Game recommendation: Rimworld. There's just so much happening all the time, it's not getting boring. I lost my first colony after hardly a year, after fighting malaria, installing several peg legs, fighting rampaging animals, killing mad prisoners and taming a bear.
"So… How was it like? School, I mean." I asked, pouring the reheated Fumee back into the cups it had cooled off in.
"What do you think? Normal. Like any school."
"I've never gone to school."
He looked up from his porridge with amazement. "You- Was it all books? For everything?"
I didn't think before bringing up this topic, but now it was making me a little bit sad, melancholic, to recall. "Hm. Something like that, yes. My mother taught me how to read and write. After that lectures were all visits to the library. There were no real teachers or even many children in my clan, so there was no other way. At the same time I learned the same things my older brother learned and he's two years older." I didn't notice when I'd unconciously started to mush my rockeggs. All my family was still back home. Goosebumbs spread all over my skin thinking of that place. I just had to leave.
"Impressive. That's why you went straight for the books." The Master noted. "And that's the first time you mentioned your family. Bad blood?"
"Is this about me now? Not fair." Now I had to pay for all I took, ey? I guess it also wasn't fair to make him answer all of my questions while not answering any of his. But my family… They're not embarrassing or anything I just… don't like thinking about them. Especially my brother… I pulled my legs up onto the chair with layed back wings. "I wouldn't call it 'bad blood'. It's more like we live in different universes entirely." Was that enough? He looked at me. Or through me? Anyways, he wasn't moving a muscle, like he was thinking about something again. That always made me nervous. "W-well… I didn't want to become the wife of the son of my father's assistant." Zumul Feathersteel, what a twat. By Lor, he's thirty years older than me and is dumb as a rock. How could father even accept the proposal. No offence, rocks.
Master Zargeth still didn't move. He just sat there, curling his moustache between two fingers, apparently thinking. Or just listening? "What's your surname, Kyriel?" he then asked out of the blue.
"And your Squall?"
"Miststa-… Miststalker, also." Damn, it was a trap.
"Kyriel Miststalker of the Miststalker Squall. I see. I get you."
"Then what's your whole name, Master?" Actually, why did we wait for months before telling each other our names?
"Don't you know already?" Did I? "Zargeth Elvaai." OH, riiiight, I read that.
"Elvaai… That sounds nice…" It sounds less aggressive than 'Miststalker'. "What does it mean? Does it have meaning?"
"I'm not entirely familiar with the old language, but I remember it meaning something like 'hunter in moonlight' or 'searcher in the night', 'Starscout'." He laughed. "Maybe even 'walking in the dark'."
We sat there silently unsure what to do. Already a while ago we'd finished eating and normally we'd practice spell casting outside after breakfast (Well, it was already noon after all that had happened.) though the storm continued to whip its tails against the shutters. It reminded me of home. My Squall was not practicing magic, but they loved to summon storms like this, with or without rain, to send out hunting parties. Winds are naturally light (hollow bones and all), we move faster when carried by the wind.
Master Zargeth got up. "Let's practice in the study."