Language Barrier
Resting on the palm of my hand lies a detailed sandstone sculpture of lúkvir flower, but without stem and leaves. The result of my “children’s trick.” It is big, detailed and pretty enough – in my opinion – to serve as mantelpiece decoration or a paperweight. It might net me more than a drink, if I manage to haggle a decent barter for it.
The Midgardians move so slowly through the strange file, but my impatience and discomfort are soothed – at least a little – by my renewed confidence and eagerness, with a bartering item in hand. – I cannot wait to taste the drinks on offer! They smell rather fruity, but also somewhat savoury, and such blend is rare in all the realms that I have visited.
The shopkeeper is a young woman with short, purple conical spikes for hair and bubbly demeanour, as I find once I arrive at the kiosk’s counter. And, unfortunately….
“Hiya! What flavor, kid?”
I gape.
“I am not a goat’s offspring!”
Why in Asgard did I say that? And what is wrong with my voice? It sounded so… childish.
She laughs, then.
I am not surprised. If I were she, I would laugh as well. But still!