We'll hear it, though? [ Unless they've got some kind of incredibly sound-dampening shelter, which...she supposes is possible, but. ] I'll follow your lead, Brightness. Promise to only stick my neck out a little.
[ Sometimes, with the impish sparkle in her eye, it's hard to tell whether or not she's joking. ]
We did get rain, technically. But it didn't make it down to us. [ It'd just patter way high up against the Dome. ] Mm: aquafarms. We were able to make use of the seawater for that: it was oceanic species we had there, after all.
[ They'd figured out how to make a living, for however their short lives lasted. Those who didn't Gommage still had to go on, after all. ]
[ — A simple, single nod. Yes, they'll still hear it. The rain; the wind; the boulders and debris tossed by the wind. Jasnah has sat through uncountable storms, rarely considering much beyond her gratitude for being safe inside. Has she ever paid attention to how they sound? Not especially.
She might this time, however. Curious about what Sciel's so curious about. ]
[ Sciel has experienced the highstorms from Urithiru, of course, but it isn't the same. Being out here on the Plains will, she imagines, make it all feel so much closer as it bears down on them from just outside the safety of their shelter.
Jasnah's question makes her realize how much they still have to discuss about the world Sciel had come from, but...then, that's part of the point of their (possibly) working together on the documentation, right? ]
The Dome. [ She explains. ] After the Fracture, 67 years ago, they managed to build a...protective shield around the city of Lumière to keep the Nevrons out. And it works, though it also does keep the weather out, too.
[ And because she's anticipating it, Sciel adds, with a smile: ] Don't ask me how it all works. The finer details are lost on me, sadly.
[ If she had Lune, Gustave, or even Verso here, Jasnah would be able to get more information. Alas. ]
[ And, let's be honest, Navani would be more interested in these particular finer details than Jasnah is. So Sciel's disclaimer doesn't spark too too much disappointment. Although she does wonder about the true practicalities of such a...dome. ]
All weather? Even the wind?
[ It's almost (almost) sad. Then again, it wouldn't be the saddest detail about Sciel's home planet. ]
Even the wind. [ Sciel confirms. If you think too much about it, one might start to wonder how the citizens of the city don't suffocate, but there are no answers to be had. ] I guess it makes things a little easier that way. We don't have to worry about flooding, or blizzards...
[ There's a wistful sigh. It'd been such a gift, getting to see the snow as part of the Expedition. It's one of the myriad things she'd wished badly that Pierre could have experienced, too. ]
The stars were visible from inside, but...obscured. I've loved being able to see open skies.
[ There are spren for all sorts of things, of course. Painspren and gloryspren. Rotspren and passionspren. Starspren, however, are rare. Like little specks, chasing each other in the sky. Except... ]
They're magnificent when seen in Shadesmar. [ A soft, breathy pause. Like she's remembering something. ] Seven sets of wings.
[ That...seems to interest Sciel very much, as evidenced by the way her eyes widen with an almost childlike wonder. ]
There are? [ It makes sense, based on what (little) she knows. She primarily thinks of the spren as related to emotions, but they really make up the whole of the world, don't they? Flamespren dance around the very fire at their feet, drawing her gaze down as she considers it. ]
I'm sure they're incredible. [ Sciel breathes. Of course, she hasn't been to Shadesmar, either, but Jasnah's descriptions of the form the starspren as they appear there is enough for her to imagine the creatures. ] ...I'd love to see them someday.
[ One of many things on Roshar she's learned about, since her arrival, and has added to a mental to-do list for...whenever it ends up happening. Sciel had once been fated to die before she turned 33, so having all this time to fill is...still strange. ]
The view is safer from this side, [ she cautions, ] albeit less spectacular.
[ Jasnah isn't afraid of Shadesmar, exactly. But when she does speak of it — somewhat rarely — it's with a healthy, respectful dose of trepidation. She isn't proud to confront the fact that Roshar's one and only Elsecaller doesn't use the Surge of Transportation as much as could. ]
[ Chin upturned, Sciel is gazing skyward with a little half-smile. ...For a moment, before she returns her attention, and the smile, to the queen. ]
...But, I'll leave the danger for today to catching a glimpse of the highstorm. [ Maybe another time she'd try and convince Jasnah to let her see Shadesmar... ]
[ Jasnah leans back on the heel of one palm (her right, naturally) and cranes her neck to take in the stars. It's...nice, seeing something in a new light thanks to someone else's perspective. In this case, Sciel's joy at seeing the open, unfiltered sky — ??
Wonderful.
She presses her mouth into a line, nodding. ]
I can't help but wonder if your world is one of those stars up there. [ Wit had sorta-kinda-mostly explained to her the idea of space but it's still taking some getting used to. ] So close and so far, all at once.
[ At the suggestion that the place she'd come from might be 'up there' somewhere, Sciel merely smiles a pleasant, noncommittal smile. ]
Maybe. [ A pleasant, noncommittal answer. ] ...It's a nice thought. That I could just look up and have it be hanging there somewhere, looking back at me.
[ As if it were somewhere she could go back to someday. ]
There's a lot I'm glad to have down here, though. To look at.
[ Whether she's referring to her present company, the world and its wonders at large, or both... ]
[ It's...nice. Sitting, chatting with someone from a whole other world for whom Roshar feels new. Exciting. It had already been so old hat for Wit — and it always seemed as if he knew more about her own history than she did. Aggravating, even if it was also kind of attractive. ]
Apparently there's many. [ She catches Sciel's eye then tilts her head back up at the starts. ] Worlds. I can only name a handful of them.
"Many?" [ Sciel repeats, looking to Jasnah with her usual, piqued curiosity. ] And...does that mean a dozen, or hundreds?
[ Many worlds. Possibly visible in the night sky. The idea still seems so fantastical, even after everything she's been through, even after personally coming to this world from another.
Of course, gestrals and the Grandis had been the same. Mythical things come to life just as soon as they stepped out of their literal bubble. ]
[ A strange, small thrill ladders through Jasnah. Was this how he felt, she wonders? Every time he introduced a mystery she couldn't help but chase. It prompts her to lean in, just a little, and raise her gloved hand. She draws a line to a group of red stars. A kind of smudge of a constellation. ]
Taln's Scar. But someone once told me it's called something else on other planets. The Red Rip. The Starbelt. So that's at least two other worlds who can see the same landmarks in the same sky.
Huh. [ Comes the thoughtful sound as Sciel follows the line Jasnah traces in the sky. ] Not sure I've heard of that one. What're some of the others?
[ Famously an enjoyer of laying under the stars, Sciel could rattle off some of the constellations they'd been able to see back home. But...first, she'd rather hear the queen point out the ones that do exist here, drawing the connections between how they're known on Roshar and on other worlds. ]
Though it'd be hard to find one that sounds cooler than that. [ She chuckles. ] All of its names are great, honestly.
[ It's information she shouldn't have. The different names for Taln's Scar. She certainly knows only the Rosharan names for what remains across the sky. Still, she tracks her fingertip across the night sky. ]
Reya's Tear. [ She indicates a very bright single star. ] And, there, that's Salas. The first of the moons.
[ A small, dim violet. It'll be visible for a couple hours before the 17th — before Nomon rises, and they enter the Hateful Hour. ]
[ Sciel has questions. Her curiosity may not have the same academic hunger as Lune's would, but she wonders with great interest about these things all the same. It's natural, isn't it? To want to know about your new home. And to learn more about the myriad worlds out there, too, if you've just learned that those others exist in the first place. ]
Was Reya a person? [ And: ] The first of how many moons?
[ She'll listen to whatever stories Jasnah has on offer. Or, if she either doesn't have answer or wants to move on, Sciel will just as happily hear what comes next in the queen's mapping of the stars overhead. ]
[ A silent nod answers Sciel's first question. Yes, Reya was a person. And if Jasnah avoids elaborating further, it's less her fault and more on account of (for once) canon has very little to say on the topic.
However, the moons...! ]
Three, [ she holds up her right (bare) hand and indicates three fingers, counting them down as she goes. ] Salas, Nomon, and Mishim. The three sisters, although in Natanatan, Nomon is a brother.
[ And then before she can stop herself, some horrid hangover of another person's bad habits rears itself in the back of her throat and she offers: ] Would you like to hear a story about one? About Mishim.
[ Hoid has a terrible way of lingering long after he's gone. ]
"In Natanatan?" [ Questions beget more questions. Hopefully the queen isn't opposed to the impromptu lesson -- this is all surely something children are taught in class -- because Sciel is looking at her expectantly, the piqued interest clear.
It seems Jasnah isn't opposed, or so she assumes when the other woman offers stories, and not just answers. ]
I would. [ Sciel affirms, eyes still bright. ] I'll even share one of my own after. Only seems fair.
Natanatan was one of the Silver Kingdoms. This is one of their stories. I'll — I'll try to tell it as they would, not as a historian would, so you must forgive me where the seams show.
[ She hesitates. Storytelling isn't her strongest suit. One might think it close to lecturing, but it's not quite. ]
Once, in Natanatan, there was Queen named Tsa. Sensible, by all accounts. And one day Mishim — the cleverest of the three moons, came to Queen Tsa. You see, she was curious about the mortal world. She tried to convince Tsa to switch places with her, just for one night. She promised all the glories of the heavens, of stars that sang, of sights no human eye was meant to witness. Again and again, Tsa refused her. Such things were not for mortals, Tsa said. And that should have been the end of it.
Mishim tried one last thing. She told Tsa that one of her towers had a flaw — structural, subtle, visible only from above. A queen, the story claims, can't ignore that. And so Tsa agreed to trade places for a single night. It would be dangerous, course. Mishim warns Tsa that her brother, Nomon, must not notice. Tsa promises to behave as a moon ought to behave. And to look only upon her towers.
So. Tsa ascended, and Mishim descended.
[ Jasnah's mouth quirks. This part is usually told with enthusiasm. ]
Mishim feasted. Danced. Laughed. She forgot herself entirely, until dawn crept in and she realized too late that she had overstayed. Having to wait for night to return, she was forced to spend the day on Roshar. She hid, terrified her siblings would discover her deception.
When Salas rose, and then blue Nomon, neither scolded her. When at last Tsa rose as the moon, Mishim called out, demanding to know what had happened. And Tsa told her the truth. Nomon and Salas had noticed the swap immediately. They had welcomed her. Sang to her. Feasted with her in the heavens. Mishim — clever Mishim — had never been invited to such things by her siblings. She grew jealous. And when Tsa mused aloud that perhaps she might remain a moon forever, Mishim learned how to feel loss. She protested. Accused. Tsa had broken her promise. But Tsa replied, calmly, that Nomon himself had given his permission. Still, eventually, she agreed to return. A queen, after all, has responsibilities.
That night, as Mishim rose once more. Restored. Months later, passing over Tsa's city, she saw something so surprising. Tsa stood holding a child. A boy, faintly blue of skin. Blue, like Nomon.
Only then did Mishim realize she had been outwitted. Tsa's protests had been something of a pretext. She'd wanted one night in the heavens — not for wonder or merriment, but for a divine legacy for her lineage. The people of Natan say their blue skin marks them as Nomon's descendants.
[ Jasnah shrugs, suggesting she doesn't believe it. ]
I doubt this story is evidence of divine heredity, and moons are not...reproductively compatible with mortals in any meaningful sense. But it is a remarkably efficient way to teach children that cleverness is not synonymous with wisdom.
[ She glances at Sciel, softer now. ]
And that even gods should be cautious when they underestimate a woman who knows exactly what she wants.
[ Sciel listens with rapt, easy attention in the way of someone who really hears you when you speak: eyes bright, leaning in slightly, lips parted in wonder. It's a parable, like the kinds of things parents on any world might share with their children, and it reminds her of telling stories to the kids in her class who had likely sat with the same enraptured faces through all of the exciting twists and turns.
It helps that her teacher, in this case, is Jasnah. As she's confessed to the queen herself, Sciel suspects Jasnah could talk to her about most things and make them sound interesting, and not just because they're components of a strange, new world. ]
A good lesson for anybody. [ The former Expeditioner chuckles when it's over, leaning back a little so she can turn her eyes skyward again. ] ...I really like that story. We didn't really have gods, but...the idea that humans could trick them is inspiring, isn't it? It's also a testament to the idea that everyone -- everything -- has a weakness, no matter how powerful. Or...that everyone is capable of impossible things, if they only go about it the right way.
[ The Paintress is their closest equivalent to a god, and unsuccessful decades upon decades of Expeditioners throwing themselves at the mission of destroying her hadn't dissuaded them. ...Not all of them, anyway. Whatever the ultimate result, the 33s had managed some impossibilities.
Sciel draws her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and keeping her gaze above. ]
...Why are they blue, d'you think? [ She asks after a pause, finally looking back to Jasnah. ]
[ If anyone asked Jasnah — storms, even if they didn't ask — she'd say that Roshar also has no gods. Only beings so powerful that they might be mistaken for something godlike. But the Natanatans worshipped the moon as if they were divine, and the story speaks to something deep and instinctual. She appreciates it for the slanted piece of history it is.
Sciel asks her question and she hums, thoughtful. Truth be told, she hadn't anticipated she'd end up plumbing the depths of Rosharan anthropology. But she likes Sciel's curiosity, and feels inclined to meet it — meet her — where she stands. ]
Conventional scholarship suggests that, ages ago, the people of Natan intermingled with the Siah-Amians. Humanoid, but not human. And very, very blue. I tend to agree with the theory.
[ The words are all still so foreign, and she endeavors to sort through them all and find their place in her growing (and intimidating) mental guide to Roshar. It's a task better suited for Lune (she thinks, for about the hundredth time), but that doesn't mean she isn't going to make an effort. Far from it. ]
I see. [ You know, to the degree that she can. It's at least easy to picture blue people. ] It's...strange, being in a place with the kind of history that you have. All of you. [ Not just the Alethi, but everyone on Roshar. ] Coming from a world where we just had the one city-...well, unless you count the gestrals and the Grandis, which you should. One human city, then. [ With a short-lived history, considering a lot of the pre-Fracture details have been lost with the event itself. ] It makes me feel like we Lumiérans are...I dunno, babies by comparison.
[ With so much potential for growth. Now lost. ]
I wish I could bring more of what was ours here, to show you. But...I'm awful in the kitchen, so the bread's out. And I'm not a musician, either. [ Sciel shrugs, letting these minute failures be water off her back. ] All I can really share are the stories.
[ A low, thoughtful sigh. It's strange to imagine! One human city, and that's the boundaries of most lives until they're snatched away. Or they reach for more — even if that more means mostly more death, more hardship, more failure. ]
Still. The stories must be good ones. [ Desperation breeds good stories, Hoid told her. Once. ] I often find stories and folklore are the quickest, best way to understand a people. Not a popular stance among historians — but one I'm fond of.
We do still manage to have good stories, yeah. [ There's some entertainment and levity to be found even amid all of the seriousness and death. ] ...That makes sense though, doesn't it? What are the morals or bits of history that're so importnat to people that they pass them down through generations? Not everything's going to make it, so...what they put value in should be at least somewhat obvious.
[ That is: she agrees with Jasnah's stance. Not for the first time. ]
Speaking of... [ Stories, that is. ] Would you rather hear about some of those non-humans, or about some of the more celestial myths?
[ For the record: the non-humans had also been myths until Sciel and the other 33s had reached the Continent and met them. ]
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[ Sometimes, with the impish sparkle in her eye, it's hard to tell whether or not she's joking. ]
We did get rain, technically. But it didn't make it down to us. [ It'd just patter way high up against the Dome. ] Mm: aquafarms. We were able to make use of the seawater for that: it was oceanic species we had there, after all.
[ They'd figured out how to make a living, for however their short lives lasted. Those who didn't Gommage still had to go on, after all. ]
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She might this time, however. Curious about what Sciel's so curious about. ]
Why didn't the rain reach you?
[ She hones in on such a small, strange detail. ]
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Jasnah's question makes her realize how much they still have to discuss about the world Sciel had come from, but...then, that's part of the point of their (possibly) working together on the documentation, right? ]
The Dome. [ She explains. ] After the Fracture, 67 years ago, they managed to build a...protective shield around the city of Lumière to keep the Nevrons out. And it works, though it also does keep the weather out, too.
[ And because she's anticipating it, Sciel adds, with a smile: ] Don't ask me how it all works. The finer details are lost on me, sadly.
[ If she had Lune, Gustave, or even Verso here, Jasnah would be able to get more information. Alas. ]
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All weather? Even the wind?
[ It's almost (almost) sad. Then again, it wouldn't be the saddest detail about Sciel's home planet. ]
Fascinating.
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[ There's a wistful sigh. It'd been such a gift, getting to see the snow as part of the Expedition. It's one of the myriad things she'd wished badly that Pierre could have experienced, too. ]
The stars were visible from inside, but...obscured. I've loved being able to see open skies.
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[ There are spren for all sorts of things, of course. Painspren and gloryspren. Rotspren and passionspren. Starspren, however, are rare. Like little specks, chasing each other in the sky. Except... ]
They're magnificent when seen in Shadesmar. [ A soft, breathy pause. Like she's remembering something. ] Seven sets of wings.
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There are? [ It makes sense, based on what (little) she knows. She primarily thinks of the spren as related to emotions, but they really make up the whole of the world, don't they? Flamespren dance around the very fire at their feet, drawing her gaze down as she considers it. ]
I'm sure they're incredible. [ Sciel breathes. Of course, she hasn't been to Shadesmar, either, but Jasnah's descriptions of the form the starspren as they appear there is enough for her to imagine the creatures. ] ...I'd love to see them someday.
[ One of many things on Roshar she's learned about, since her arrival, and has added to a mental to-do list for...whenever it ends up happening. Sciel had once been fated to die before she turned 33, so having all this time to fill is...still strange. ]
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[ Jasnah isn't afraid of Shadesmar, exactly. But when she does speak of it — somewhat rarely — it's with a healthy, respectful dose of trepidation. She isn't proud to confront the fact that Roshar's one and only Elsecaller doesn't use the Surge of Transportation as much as could. ]
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[ Chin upturned, Sciel is gazing skyward with a little half-smile. ...For a moment, before she returns her attention, and the smile, to the queen. ]
...But, I'll leave the danger for today to catching a glimpse of the highstorm. [ Maybe another time she'd try and convince Jasnah to let her see Shadesmar... ]
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Wonderful.
She presses her mouth into a line, nodding. ]
I can't help but wonder if your world is one of those stars up there. [ Wit had sorta-kinda-mostly explained to her the idea of space but it's still taking some getting used to. ] So close and so far, all at once.
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Maybe. [ A pleasant, noncommittal answer. ] ...It's a nice thought. That I could just look up and have it be hanging there somewhere, looking back at me.
[ As if it were somewhere she could go back to someday. ]
There's a lot I'm glad to have down here, though. To look at.
[ Whether she's referring to her present company, the world and its wonders at large, or both... ]
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Apparently there's many. [ She catches Sciel's eye then tilts her head back up at the starts. ] Worlds. I can only name a handful of them.
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[ Many worlds. Possibly visible in the night sky. The idea still seems so fantastical, even after everything she's been through, even after personally coming to this world from another.
Of course, gestrals and the Grandis had been the same. Mythical things come to life just as soon as they stepped out of their literal bubble. ]
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Taln's Scar. But someone once told me it's called something else on other planets. The Red Rip. The Starbelt. So that's at least two other worlds who can see the same landmarks in the same sky.
[ Surely, there's more. ]
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[ Famously an enjoyer of laying under the stars, Sciel could rattle off some of the constellations they'd been able to see back home. But...first, she'd rather hear the queen point out the ones that do exist here, drawing the connections between how they're known on Roshar and on other worlds. ]
Though it'd be hard to find one that sounds cooler than that. [ She chuckles. ] All of its names are great, honestly.
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Reya's Tear. [ She indicates a very bright single star. ] And, there, that's Salas. The first of the moons.
[ A small, dim violet. It'll be visible for a couple hours before the 17th — before Nomon rises, and they enter the Hateful Hour. ]
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Was Reya a person? [ And: ] The first of how many moons?
[ She'll listen to whatever stories Jasnah has on offer. Or, if she either doesn't have answer or wants to move on, Sciel will just as happily hear what comes next in the queen's mapping of the stars overhead. ]
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However, the moons...! ]
Three, [ she holds up her right (bare) hand and indicates three fingers, counting them down as she goes. ] Salas, Nomon, and Mishim. The three sisters, although in Natanatan, Nomon is a brother.
[ And then before she can stop herself, some horrid hangover of another person's bad habits rears itself in the back of her throat and she offers: ] Would you like to hear a story about one? About Mishim.
[ Hoid has a terrible way of lingering long after he's gone. ]
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It seems Jasnah isn't opposed, or so she assumes when the other woman offers stories, and not just answers. ]
I would. [ Sciel affirms, eyes still bright. ] I'll even share one of my own after. Only seems fair.
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[ She hesitates. Storytelling isn't her strongest suit. One might think it close to lecturing, but it's not quite. ]
Once, in Natanatan, there was Queen named Tsa. Sensible, by all accounts. And one day Mishim — the cleverest of the three moons, came to Queen Tsa. You see, she was curious about the mortal world. She tried to convince Tsa to switch places with her, just for one night. She promised all the glories of the heavens, of stars that sang, of sights no human eye was meant to witness. Again and again, Tsa refused her. Such things were not for mortals, Tsa said. And that should have been the end of it.
Mishim tried one last thing. She told Tsa that one of her towers had a flaw — structural, subtle, visible only from above. A queen, the story claims, can't ignore that. And so Tsa agreed to trade places for a single night. It would be dangerous, course. Mishim warns Tsa that her brother, Nomon, must not notice. Tsa promises to behave as a moon ought to behave. And to look only upon her towers.
So. Tsa ascended, and Mishim descended.
[ Jasnah's mouth quirks. This part is usually told with enthusiasm. ]
Mishim feasted. Danced. Laughed. She forgot herself entirely, until dawn crept in and she realized too late that she had overstayed. Having to wait for night to return, she was forced to spend the day on Roshar. She hid, terrified her siblings would discover her deception.
When Salas rose, and then blue Nomon, neither scolded her. When at last Tsa rose as the moon, Mishim called out, demanding to know what had happened. And Tsa told her the truth. Nomon and Salas had noticed the swap immediately. They had welcomed her. Sang to her. Feasted with her in the heavens. Mishim — clever Mishim — had never been invited to such things by her siblings. She grew jealous. And when Tsa mused aloud that perhaps she might remain a moon forever, Mishim learned how to feel loss. She protested. Accused. Tsa had broken her promise. But Tsa replied, calmly, that Nomon himself had given his permission. Still, eventually, she agreed to return. A queen, after all, has responsibilities.
That night, as Mishim rose once more. Restored. Months later, passing over Tsa's city, she saw something so surprising. Tsa stood holding a child. A boy, faintly blue of skin. Blue, like Nomon.
Only then did Mishim realize she had been outwitted. Tsa's protests had been something of a pretext. She'd wanted one night in the heavens — not for wonder or merriment, but for a divine legacy for her lineage. The people of Natan say their blue skin marks them as Nomon's descendants.
[ Jasnah shrugs, suggesting she doesn't believe it. ]
I doubt this story is evidence of divine heredity, and moons are not...reproductively compatible with mortals in any meaningful sense. But it is a remarkably efficient way to teach children that cleverness is not synonymous with wisdom.
[ She glances at Sciel, softer now. ]
And that even gods should be cautious when they underestimate a woman who knows exactly what she wants.
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It helps that her teacher, in this case, is Jasnah. As she's confessed to the queen herself, Sciel suspects Jasnah could talk to her about most things and make them sound interesting, and not just because they're components of a strange, new world. ]
A good lesson for anybody. [ The former Expeditioner chuckles when it's over, leaning back a little so she can turn her eyes skyward again. ] ...I really like that story. We didn't really have gods, but...the idea that humans could trick them is inspiring, isn't it? It's also a testament to the idea that everyone -- everything -- has a weakness, no matter how powerful. Or...that everyone is capable of impossible things, if they only go about it the right way.
[ The Paintress is their closest equivalent to a god, and unsuccessful decades upon decades of Expeditioners throwing themselves at the mission of destroying her hadn't dissuaded them. ...Not all of them, anyway. Whatever the ultimate result, the 33s had managed some impossibilities.
Sciel draws her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and keeping her gaze above. ]
...Why are they blue, d'you think? [ She asks after a pause, finally looking back to Jasnah. ]
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Sciel asks her question and she hums, thoughtful. Truth be told, she hadn't anticipated she'd end up plumbing the depths of Rosharan anthropology. But she likes Sciel's curiosity, and feels inclined to meet it — meet her — where she stands. ]
Conventional scholarship suggests that, ages ago, the people of Natan intermingled with the Siah-Amians. Humanoid, but not human. And very, very blue. I tend to agree with the theory.
[ She watches Sciel who watches the stars. ]
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I see. [ You know, to the degree that she can. It's at least easy to picture blue people. ] It's...strange, being in a place with the kind of history that you have. All of you. [ Not just the Alethi, but everyone on Roshar. ] Coming from a world where we just had the one city-...well, unless you count the gestrals and the Grandis, which you should. One human city, then. [ With a short-lived history, considering a lot of the pre-Fracture details have been lost with the event itself. ] It makes me feel like we Lumiérans are...I dunno, babies by comparison.
[ With so much potential for growth. Now lost. ]
I wish I could bring more of what was ours here, to show you. But...I'm awful in the kitchen, so the bread's out. And I'm not a musician, either. [ Sciel shrugs, letting these minute failures be water off her back. ] All I can really share are the stories.
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[ A low, thoughtful sigh. It's strange to imagine! One human city, and that's the boundaries of most lives until they're snatched away. Or they reach for more — even if that more means mostly more death, more hardship, more failure. ]
Still. The stories must be good ones. [ Desperation breeds good stories, Hoid told her. Once. ] I often find stories and folklore are the quickest, best way to understand a people. Not a popular stance among historians — but one I'm fond of.
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[ That is: she agrees with Jasnah's stance. Not for the first time. ]
Speaking of... [ Stories, that is. ] Would you rather hear about some of those non-humans, or about some of the more celestial myths?
[ For the record: the non-humans had also been myths until Sciel and the other 33s had reached the Continent and met them. ]
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