste no expense in getting her guest the best she can. Palm pressing to the bar, Camille depresses down on the push bar and holds the door open for her guest. She waits for him to enter before following after.
“Ferros.” She announces to the hostess, loathe to waste more time. Immediately the woman gets into her spiel, announcing the house special, grabbing menu’s, and finally leading them towards her niece.
