[Frankly, it wouldn't have occurred to Onni to avoid eggs - unless they're owl eggs or harpy eggs, of course. But cereal and fruit is a good meal as well, and one he hasn't had in a while (especially the fruit), so he just leans a shoulder against a wall near Reynir and watches while he cooks.
The information about Reynir's family is interesting enough. He makes mental note of the name of the brother he'd met, and the oldest brother. The context about how big Ólafur is makes the story he'd told earlier more amusing, and Onni can't help the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, thinking about that drunk challenging a very large Icelandic sailor to a fight.]
Did your brother even have to raise a hand in that fight, then?
[It's said with mild interest, and then the second part of what Reynir had said sinks in. That he doesn't know his oldest brother very well but that he'd loved to hear his stories. It reminds him a little of himself and Lalli when they were younger, although Onni didn't have any particularly interesting stories to tell and Lalli wouldn't have known how to tell his own if he'd wanted to. Still, that unfamiliarity with someone who is family hits home. Even now, he wonders if he really knows Lalli sometimes.]
The ocean isn't really that impressive.
[It's big and terrifying and full of monsters, of course, but it's also boring to look out at endless waves for days on end.]
[ Reynir grins; there's a pride in the way he's holding his shoulders back, speaking up and boasting on his brother's behalf: ]
Hardly lifted a finger! He just kept stepping out of the way or batting the guy away like he was an annoying fly. Òlafur actually felt super bad when he got hurt, even though there was really not a lot he could've done. He's a good guy like that.
[ His hands keep moving even as he speaks, mixing spices into the cereal, and a little extra sugar into Onni's. He gives a little nod to the table, grabs the bowls and leaves Onni to bring over the fruit so they can sit. ]
Well, everything seems pretty impressive when you've never been anywhere or done anything. You saw where I grew up. It's nice, but it isn't...
[ Reynir trails off with a shrug, some embarrassment creeping into his expression. He doesn't mean to speak ill of his home, but at the same time, Onni must have seen how little there was to do or see in that small farming village. Reynir's life had been safe, but it had been dull and repetitive and full of restrictions and a hopeless sense that he would never be able to choose something else for himself. ]
And once I did see it - well... it was still impressive to me. Scary, but - impressive.
[Onni nods along to acknowledge what Reynir is saying, to show he's listening to the story Reynir is telling. It's obvious that despite not knowing him well, Reynir likes his brother very much, and is proud of him. For a moment, Onni wonders if that's how Lalli feels about him.
He can't imagine Lalli boasting about anything Onni has done.]
Mm. Too bad I didn't get to meet him.
[Reynir may be optimistic, but Onni is practical. He knows that outside of this place, it's likely that he'll never see Reynir again, let alone his family. It's said in an even, practical sort of tone, like he's stating the obvious, and while he talks, he brings the fruit to the table and goes to settle in. One wing bashes against the back of the table, and Onni hisses slightly, shuffling and readjusting them before he sits down again, shaking his head.]
Don't forget, I never saw the ocean until this year either. And I hadn't left Keuruu in eleven years.
[Another matter-of-fact statement, as he starts scooping fruit on top of his cereal.]
[ Reynir winces in sympathy as Onni hits his wing on the table, one hand reaching up as if to help, though it merely hovers in the air as Onni adjusts himself and has a seat. He wants to ask if Onni is alright, again, if there is anything he can do... but he holds the words back, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. He doesn't want Onni to feel pitied, or hovered over. But despite his self-control verbally, Reynir's face still betrays that worry.
It's a worry that only intensifies when Onni talks about not leaving Keuruu. There's a certain danger to the topic, after all. Onni had gone to Keuruu and stayed within its walls for so long because horrible, violent things had happened to his family. Then, Tuuri and Lalli had left, against his objections, and he'd left too because of them. And then horrible, violent things had happened to his family yet again, and he hadn't been able to stop it.
Reynir looks down at his cereal, stirring it idly with his spoon but not taking a bite yet. Cautiously, he says: ]
But it sounds like Keuruu never really got to be home, right? In all that time, you couldn't really... make it yours?
[ Paint and decorations and little things like that might seem inconsequential, but they are indicative of something larger, Reynir thinks. ]
[From the corner of his eye, Onni can see the way Reynir winces when he bumps his wing on the table, and he sighs slightly. It's only to be expected when a person starts sprouting new and unexpected appendages, that this kind of accident will happen. Besides, Onni has never been particularly graceful anyhow.
While he scoops the last bit of fruit onto his cereal (and there's almost as much fruit as cereal at this point) he glances up at Reynir, only to see that he's still looking at him with that expression of worry on his face. This time, Onni has no idea what he's so worried about. It can't still be his wing, can it? That would be a little weird. So he turns his attention to his food, mouth pursed a bit while he dips a spoon into the pile of cereal and fruit. When he takes a bite of sweet cereal and fruit, though, his expression softens and his eyes close for just a moment while he enjoys the taste.
Reynir's question makes it more clear why he looked so concerned, though Onni doesn't really understand why, exactly.]
Not really, no. There wasn't much you could do with military quarters. I don't think it was much of a problem, though.
[ Reynir hums a noncommittal sound in his throat, then take a bite of his own cereal to buy himself some time to think what he wants to say. There was a time, not all that long ago, when he would have just spoken his mind without ever stopping to think if it was a good idea. But he has been trying, more recently, to be a bit more careful with his words.
Especially around Onni.
He had wondered, after all, now and then, listening to the Finnish rain falling on their tent as they camped for the night, if he had said or done something to contribute to Onni's abrupt departure. If he could have found the right combination of words to make him stay, or reconsider going alone. He'd long since worked out that he was the last one to see Onni, before he left. Reynir knows now he should have tried harder to stop him. ]
I'm not sure we are always the most reliable judges about what are and aren't problems in our lives, until something changes and we can get a little perspective.
[ He broadens the statement, as if it isn't just about Onni, but an observation about most people. And it is. But Reynir thinks that is particularly true in Onni's case. He's been in survival mode for so long. It's made his priorities a little whack.
Then, he adds: ]
I want to make this place home. Even if we are only here for a little while. Even though my other friends and my family aren't here. While I'm here - I'm going to let it be mine.
[If he knew what Reynir was thinking, Onni would roll his eyes and brush it off - at that point, he'd long since made the decision to go back to Keuruu and past it, it was simply a matter of how to implement it. Nothing anyone could have said, then, would have stopped him.
What Reynir says about being an unreliable judge of his own problems, Onni makes a soft 'hm' in his throat. It makes sense, he can agree with it, but in this particular case he doesn't think it applies. Onni hasn't had a home since he left Keuruu, and he hasn't felt like he wanted one. Not if it wasn't his real home. From what he can tell, that hasn't done him any harm. Not having a home tailored to one's personality doesn't seem imperative, to Onni. Having a place to sleep and food to eat does, of course, but the rest just strikes him as unnecessary trappings.]
I suppose. I don't suppose I've noticed the lack of a place being home. As long as I had a safe place to sleep and food to eat, why would the rest matter?
[ Reynir is quiet for a moment, considering Onni's perspective on the matter. Of course, the basics of survival are more important. Maybe, Reynir thinks, he doesn't see them as enough because he has simply lived a safer and more privileged life than Onni. He had not worried about having those things, while he was still with his parents, so he doesn't consider them enough.
But something in him can't quite believe that. Just because survival is more important, doesn't mean that a sense of belonging and ownership over one's home isn't also important in its own way. Reynir doesn't really have the words to articulate that feeling, though, so he merely shrugs and says quietly: ]
I don't really know why. But I think... it does.
[ His stomach twists a little, as he remembers finding Onni in that tree. Reynir thinks about how worried he'd been not knowing where he was before that. How relieved he was when Onni agreed to come back and move up to the attic. So, looking up from his cereal and into Onni's eyes, he adds: ]
And... I wanted to say that... I think the reason this place feels like it can be home for me is because you're here.
[ He doesn't say anything more, just lets those words out, lets them sink into the space between them. ]
[Perhaps this difference is to do with how privileged and safe a life Reynir had had growing up, sheltered as he was in Iceland, away from the Rash and shielded from the world's ugliness by overprotective parents. Beyond that, it might also be some side effect of how losing his family and home and community had left Onni feeling rootless and stuck permanently in survival mode, how it had stripped away some of his sense of self. Onni hasn't put much thought into it, into how that had affected him beyond the practical. He knows he has changed from what he was as a child and pre-teen, he knows that his priorities and outlook are different, but that is, in his mind, simply to be expected. The sentimentality of it is mostly lost on him, though, it seems obvious that a big event like that would change a person's life, and that taking on the care of two children would change a person's priorities.
None of it necessarily strikes him as a negative change. There is simply no home to feel ownership of or belonging in. For eleven years, there has just been a military encampment, work, and family. Tuuri and Lalli were what made him feel at home in Keuruu. But they're gone, now, and he still doesn't see the point.]
I suppose.
[It's carefully neutral. He doesn't have any more words to express himself or his thoughts on the matter and doesn't think it's important enough to continue pushing or debating. The rest of what Reynir says is more pressing anyhow, and one of Onni's brows raises.]
That makes sense, I guess. We are from the same world and have a common experience, in a manner of speaking.
[ Onni is right, of course, and that shared world is an important thing between them. At the same time, that's not really what Reynir was getting at. So he attempts to clarify. ]
But I don't think it would feel like home if it was, like, Mikkel here. Even though Mikkel's great, don't get me wrong.
[ Reynir brushes his braid off his shoulder, stirring at his cereal, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth: ]
What I'm saying is... I'm just really glad you're here, Onni.
[For a moment, Onni is just quiet, looking at Reynir across the table while he parses both what he'd said and how he'd said it. That Mikkel was great but that he wouldn't be the same, and the way he says that he's very glad Onni is here with a small smile at the corners of his mouth.
It isn't as if it's about the ability to speak Icelandic or anything, Mikkel had spoken it better than Onni himself does. For a moment, he contemplates it, mouth pursed a bit as he picks at the fruit on the top of his cereal, flipping over a piece of strawberry and then scooping it up with a bit of grain. It's that connection, he thinks. The one that allowed Onni to hear Reynir through the dream realm, while he was awake, from two countries away when he'd cried for help. There is something there, and not even Onni can really deny it, no matter how much he refuses to talk about it or even think about it too much.]
Mm. I suppose it wouldn't be the same for me either, if it were someone like Siv, for example. Or even one of the other mages I knew from home.
[It's oblique, but it still is a reference to that connection, to the fact that there's some intangible thing between them that, despite his education and reading, even Onni can't quite understand or name.]
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no subject
The information about Reynir's family is interesting enough. He makes mental note of the name of the brother he'd met, and the oldest brother. The context about how big Ólafur is makes the story he'd told earlier more amusing, and Onni can't help the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, thinking about that drunk challenging a very large Icelandic sailor to a fight.]
Did your brother even have to raise a hand in that fight, then?
[It's said with mild interest, and then the second part of what Reynir had said sinks in. That he doesn't know his oldest brother very well but that he'd loved to hear his stories. It reminds him a little of himself and Lalli when they were younger, although Onni didn't have any particularly interesting stories to tell and Lalli wouldn't have known how to tell his own if he'd wanted to. Still, that unfamiliarity with someone who is family hits home. Even now, he wonders if he really knows Lalli sometimes.]
The ocean isn't really that impressive.
[It's big and terrifying and full of monsters, of course, but it's also boring to look out at endless waves for days on end.]
no subject
Hardly lifted a finger! He just kept stepping out of the way or batting the guy away like he was an annoying fly. Òlafur actually felt super bad when he got hurt, even though there was really not a lot he could've done. He's a good guy like that.
[ His hands keep moving even as he speaks, mixing spices into the cereal, and a little extra sugar into Onni's. He gives a little nod to the table, grabs the bowls and leaves Onni to bring over the fruit so they can sit. ]
Well, everything seems pretty impressive when you've never been anywhere or done anything. You saw where I grew up. It's nice, but it isn't...
[ Reynir trails off with a shrug, some embarrassment creeping into his expression. He doesn't mean to speak ill of his home, but at the same time, Onni must have seen how little there was to do or see in that small farming village. Reynir's life had been safe, but it had been dull and repetitive and full of restrictions and a hopeless sense that he would never be able to choose something else for himself. ]
And once I did see it - well... it was still impressive to me. Scary, but - impressive.
no subject
He can't imagine Lalli boasting about anything Onni has done.]
Mm. Too bad I didn't get to meet him.
[Reynir may be optimistic, but Onni is practical. He knows that outside of this place, it's likely that he'll never see Reynir again, let alone his family. It's said in an even, practical sort of tone, like he's stating the obvious, and while he talks, he brings the fruit to the table and goes to settle in. One wing bashes against the back of the table, and Onni hisses slightly, shuffling and readjusting them before he sits down again, shaking his head.]
Don't forget, I never saw the ocean until this year either. And I hadn't left Keuruu in eleven years.
[Another matter-of-fact statement, as he starts scooping fruit on top of his cereal.]
no subject
It's a worry that only intensifies when Onni talks about not leaving Keuruu. There's a certain danger to the topic, after all. Onni had gone to Keuruu and stayed within its walls for so long because horrible, violent things had happened to his family. Then, Tuuri and Lalli had left, against his objections, and he'd left too because of them. And then horrible, violent things had happened to his family yet again, and he hadn't been able to stop it.
Reynir looks down at his cereal, stirring it idly with his spoon but not taking a bite yet. Cautiously, he says: ]
But it sounds like Keuruu never really got to be home, right? In all that time, you couldn't really... make it yours?
[ Paint and decorations and little things like that might seem inconsequential, but they are indicative of something larger, Reynir thinks. ]
no subject
While he scoops the last bit of fruit onto his cereal (and there's almost as much fruit as cereal at this point) he glances up at Reynir, only to see that he's still looking at him with that expression of worry on his face. This time, Onni has no idea what he's so worried about. It can't still be his wing, can it? That would be a little weird. So he turns his attention to his food, mouth pursed a bit while he dips a spoon into the pile of cereal and fruit. When he takes a bite of sweet cereal and fruit, though, his expression softens and his eyes close for just a moment while he enjoys the taste.
Reynir's question makes it more clear why he looked so concerned, though Onni doesn't really understand why, exactly.]
Not really, no. There wasn't much you could do with military quarters. I don't think it was much of a problem, though.
no subject
[ Reynir hums a noncommittal sound in his throat, then take a bite of his own cereal to buy himself some time to think what he wants to say. There was a time, not all that long ago, when he would have just spoken his mind without ever stopping to think if it was a good idea. But he has been trying, more recently, to be a bit more careful with his words.
Especially around Onni.
He had wondered, after all, now and then, listening to the Finnish rain falling on their tent as they camped for the night, if he had said or done something to contribute to Onni's abrupt departure. If he could have found the right combination of words to make him stay, or reconsider going alone. He'd long since worked out that he was the last one to see Onni, before he left. Reynir knows now he should have tried harder to stop him. ]
I'm not sure we are always the most reliable judges about what are and aren't problems in our lives, until something changes and we can get a little perspective.
[ He broadens the statement, as if it isn't just about Onni, but an observation about most people. And it is. But Reynir thinks that is particularly true in Onni's case. He's been in survival mode for so long. It's made his priorities a little whack.
Then, he adds: ]
I want to make this place home. Even if we are only here for a little while. Even though my other friends and my family aren't here. While I'm here - I'm going to let it be mine.
no subject
What Reynir says about being an unreliable judge of his own problems, Onni makes a soft 'hm' in his throat. It makes sense, he can agree with it, but in this particular case he doesn't think it applies. Onni hasn't had a home since he left Keuruu, and he hasn't felt like he wanted one. Not if it wasn't his real home. From what he can tell, that hasn't done him any harm. Not having a home tailored to one's personality doesn't seem imperative, to Onni. Having a place to sleep and food to eat does, of course, but the rest just strikes him as unnecessary trappings.]
I suppose. I don't suppose I've noticed the lack of a place being home. As long as I had a safe place to sleep and food to eat, why would the rest matter?
no subject
But something in him can't quite believe that. Just because survival is more important, doesn't mean that a sense of belonging and ownership over one's home isn't also important in its own way. Reynir doesn't really have the words to articulate that feeling, though, so he merely shrugs and says quietly: ]
I don't really know why. But I think... it does.
[ His stomach twists a little, as he remembers finding Onni in that tree. Reynir thinks about how worried he'd been not knowing where he was before that. How relieved he was when Onni agreed to come back and move up to the attic. So, looking up from his cereal and into Onni's eyes, he adds: ]
And... I wanted to say that... I think the reason this place feels like it can be home for me is because you're here.
[ He doesn't say anything more, just lets those words out, lets them sink into the space between them. ]
no subject
None of it necessarily strikes him as a negative change. There is simply no home to feel ownership of or belonging in. For eleven years, there has just been a military encampment, work, and family. Tuuri and Lalli were what made him feel at home in Keuruu. But they're gone, now, and he still doesn't see the point.]
I suppose.
[It's carefully neutral. He doesn't have any more words to express himself or his thoughts on the matter and doesn't think it's important enough to continue pushing or debating. The rest of what Reynir says is more pressing anyhow, and one of Onni's brows raises.]
That makes sense, I guess. We are from the same world and have a common experience, in a manner of speaking.
no subject
[ Onni is right, of course, and that shared world is an important thing between them. At the same time, that's not really what Reynir was getting at. So he attempts to clarify. ]
But I don't think it would feel like home if it was, like, Mikkel here. Even though Mikkel's great, don't get me wrong.
[ Reynir brushes his braid off his shoulder, stirring at his cereal, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth: ]
What I'm saying is... I'm just really glad you're here, Onni.
no subject
It isn't as if it's about the ability to speak Icelandic or anything, Mikkel had spoken it better than Onni himself does. For a moment, he contemplates it, mouth pursed a bit as he picks at the fruit on the top of his cereal, flipping over a piece of strawberry and then scooping it up with a bit of grain. It's that connection, he thinks. The one that allowed Onni to hear Reynir through the dream realm, while he was awake, from two countries away when he'd cried for help. There is something there, and not even Onni can really deny it, no matter how much he refuses to talk about it or even think about it too much.]
Mm. I suppose it wouldn't be the same for me either, if it were someone like Siv, for example. Or even one of the other mages I knew from home.
[It's oblique, but it still is a reference to that connection, to the fact that there's some intangible thing between them that, despite his education and reading, even Onni can't quite understand or name.]