She doesn't quite laugh, but she comes awfully close. The portrait Harry has presented of himself is of a sincere nobility of spirit, a virtuousness that is not in spite of anything; not an inaccurate assessment, but of course such people always show their true faces. They have no other face to show, no masks to wear. All in all, it makes for a very favorable impression. It's just that his immediate concern about literal roses is particularly funny manifestation of that spirit.
Ieza takes a long draw off the canteen, wiping her mouth with her sleeve before answering. "Ah- no it's anatomy. Metaphysical anatomy, really. There's obviously not real rose." OBVIOUSLY.
"The river-" she points to her stomach, using her finger to draw a curving line just under her navel, "is what sustains all life. Even things that do not think or speak need water. It represents the complexity in simplicity that is the nature of motive matter. The river is a singular, undifferentiated force but it has many currents, many eddies. Like all life, as life."
It's clear that giving this little tutorial brings her pleasure. She takes a visible glee in not just knowing, but getting to show that she knows.
"The rose-" she points to the hollow of her throat and draws her finger in a straight line up to the middle of her forehead, "is the capacity for reason, speech, and the generative potential of all arts. It represents the simplicity in complexity that is the essence of any art. The many petals, leaves and thorns of the rose still produce a singular impression of beauty. Like thought, which distills the essence of things beyond their material being.
"Of course I don't mean it literally. I don't even believe it, as such. It's a very, very old idea. But it's still useful, I think. Many scholars forget that without the river, the rose wilts."
She offers the canteen back to Harry, her smile palliative, as if to say 'see, I'm fine, it's taken care of, no need to worry'. It's a sentiment she's quite purposefully trying to foster in herself, and Harry's concern is a mirror ill-suited for that self-attitude. She is looking better, though.
"Now- you must show me how the broom works." This is not merely a convenient change of subject. Her interest in the possibility of FLIGHT has not flagged. "It may be difficult for me to learn the skill, but I've acquired more obscure praxes before, I'm sure."
no subject
Ieza takes a long draw off the canteen, wiping her mouth with her sleeve before answering. "Ah- no it's anatomy. Metaphysical anatomy, really. There's obviously not real rose." OBVIOUSLY.
"The river-" she points to her stomach, using her finger to draw a curving line just under her navel, "is what sustains all life. Even things that do not think or speak need water. It represents the complexity in simplicity that is the nature of motive matter. The river is a singular, undifferentiated force but it has many currents, many eddies. Like all life, as life."
It's clear that giving this little tutorial brings her pleasure. She takes a visible glee in not just knowing, but getting to show that she knows.
"The rose-" she points to the hollow of her throat and draws her finger in a straight line up to the middle of her forehead, "is the capacity for reason, speech, and the generative potential of all arts. It represents the simplicity in complexity that is the essence of any art. The many petals, leaves and thorns of the rose still produce a singular impression of beauty. Like thought, which distills the essence of things beyond their material being.
"Of course I don't mean it literally. I don't even believe it, as such. It's a very, very old idea. But it's still useful, I think. Many scholars forget that without the river, the rose wilts."
She offers the canteen back to Harry, her smile palliative, as if to say 'see, I'm fine, it's taken care of, no need to worry'. It's a sentiment she's quite purposefully trying to foster in herself, and Harry's concern is a mirror ill-suited for that self-attitude. She is looking better, though.
"Now- you must show me how the broom works." This is not merely a convenient change of subject. Her interest in the possibility of FLIGHT has not flagged. "It may be difficult for me to learn the skill, but I've acquired more obscure praxes before, I'm sure."