[Visual / Location]

[imperial_long]

Mayland Long is waiting for Azkadellia to appear (she is not late for their appointment of noon; he is early), but in the meantime he sends out another message to Taxon.

The visual backdrop behind Long is a far cry from the library, today; instead a restaurant, white tables and Chinese decorations.

"Good afternoon, Taxon," he says politely as ever.

"There was a young man who had expressed an interest in Latin, but he no longer seems to be in the city, alas." Long is for the most part inured to the casual coming and going of those he barely knows.

"If others are interested in language lessons, please don't hesitate to ask; miss Azkadellia and I are embarking on our first lesson of Latin today.

"Mr. Spike, did you have a preference for when we might conduct our sessions?"


[OOC: For Azkadellia, but open to any!]

Comments

[Location]

[azoftheoz]

Azkadellia had not let the worries she’d had lately hold her back. She was learning, experiencing education in a new place and from someone she was finding she had great respect for in the short time they had been speaking. Donning one of the long denim skirts and a simple tailored blouse, she had taken the tram to where she found Mayland on the map. The entire ride seemed to take far too long. She worked to distract herself with the sites, the changes that seemed to take place within the blink of an eye but she was caught up in the child-filled glee of learning a new language.

In her hand she held a notebook she’d found in the market with a small fountain pen that had delighted her with its size and nib. Pausing only once to allow her breathing to calm as she was much too excited for her own good, she pushed open the door of the restaurant. Looking around, she spotted Long, noting he was using his tablet and so she stood to one side, waiting to be acknowledged.

[Location]

[imperial_long]

Long finished his transmissions and set the tablet out, then noticed Azkadellia at the edge of his vision. He stood; it was only courteous, after all, and gave her a bow and a smile. No hand-shaking for him.

"Miss Azkadellia. So good to meet you in person at last. Please, sit. That is a handsome memorandum book you have there."

Re: [Location]

[azoftheoz]

When he rose, she approached, smiling and inclining her head in greeting. “I’m quite happy to finally be here. We’ve talked so often that it hadn’t occurred to me until last night that we hadn’t actually met.”

Taking a seat, she laid the book square down before her, running a hand over the cover. “I like to take notes for later study. I hope that’s acceptable.”

[imperial_long]

"Not only acceptable but highly advised," Long answered, still smiling. He waited until she sat to sink back into his own seat, hands settling on the armrests of his chair.

"Welcome to Yung Kee's. It is a restaurant in my world which they have chosen to replicate here, it would seem. I have eaten a few times at the real thing."

There are two menus on the table-- in Chinese, so indecipherable no doubt to Azkadellia. Long has ordered tea but nothing else yet. He pours her a cup, holding the hot teapot by its middle instead of its handle.

[azoftheoz]

That got a small smile from her. "I thought it might be kinder to do it that way than constantly contacting you via tablet with questions you'd already answered," she pointed out.

"I admit, I'm curious. You mentioned something called century eggs. Is that a delicacy here," she asked, tugging one of the menus towards her. She chuckled. "That will be a future lesson then," she said, nodding though the nod slowed at his hold but she didn't say a word.

"Thank you. You're too kind."

[imperial_long]

"Not at all. Tea is the grease by which civilised discourse is lubricated, or so the British believe," Long says with a diffident smile, freshening his own cup before setting the pot back down.

"This tea is called Oolong. It may be stronger than you like. You are not obligated to drink it if so.

"The same goes for century eggs," he answers with a smile less diffident, more deeply, personally amused. He does not know if he can truly call Azkadellia a Westerner exactly-- the OZ is somewhere else entirely-- but she looks European and thus correctly or not he is going to lump her as one.

As such, he considers to himself she might not like century eggs.

"They're a traditional food of the lands where I am originally from, yes. I'll order some."

[azoftheoz]

That was something she found interesting, the cultural differences and those things that crossed those lines. Apparently like tea. Drawing the cup closer to her, she took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the steeped tea.

"Not obligated no," she agreed. "But how do I learn new things if I don't experience them," she noted, taking a sip of the warm brew. "Strong isn't bad," she added, finding the taste definitely different but still delightful.

She caught that look, the change in his expression. She wasn't sure what to make of that though she was still game. For now.

"Well, I will have to trust you to order and know that I have no issues with food that I'm aware of," she admitted, straightening her shoulders and willing to make a go of it.

[imperial_long]

"Splendid," Long answered, corners of his eyes crinkling a little. He caught the attention of one of the smartly-dressed waiters and rattled off a list of items in Cantonese for the Extra, partly to test if the simulation of Yung Kee's extended on a linguistic level as well.

The real restaurant as it existed back home featured waiters fluent in English, as most were in Hong Kong, and he'd heard as such being spoken here already. But he so rarely got an opportunity to use any language but English in Taxon; he had certainly never heard the Extras use anything else.

But the waiter merely nodded and murmured polite clarifying questions as to his order, then disappeared off through the tables. Long watched the not-a-man go, expression briefly pensive-- homesick, really-- then turned back to Azkadellia.

He curled his fingers around his own teacup, disdaining the handle much as he had the pot's. The tea was smoky, slightly salty, like a woodfire might taste.

"I wish I knew more of the languages of the Outer Zone, that I might draw comparisons. But I do not. We will begin by clarifying that Latin verbs change form based upon their tense and number; and that Latin nouns change form based upon their grammatical role in a sentence."

[azoftheoz]

Taking another sip of tea, she watched Long carefully as he ordered. Not for what he might be ordering but the way he did it, the inflection of the words and just how he spoke. She found it fascinating, something she hadn't known before.

Her gaze followed the man as he left.

"I'm curious. Do all the extras in Taxon speak other languages? I've always wondered just how much they keep true in these places, and if it says anything about what they're trying to do and why."

A girl with a thirst for knowledge found a lot of trouble in all the things she didn't know in this place and why they were there.

"I will start working on the information as I recall it. To be honest, most only speak English and know nothing of the ancients."

She nodded though, taking up her pen and notebook and making note of that.

[imperial_long]

"That is the first one I have attempted anything but English on," Long admitted a touch wryly. "Or... whatever it is we happen to be speaking right now. I am not altogether certain it is English, but it certainly seems to me that I am speaking English."

Come to think of it, Azkadellia would be a good person to ask. "And what do you seem to be speaking to yourself? Surely 'English' is not the language of the Zone?"

[azoftheoz]

That she considered, head tilting curiously to one side as she gave it thought.

“It was my understanding it was the same as others speak, and they say it’s English. I couldn’t swear to that as I just know everyone speaks the language I do. That said, when DG returned from the Otherside, she and I still spoke the same language though she had grown up in a place called Kansas.”

It had never occurred to her to think about the differences before. Not what could have been between her and DG, or should be between her and others in this place.

“I know the older language of the O.Z. is nothing like what I speak now, or think I’m speaking.”

[imperial_long]

"Yes, but I mean, what is the language of the Zone? What do people in the Zone call what they are speaking? Surely there must be a word for one's own tongue," Long asks, settling back in his seat and lifting his teacup before him with both hands. The steam curls out and half-obscures his face.

[azoftheoz]

“Oh. I see what you’re asking for. Ozian is most often used, though I think few discussed it. Since we rarely traveled to the Other Side, and only myself and a handful of others ever spoke the former language not many spoke of it.” She’d never thought that it might be odd until now.



“When DG returned to the Zone, I was surprised that she spoke the same language she was raised on, that things were so similar as that. I suppose I just assumed they were be so different from those of us in the Zone that even the language would be changed.

[text]

[infinitelystranger]

What languages do you offer?

Any conversation that can be conducted over text message with Sherlock Holmes generally will be. This one he types from a lawn chair on his rooftop.

He's no longer in the habit of initialing his text messages, largely because he's fairly certain everyone in the city is already programmed into one another's contacts. Also, it's boring.

[text]

[imperial_long]

Long's preferred formats for communication are, in order, Audio -> Text -> Visual -> Holo. He defers to Visual mostly because others seem to favor it, but if Sherlock Holmes prefers texts, that is more than fine with him.

A pleasure to hear from you again, Mr. Holmes. What languages capture your interest?

[text]

[infinitelystranger]

What are my choices?

A recursive loop may be imminent.

[text]

[imperial_long]

The list is not short. I think it would be a more efficient use of our mutual time for you to at least declare a regional preference.

Re: [text]

[infinitelystranger]

Nahuatl.

Challenge: accepted.

[text]

[imperial_long]

In the restaurant, Long's brows arch slightly at the one-word response. One long finger taps on the tablecloth next to his silverware, three times, and then he smiles. Not that any but Extras are close enough to see, but it's definitely a smile of oddly childlike delight.

His fingers return to the tablet, typing quickly.

There are some thirty dialects of Nahuatl recognized by the Mexican government alone, Mr. Holmes; many of them mutually unintelligible to one another. Classical Nahuatl is not a bad option, though, if you would rather focus on the admittedly fascinating 16th and 17th century writings that have been left behind.

[text] --> [visual]

[infinitelystranger]

The visual call follows a few seconds after Long sends his response.

From the looks of the background, Sherlock Holmes is lying on his stomach on his bed, rumpled powder-blue sheets around him and tablet propped up in front of him on a pillow so his head and bare white shoulders are front and center to the camera. He also doesn't appear to be wearing clothes. Most of them, anyway. Possibly any of them -- the view's a little prohibitive of that information.

He has the faintest ghost of stubble dusted along his jawline. The fact he didn't bother to shave it before calling Long is a clear indication of his interest. So is his expression, and the fact he immediately launches into an answer before any hellos or small-talk can be exchanged. "My primary interest is in the Chinese alphabet," he says, abrupt. "I don't mean Mandarin or Cantonese, though I'm sure that a better teacher of Cantonese I couldn't ask for."

[visual]

[imperial_long]

Long offers an amiable smile in return to the scruffy (and nude?) young man gazing back at him from the tablet.

"You probably could not, here at least," he says equably in answer to the off-hand compliment.

"As for the alphabet-- Hanyu Pinyin, then?"

If he knows there's a difference between Mandarin and Cantonese (most Westerners don't, in Long's experience), then Long assumes he's probably familiar with the fact that Chinese has only recently* bothered to develop an alphabet at all.


*recently meaning 'the last five or six decades', in the case of Pinyin, at least

[visual]

[infinitelystranger]

"Hanzi," Sherlock clarifies, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand. His frame blocks out most of the visual transmission, but the room he's in is sunny and bright at the moment and the walls are painted white. "I have an interest in the logographic alphabet. I'm aware this is a business of substantial memorization."

He's structured and set aside an entire wing for his mind palace for this very purpose, actually. Functional literacy in hanzi requires memorization of close to four thousand characters; Sherlock has higher aims than this.

While he waits for his answer, he studies Long again: his curious coloring and the even more curious proportions of his hands. In his small amount of time in Taxon he's learned to look at such details differently, aware that here they may not signify merely a minute and interesting point of human genetic variation.

[visual]

[imperial_long]

"Ahhh," Long says, his smile deepening when Sherlock says that, no, he wants to learn proper Chinese. (Well, that's what Long hears, anyway.)

He props the tablet up against his water glass so that his hands are free in order to set his chin upon them, elbows on the table, leaning forward in clear interest. He is less intrigued by Sherlock's surroundings than by the opportunity to squee engage in enlightened linguistic discourse.

"I should be delighted to teach you such, then, if you would like. Is your focus on wanting to be able to read and write contemporary Chinese script, or the classical?"

[visual]

[infinitelystranger]

"Contemporary Chinese script is relevant to my work." The tablet bumps around a little as Sherlock shifts to reach for something. He retrieves a pad of paper, mechanical pencil, and separate eraser like a maths student's. "Classical logographic script is fascinating, which is a consideration, but not a decisive one."

Aptitude tests have consistently scored him a slightly more powerful quantitative and spatial reasoner than a verbal one, but he's always considered this a function of the ceilings of aptitude tests. They're no use for distinguishing past a certain proficiency level. In Sherlock's estimation his mathematical reasoning is vastly more powerful than his verbal: he's never even considered a tutor for the maths and sciences.

Still, he's a quick study. He'd have to be, to take on a casual study of written Chinese and expect to reach fluency. But one thing he certainly has is time.

[visual]

[imperial_long]

"Then we can begin with the contemporary, and see how we progress?" Long asks politely. "Life here tends to feature a great deal of free time. This is a pleasant way to pass it."

He arches a brow when Sherlock rummages around and turns up... paper. Long smiles slowly, broadly.

"Your enthusiasm is to commended, Mr. Holmes, but are you expecting to begin lessons in this self-same moment? I have a lunch date, and a different lesson, scheduled to arrive shortly, you see."