Lake Mithrim is calm after Utumno freezes. Researchers research, Kat and Catherine tear around like little monsters, wizards fly, Elves sing.
Lake Mithrim ripples. It now has three islands in it. One of them is an architecturally stunning music hall, distinctly Elven but with superior material sciences underlying its construction. The other is a house, not Elven at all, narrow and without any yard to it, just stairs to a few feet of sidewalk.
Peka sways along till there is a good opening to ask if she can ask him a thing real quick in private. Once the internet was up she got Pink Peka to render it into Quenya for her and has it written down phonetically.
"Does leaning on the telepathy for translation weird you out, it is a bit weird. Yeah, sure. What -"
"Um I'm not really grey and me and Ana haven't dyed our hair in a few days now is there magic for it."
" - no wonder everyone was like 'Amenta is terrible' - I'm sure there is but I would hafta look it up - do you want it changed temporarily or permanently -"
Nod. "- other Peka is listening and translating for me," she adds, waving her pocket everything.
"Oh good I was going to be really annoyed with him if he actually bought into all the hair silliness."
"About your hair color. That's not even a lie - it's, like, there's lying about your background for wizards, and that's not a good thing to keep from someone but it's awfully understandable and you'd have to be an asshole to be mad when someone trusted you enough to say - but hair color -"
"Oh, I didn't say, I got snowed into his house and burned my hand trying to use cleaning bleach instead of hair bleach and he heard me and walked in."
"Not really I'm very good at it. I pretended to be a, uh, two-Amentan-year-old girl once and still won."
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