You mean the city I come from? [Which is his home, though his desires are more specific than that.] It's in the middle of the rain forest and circles a huge tree. It's the nation of wisdom, where people value knowledge and discovery.
People value different things. No society is that cohesive. [He gestures with his glass.] But as far as virtues go, the pursuit of knowledge is an important one in Sumeru.
Huh. [Even Sumeru isn't the only place known for discovery and education, though they're certainly considered the best of it even if the nation doesn't invest in the kinds of technological developments of Fontaine or Snehznaya. Of course, the Fatui pursue dangerous experiments and Fontaine blew up their school so he doesn't think that's necessarily a fault in their priorities.]
There's no place people go for the best education?
I had to learn how to read and write from a woman who raised me. The Colonel was a member of the Literary Society though. Once I knew how to read, he showed me how to enjoy poetry.
[She picks through her memories one by one, then remembers one that had made the tears shimmer in the eyes of her companions, their wrinkled cheeks wet. She stands up, straightening her back as she recites the poem, her voice clear and resonate.
It's apparent why she had been asked to read poetry to the elderly in her time as a caretaker]
Why does God allow that mothers go away? A mother has no limit, she is time without hour, light that does not fade when the wind blows and the rain falls. A velvet hidden on wrinkled skin, pure water, clean air, pure thought.
Death happens to what is brief and goes by without leaving a trace. a mother, in her grace, is eternity. Why must God remember - profound mystery - to take her away someday? Were I the king of the world, I would create a law: a mother does never die, she will always stay with her child and her child, though old, will be little like a maize grain
[It's a poem of grief. Alhaitham didn't get to know his mother, to know what missing being raised by her would be. But he did have his grandmother, in fulfilling the same role has left enough to understand the feeling.]
That's a good poem, and you're a very good orator. You'd get along with Kaveh--he loves this kind of thing.
He's an architect. But it's not enough for him to just design buildings. [Alhaitham drops his chin on his hand. It keeps the room from spinning as much.] they need to be beautiful. Perfect. He won't settle for anything less. He's brilliant, so there's no reason he can't achieve it, but sometimes he lets his standards get too unrealistic for one person.
Sumeru didn't always appreciate the arts, but not Kaveh. He always thought that part of humanity was important. He also paints and plays the dutar.
That's what I said. [Alhaitham huffs. Nala understands.] He always goes too far and risks burning out. Because he doesn't see his worth he lets many things obstruct him and make things even harder, when if he'd just draw a line he could better balance his work with himself.
[Alhaitham sighs.] But we've argued about that as long as we've known each other. I know he won't change his ideals. He should just... be happier.
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[Food. Sports Teams. Music. Other horrible things Nala shall not name]
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There's no place people go for the best education?
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[ She wonders if it's the same for all worlds]
I wouldn't know which is the best of all the countries though.
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I had to learn how to read and write from a woman who raised me. The Colonel was a member of the Literary Society though. Once I knew how to read, he showed me how to enjoy poetry.
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And that wasn't Old Quinteria, but someone else?
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[There you go: Nala's First Job. Caretaker]
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Alhaitham sets the glass down and pushes it away.] Remember any poems you like?
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[She'll clean up the glass automatically without thinking]
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[Give him the sad poetry.]
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It's apparent why she had been asked to read poetry to the elderly in her time as a caretaker]
Why does God allow
that mothers go away?
A mother has no limit,
she is time without hour,
light that does not fade
when the wind blows
and the rain falls.
A velvet hidden
on wrinkled skin,
pure water, clean air,
pure thought.
Death happens
to what is brief and goes by
without leaving a trace.
a mother, in her grace,
is eternity.
Why must God remember
- profound mystery -
to take her away someday?
Were I the king of the world,
I would create a law:
a mother does never die,
she will always stay
with her child
and her child, though old,
will be little
like a maize grain
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That's a good poem, and you're a very good orator. You'd get along with Kaveh--he loves this kind of thing.
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[ She's a tiny bit wistful]
What does he do?
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Sumeru didn't always appreciate the arts, but not Kaveh. He always thought that part of humanity was important. He also paints and plays the dutar.
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He seems like a wonderful, talented person. [She appreciates these stories on love] Though perfectionism has its downfalls.
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That's what I said. [Alhaitham huffs. Nala understands.] He always goes too far and risks burning out. Because he doesn't see his worth he lets many things obstruct him and make things even harder, when if he'd just draw a line he could better balance his work with himself.
[Alhaitham sighs.] But we've argued about that as long as we've known each other. I know he won't change his ideals. He should just... be happier.
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Have you told him that?
[Look at her giving relationship advice when she hasn't even held a proper one in over a decade]</small.
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[Maybe the problem is also that judging his life's choices is what Alhaitham tends to say the most.]
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I'm sure it'll take some time but he'll get it eventually.