[ Nate squints at him, sidelong and speculative. ]
Was it, though?
[ Rhetorical. Doesn't matter either which way, as they head into the tunnel. It's been a while since Nate even came down here, partly because of how busy things got and partly because he simply didn't have the inclination. Traveling by himself is fine - he used to enjoy it a great deal - but these days it's a fairly lonesome endeavor. ]
How's your Tibetan?
[ Nate asks conversationally, as though any language won't be automatically translated by their implants. Really takes the fun out of learning. ]
[ Answered pleasantly, with the unabashed implication that he doesn't speak a speck of Greek. Fortunately, it doesn't matter in the slightest. He trails along at Nate's shoulder, just an inch or two behind to take directive. No idea where he's going here, please lead on.
The last time he followed Nate like this he's pretty sure Nate was walking backwards, and — ]
It is so much better to be doing this on the ground without the threat of terrifying death, by the way.
[ The laugh bursts out of him, surprised and delighted, because while Nate is accustomed to being called out for his bullshit it's so rarely done with the same kind of characteristic aplomb. Sixty stories up was pretty extreme for a first excursion, and he won't argue that.
Ian still made it, though. Lived to complain another day. ]
I can sprinkle in a skyscraper if you're feeling frisky.
Skyscrapers are almost the exact opposite of what I think about when I'm feeling frisky.
[ A pleasantly deadpan drawl accompanied by a sideways look at Nate — less I'm hitting on you and more Jesus Christ you're nuts.
On cometh the gate in all of its crazy glory, something straight out of Ancient Aliens. Pillars and gold, impressive enough that Ian's eyes track over it intently despite having seen it once before.
The vague thought springs at the back of his mind: wonder what would happen if I tried to bend this? Followed by the mental image of fucking up the entire gate and then the cave crashing down around them like Indiana Jones. Check that curiosity immediately in the overhead compartment. ]
[ Nate tsks with a quiet you're no fun and grins nonetheless, something briefly wild and unrepentantly incorrigible in the expression that sobers as the gate looms into view.
He doesn't remember a lot from the monster attack outside of the bullshit he pulled to keep them from traveling between gates and better facilitating their mayhem - outside of Ian's bafflement that he'd make them cross a makeshift bridge over the city - so seeing it without living nightmares is seeing it with entirely different eyes.
Nate whistles lowly in appreciation, stopping short a few yards away and absentmindedly reaching for something in his duffel. He hadn't gotten to indulge in any artistry the last time he was plugging giant animals full of bullets, and his sketchbook is in his hand in seconds. ]
[ Nobody should be able to wear an expression like that and look so appealing doing it, it's absolutely disgusting. It's kind of like when creatures in nature have vibrant, eye-catching colors, but it's hard to say whether it's the kind that means they're venomous or if it's a mating thing, like peacocks. ]
I don't know, I've seen the back of some pretty impressive heads.
[ It's said with an absent sort of air as he ambles, distracted, around the base of the thing.
Witty commentary aside — ]
It's a very different kind of alien than... alien. Or, at least the ones where I'm from. With them... I don't know, it's hard to explain, but it's kind of... You can just look at it and tell that it's wrong, that it doesn't belong in the world. That it's nothing that came from us. This seems a little more...
[ Por que no los dos, amigo? With a resume and reputation as storied as the ones Nate has in his possession he's been accused of both and the accusations are equally valid.
He completes his scribbles with a brief note and tucks the book away, hands settling on his hips as he appraises the structure. Same as the last time he saw it, looking like something out of Ubar with a gleaming finish and decorative elements that could be attributed to a number of origins - or be the inspiration thereof. ]
Based in the ancient cultural norms of our world?
[ Nate finishes helpfully, tipping his head in Ian's direction. ]
[ Breathed out peaceful-easy, exhaled more than spoken. That's pretty much bang-on the description he didn't know he was looking for.
He tucks his hands in his pockets, elbows akimbo. His eyes scope over Nate now that he's had his fill of ogling the gate. Something wry tugs at his lips. ]
[ Right. Not everyone is so accustomed to the few physical habits that he has, particularly here. Usually people only see Nate in the bar, only see him wearing the same bright attitude and cheerful disposition while he's sliding them another drink.
This is a bit closer to his typical "natural environment." ]
I...uh, keep travel journals? Been doing it since I was a kid, just notes and drawings and stuff. Things I see or might want to remember for later.
[ Pretty useful if he ends up running into some kind of giant puzzle in an ancient city full of death traps. ]
[ That's actually one of the things he's looking forward to -- seeing Nate in a different environment. Seeing him in what he's assuming is his niche. Honestly, even if it weren't you can learn a lot about a person by how they act when they travel. Some get high-strung, some get tourist-y, some people turn into control freaks. Not that he knows this for personal relationship type reasons, so much as coworkers and conferences. People watching.
Ian's expression goes a little more wry. ]
Oh, right. That makes sense. I was wondering whether or not we go to add tortured artist to your resume.
[ But now that he knows, he's gonna keep an eye out for that notepad coming to join them again. See if he can get a glimpse at Nate's drawings. ]
[ Nate nods sagely in acknowledgement, because he's starting to get accustomed to the little boxes Ian keeps trying to put him in. At this rate it's like a moving truck's worth of cardboard. ]
Not an artist. [ He pulls a face. ] Just tortured.
[ The grimace slips into another indulgent smile as he bumps shoulders with Ian before sidling down to the front of the gate. ]
[ If anything, he seems faintly encouraged by the passive acceptance — such is now the Way of Things. Rather than answer out loud, Ian ambles tentatively over toward the front of the gate himself. When he reaches out, his hand hesitates not because he's uncomfortable rather because he's unfamiliar, can't remember exactly how this is supposed to work.
When in doubt, wing it, right?
Wing it with an ancient magical teleporting gate under the earth that they don't even remotely understand.
Good call.
At any rate, whatever he does seems to work; his chest lights up blue, the gate follows suit, and in theory they should step through to the gate in a remote, sheltered area in Tibet.
Or maybe they wind up on the fucking moon, fingers crossed. ]
[ Wing it works for things like horseshoes, and hand grenades, and Nate would know given his experience using the latter in high stakes scenarios.
Getting sucked through the gate feels about the same way it has multiple times before, so a little like falling off a short drop when your stomach does one of those flips before you hit solid ground again. Disassembling and reassembling pieces of people like a machine that belongs in Willy Wonka's factory, or so Nate would assume from the one time he watched that movie in dubbed form in Brazil.
It's another cave. A different cave, but a cave nonetheless, and Nate emits a quiet huh as he scuffs the ground with his boots and glances at his side, relieved to see Ian. ]
You were thinking Lhasa, right? Might suck to walk outside and realize we're in Siberia.
[ Yeah, he did not remember that sensation from the first time around. It's the kind of thing that brings your bladder up to your lungs practically, and he has to shake it off with a quick exhale for a second after they step off. ]
I was thinking Tahiti, actually.
[ He breathes, an airy joke, a backwards glance at the gate. All seems right with the world so far, so he adjusts his bag again and shoots Nate a bright look. ]
It was between that or Everest. Forgot where we were going, took a shot in the dark.
[ Anyway enough with the hilarious bullshit. He nudges Nate's bicep with his elbow. ]
[ The nudge is all it takes. No sense in loitering over what-ifs when they can just as easily follow the path up through the cave, the tunnel narrowing at the end to a tidy, well-arched shape. Almost manmade, but without any distinguishing marks to suggest as such. Upon emerging from an outcrop into the early morning he's at least relieved to see the cave is hidden in a small cliff, something mistaken for a shadow behind a building he actually knows.
It's a dark, blood red color, with several levels of flat roofing and decorated with flags that bear the seven auspicious symbols. Beyond it is the valley in which Lhasa is nestled, a sprawling place with more futuristic buildings than he anticipated, but most of them seem to cling lower to the ground, the most outstanding structures being the monasteries.
With a faint exhale Nate identifies as one of relief he's glad to see the place not so far diminished, and pale light reaches over the mountain ridges to the south and east. He doesn't realize it, when the almost wistful smile reaches his face. ]
[ Ian hasn't traveled much. He's barely left the western half of the United States. He flew out to the midwest or pacific northwest for jobs back when he did hands-on full time, went to Canada once, but never anywhere even close to Tibet. Future, no future, apocalypse or not, this is an impressive and completely new sight for him. The architecture alone differentiates it from anywhere else he's been.
He's also pretty suitably taken in by the expression Nate's wearing.
Nechung. ]
Where are we headed?
[ Which is curiosity, not impatience. To make sure that's clear, he'll tack on a little something right after. ]
Or are we hanging out in Nechung?
[ In terms of what breed of traveler he is, Ian's not the high strung sort, the efficient sort, the overly-eager tourist sort. His approach is much like his demeanor often is — calm, flexible, content in the moment. He's the embodiment of those shirts that say 'it's about the journey not the destination'. ]
[ That smile turns a hair crooked just as Nate shifts to look at him, explaining the minor confusion that he should have clarified from the start. ]
The city's Lhasa. The monastery- [ One of his hands drifts toward the red complex. ] That's Nechung. And that-
[ He nods further, past the temple and its steps, into the center of the city. What Nate indicates is difficult to miss because it's massive: sitting on a hill higher than the rest of its surroundings is an enormous white structure with a red middle, spotted with dozens of windows and illuminated with site lighting. ]
Is the Potala Palace. Dalai Lamas used to live there from the early 1600s up until the 1990s. It's a fortress, I figure we could check it out first?
[ Cool, cool, cool. Nailing it already. Professional traveler & Tibetan expert Ian Fowler is on the scene. His nose scrunches up just a little, wordlessly wry and self-deprecating.
Anyway, cool, now he knows. More importantly, there's an absolutely intense palace to worry about, and he nods sagely. ]
Sure, they probably have a cool gift shop.
[ The vaguely guilty thought that crosses his mind may be something along the lines of what awesome stuff they could probably do, considering his being able to move walls and everything. It dips briefling into whether or not it's a travesty to mess with something that old if he puts it back exactly the way he found it — guaranteed better results than that woman who tried to restore that painting of Jesus.
Maybe... keep that to himself until an opportunity presents itself.
More importantly — ]
Are you gonna give me interesting facts along the way? Because I specifically remember signing up for the tour guide package. This is an educational outing.
[ Nate has absolutely zero idea as to whether they let you even get close to the Potala Palace anymore, let alone go inside - the gift shop notion somehow seems the most likely, though they may just find vendors outside the walls - and either way, getting into places is sort of Nate's wheelhouse. With Ian's matter bending he probably won't even have to work that hard to do so. ]
Really gonna make the dancing monkey work for his tips, huh?
[ He's not chafed, as evidenced by the broad grin on his face. He claps Ian on the shoulder and begins picking his way down the rocky hillside, dredging up old memories for a new lesson plan.
Sadly he won't be nearly as skilled as certain, certified professionals who used to teach for a living, but... ]
Where d'you wanna start? This city was pretty much untouched by British imperialism until the early 1900s.
[ The little smirk and tilt to his eyebrows very clearly says, yes, dance monkey dance. He can't pretend like it's 100% interest in the setting around them; a not insignificant portion of it is just wanting to hear Nate talk. He's passionate about the whole thing, knowledgeable, and he's got a pleasant voice. Ian's not sorry.
He keeps up easy enough, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, eyes flicking from the path before them to Nate's face and back again periodically. ]
What's the furthest back you can go? Gimme the earliest point on the timeline you know about.
[ This, for example, is a question that more revolves around Nate than the city in particular, but he'll wind up dipping back and forth between both. ]
[ Nate blows a raspberry, accepting his position as an object of entertainment and/or ridicule, as he almost always does. Known among his friends back home as the guy who will generally do what you ask him to do - particularly on a job - he scuffs his boots on the stone and dirt and tilts his head to one side in acquiescence. ]
Mmm...okay, I don't know a lot about its earliest history? It was a religious site of pilgrimage for a long time before the fifth Dalai Lama in the seventeenth century. Prior to that it was a kingdom invaded by the ancient Chinese. Monarchy fell, city got recognized as a place where Guru Rinpoche stabbed an earth demoness, and then they built that-
[ He nods toward another temple - gleaming white with red decor - far off, fronting an open square in the center of the city. ]
-where her heart was supposed to be. I had this friend, Tenzin, who visited Jokhang a couple of times with his family? He said it's beautiful inside.
[ He isn't really sure what he expected, but it was definitely something less cool than what he got. Flashback to a couple months ago when he was comfortable in the notion that Nate was 99% bartender. Now they're in Tibet, Nate's wearing a shoulder harness talking about Guru Rinpoche stabbing an earth demoness, and... ]
You are, like, the most interesting person on the planet. You know that, right?
[ Just an FYI that he delivers in a completely matter of fact manner.
Anyway. ]
I feel like it's gonna be really hard to top demon heart.
[ What does he say to that, outside of looking extremely flattered by the statement? As far as Nate's opinion on the subject stretches the honorable title goes to Sully, who would put that guy in the Dos Equis commercials to shame. A career in the Navy and a subsequent few decades in crime made him the most well-traveled and fascinating best friend he's ever had.
Nate's expression tightens for a moment - You wanna help, Sullivan? Then go after her. - and softens again, letting go. ]
You might be surprised. I've seen some stupas that'll blow your mind.
[ It's a meandering path down the hill and into the city, crowded with much more modern updates slapped on top of the tired foundations of a too-old world, like a chrome Band-Aid on a neighborhood in Detroit. It's clear that the bustle of vendors is something in which Nate delights, however, as he furthers explains the sacred site and its radiating complex, maneuvering stalls and shoppers between describing the conflict between Buddhists and Bonpos. ]
They first started building it in the seventh century. Just kept adding onto it for nearly a thousand years, which is, like, insane. People get impatient when new construction takes longer than a few months- [ He screeches to a sudden halt near a booth draped in fabric. ] Hey, are you hungry?
[ It's a short but interesting journey, the expressions that weave through Nate's features. Subtle and graceful like ballet, transitioning too quickly for Ian to exactly pinpoint each pose. Whatever it means, whatever he's thinking, it seems a little...
Low.
It bites at his tongue to ask, but—
They only just got here. They didn't come for Ian to pick him apart within the first hour, pulling at threads trying to unravel the deeper parts of his tapestry. The moment goes and Ian lets it, stowing the thought for later in favor of absorbing Tibetan history like a dry sponge under a tap. The pleasant, attentive calm never really leaves his posture, it only rises in falls of waves of amusement or curiosity.
It firmly shifts slightly toward the former at the abrupt stop. ]
Usually, yeah. Why, what synapses fired in your brain just now?
[ Because what made you think to ask matters more to him than where are we going. ]
[ Nate informs him unhelpfully, as if Ian is supposed to know what that means, and the bottomless pit that is the younger Drake brother hasn't actually had some legitimate ethnic food from its country of origin in months. Years, if he's counting the last time he actually visited Tenzin and Pema, who was growing way too fast for her father to keep up with.
Hard to miss the distinct scent of roasted barley flour, though. Nate lifts a strip of fabric like a curtain and lights up, treated to the view of an older woman tending a griddle with several steaming baskets nearby. Back of a restaurant. Must be their side hustle.
Like the noodle huts of northeast Asia there's a cramped stretch of counter and several beaten stools, and Nate jerks his head for Ian to follow him inside the little hut. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Was it, though?
[ Rhetorical. Doesn't matter either which way, as they head into the tunnel. It's been a while since Nate even came down here, partly because of how busy things got and partly because he simply didn't have the inclination. Traveling by himself is fine - he used to enjoy it a great deal - but these days it's a fairly lonesome endeavor. ]
How's your Tibetan?
[ Nate asks conversationally, as though any language won't be automatically translated by their implants. Really takes the fun out of learning. ]
no subject
[ Answered pleasantly, with the unabashed implication that he doesn't speak a speck of Greek. Fortunately, it doesn't matter in the slightest. He trails along at Nate's shoulder, just an inch or two behind to take directive. No idea where he's going here, please lead on.
The last time he followed Nate like this he's pretty sure Nate was walking backwards, and — ]
It is so much better to be doing this on the ground without the threat of terrifying death, by the way.
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[ The laugh bursts out of him, surprised and delighted, because while Nate is accustomed to being called out for his bullshit it's so rarely done with the same kind of characteristic aplomb. Sixty stories up was pretty extreme for a first excursion, and he won't argue that.
Ian still made it, though. Lived to complain another day. ]
I can sprinkle in a skyscraper if you're feeling frisky.
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[ A pleasantly deadpan drawl accompanied by a sideways look at Nate — less I'm hitting on you and more Jesus Christ you're nuts.
On cometh the gate in all of its crazy glory, something straight out of Ancient Aliens. Pillars and gold, impressive enough that Ian's eyes track over it intently despite having seen it once before.
The vague thought springs at the back of his mind: wonder what would happen if I tried to bend this? Followed by the mental image of fucking up the entire gate and then the cave crashing down around them like Indiana Jones. Check that curiosity immediately in the overhead compartment. ]
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He doesn't remember a lot from the monster attack outside of the bullshit he pulled to keep them from traveling between gates and better facilitating their mayhem - outside of Ian's bafflement that he'd make them cross a makeshift bridge over the city - so seeing it without living nightmares is seeing it with entirely different eyes.
Nate whistles lowly in appreciation, stopping short a few yards away and absentmindedly reaching for something in his duffel. He hadn't gotten to indulge in any artistry the last time he was plugging giant animals full of bullets, and his sketchbook is in his hand in seconds. ]
Really puts business class seats to shame.
no subject
I don't know, I've seen the back of some pretty impressive heads.
[ It's said with an absent sort of air as he ambles, distracted, around the base of the thing.
Witty commentary aside — ]
It's a very different kind of alien than... alien. Or, at least the ones where I'm from. With them... I don't know, it's hard to explain, but it's kind of... You can just look at it and tell that it's wrong, that it doesn't belong in the world. That it's nothing that came from us. This seems a little more...
[ Shrug. Not sure how to finish the thought. ]
no subject
He completes his scribbles with a brief note and tucks the book away, hands settling on his hips as he appraises the structure. Same as the last time he saw it, looking like something out of Ubar with a gleaming finish and decorative elements that could be attributed to a number of origins - or be the inspiration thereof. ]
Based in the ancient cultural norms of our world?
[ Nate finishes helpfully, tipping his head in Ian's direction. ]
no subject
[ Breathed out peaceful-easy, exhaled more than spoken. That's pretty much bang-on the description he didn't know he was looking for.
He tucks his hands in his pockets, elbows akimbo. His eyes scope over Nate now that he's had his fill of ogling the gate. Something wry tugs at his lips. ]
What's with the--
[ A vague nod at Nate's hips. ]
Note taking?
no subject
[ Right. Not everyone is so accustomed to the few physical habits that he has, particularly here. Usually people only see Nate in the bar, only see him wearing the same bright attitude and cheerful disposition while he's sliding them another drink.
This is a bit closer to his typical "natural environment." ]
I...uh, keep travel journals? Been doing it since I was a kid, just notes and drawings and stuff. Things I see or might want to remember for later.
[ Pretty useful if he ends up running into some kind of giant puzzle in an ancient city full of death traps. ]
no subject
Ian's expression goes a little more wry. ]
Oh, right. That makes sense. I was wondering whether or not we go to add tortured artist to your resume.
[ But now that he knows, he's gonna keep an eye out for that notepad coming to join them again. See if he can get a glimpse at Nate's drawings. ]
no subject
Not an artist. [ He pulls a face. ] Just tortured.
[ The grimace slips into another indulgent smile as he bumps shoulders with Ian before sidling down to the front of the gate. ]
Would you like to do the honors?
no subject
When in doubt, wing it, right?
Wing it with an ancient magical teleporting gate under the earth that they don't even remotely understand.
Good call.
At any rate, whatever he does seems to work; his chest lights up blue, the gate follows suit, and in theory they should step through to the gate in a remote, sheltered area in Tibet.
Or maybe they wind up on the fucking moon, fingers crossed. ]
no subject
Getting sucked through the gate feels about the same way it has multiple times before, so a little like falling off a short drop when your stomach does one of those flips before you hit solid ground again. Disassembling and reassembling pieces of people like a machine that belongs in Willy Wonka's factory, or so Nate would assume from the one time he watched that movie in dubbed form in Brazil.
It's another cave. A different cave, but a cave nonetheless, and Nate emits a quiet huh as he scuffs the ground with his boots and glances at his side, relieved to see Ian. ]
You were thinking Lhasa, right? Might suck to walk outside and realize we're in Siberia.
no subject
I was thinking Tahiti, actually.
[ He breathes, an airy joke, a backwards glance at the gate. All seems right with the world so far, so he adjusts his bag again and shoots Nate a bright look. ]
It was between that or Everest. Forgot where we were going, took a shot in the dark.
[ Anyway enough with the hilarious bullshit. He nudges Nate's bicep with his elbow. ]
Let's go.
[ Show him fucking Tibet already, man. ]
no subject
[ The nudge is all it takes. No sense in loitering over what-ifs when they can just as easily follow the path up through the cave, the tunnel narrowing at the end to a tidy, well-arched shape. Almost manmade, but without any distinguishing marks to suggest as such. Upon emerging from an outcrop into the early morning he's at least relieved to see the cave is hidden in a small cliff, something mistaken for a shadow behind a building he actually knows.
It's a dark, blood red color, with several levels of flat roofing and decorated with flags that bear the seven auspicious symbols. Beyond it is the valley in which Lhasa is nestled, a sprawling place with more futuristic buildings than he anticipated, but most of them seem to cling lower to the ground, the most outstanding structures being the monasteries.
With a faint exhale Nate identifies as one of relief he's glad to see the place not so far diminished, and pale light reaches over the mountain ridges to the south and east. He doesn't realize it, when the almost wistful smile reaches his face. ]
Made it. This is Nechung. North of the city.
no subject
He's also pretty suitably taken in by the expression Nate's wearing.
Nechung. ]
Where are we headed?
[ Which is curiosity, not impatience. To make sure that's clear, he'll tack on a little something right after. ]
Or are we hanging out in Nechung?
[ In terms of what breed of traveler he is, Ian's not the high strung sort, the efficient sort, the overly-eager tourist sort. His approach is much like his demeanor often is — calm, flexible, content in the moment. He's the embodiment of those shirts that say 'it's about the journey not the destination'. ]
no subject
The city's Lhasa. The monastery- [ One of his hands drifts toward the red complex. ] That's Nechung. And that-
[ He nods further, past the temple and its steps, into the center of the city. What Nate indicates is difficult to miss because it's massive: sitting on a hill higher than the rest of its surroundings is an enormous white structure with a red middle, spotted with dozens of windows and illuminated with site lighting. ]
Is the Potala Palace. Dalai Lamas used to live there from the early 1600s up until the 1990s. It's a fortress, I figure we could check it out first?
no subject
Anyway, cool, now he knows. More importantly, there's an absolutely intense palace to worry about, and he nods sagely. ]
Sure, they probably have a cool gift shop.
[ The vaguely guilty thought that crosses his mind may be something along the lines of what awesome stuff they could probably do, considering his being able to move walls and everything. It dips briefling into whether or not it's a travesty to mess with something that old if he puts it back exactly the way he found it — guaranteed better results than that woman who tried to restore that painting of Jesus.
Maybe... keep that to himself until an opportunity presents itself.
More importantly — ]
Are you gonna give me interesting facts along the way? Because I specifically remember signing up for the tour guide package. This is an educational outing.
no subject
Really gonna make the dancing monkey work for his tips, huh?
[ He's not chafed, as evidenced by the broad grin on his face. He claps Ian on the shoulder and begins picking his way down the rocky hillside, dredging up old memories for a new lesson plan.
Sadly he won't be nearly as skilled as certain, certified professionals who used to teach for a living, but... ]
Where d'you wanna start? This city was pretty much untouched by British imperialism until the early 1900s.
no subject
He keeps up easy enough, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, eyes flicking from the path before them to Nate's face and back again periodically. ]
What's the furthest back you can go? Gimme the earliest point on the timeline you know about.
[ This, for example, is a question that more revolves around Nate than the city in particular, but he'll wind up dipping back and forth between both. ]
no subject
Mmm...okay, I don't know a lot about its earliest history? It was a religious site of pilgrimage for a long time before the fifth Dalai Lama in the seventeenth century. Prior to that it was a kingdom invaded by the ancient Chinese. Monarchy fell, city got recognized as a place where Guru Rinpoche stabbed an earth demoness, and then they built that-
[ He nods toward another temple - gleaming white with red decor - far off, fronting an open square in the center of the city. ]
-where her heart was supposed to be. I had this friend, Tenzin, who visited Jokhang a couple of times with his family? He said it's beautiful inside.
no subject
You are, like, the most interesting person on the planet. You know that, right?
[ Just an FYI that he delivers in a completely matter of fact manner.
Anyway. ]
I feel like it's gonna be really hard to top demon heart.
[ Seems like a good place to start. ]
no subject
Nate's expression tightens for a moment - You wanna help, Sullivan? Then go after her. - and softens again, letting go. ]
You might be surprised. I've seen some stupas that'll blow your mind.
[ It's a meandering path down the hill and into the city, crowded with much more modern updates slapped on top of the tired foundations of a too-old world, like a chrome Band-Aid on a neighborhood in Detroit. It's clear that the bustle of vendors is something in which Nate delights, however, as he furthers explains the sacred site and its radiating complex, maneuvering stalls and shoppers between describing the conflict between Buddhists and Bonpos. ]
They first started building it in the seventh century. Just kept adding onto it for nearly a thousand years, which is, like, insane. People get impatient when new construction takes longer than a few months- [ He screeches to a sudden halt near a booth draped in fabric. ] Hey, are you hungry?
no subject
Low.
It bites at his tongue to ask, but—
They only just got here. They didn't come for Ian to pick him apart within the first hour, pulling at threads trying to unravel the deeper parts of his tapestry. The moment goes and Ian lets it, stowing the thought for later in favor of absorbing Tibetan history like a dry sponge under a tap. The pleasant, attentive calm never really leaves his posture, it only rises in falls of waves of amusement or curiosity.
It firmly shifts slightly toward the former at the abrupt stop. ]
Usually, yeah. Why, what synapses fired in your brain just now?
[ Because what made you think to ask matters more to him than where are we going. ]
no subject
[ Nate informs him unhelpfully, as if Ian is supposed to know what that means, and the bottomless pit that is the younger Drake brother hasn't actually had some legitimate ethnic food from its country of origin in months. Years, if he's counting the last time he actually visited Tenzin and Pema, who was growing way too fast for her father to keep up with.
Hard to miss the distinct scent of roasted barley flour, though. Nate lifts a strip of fabric like a curtain and lights up, treated to the view of an older woman tending a griddle with several steaming baskets nearby. Back of a restaurant. Must be their side hustle.
Like the noodle huts of northeast Asia there's a cramped stretch of counter and several beaten stools, and Nate jerks his head for Ian to follow him inside the little hut. ]
How adventurous do you feel today?
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