"God, I hate this fucking place." Within Brookhaven, a man spoke in perfect Veria, the language of Severia, to his comrade as he scooped up a piece of food with his wooden spoon. The man opposite him chuckled in agreement and looked around.
"You know, we have to talk in their language." Speaking in the Ammar language, the other man acted as if he had swallowed dirt, saying that and leaning forward, switching to Veria, "It doesn't even sound nice, let alone saying it." Scoping up another bite of food, he stared at it for a few seconds and sighed, dropping the bite of food, unable to eat the chunk of cold vegetables.
"I know how you feel. Ahhh, I want to go home." The man picked up the mug of beer and downed it. The other chuckled, enjoying his own beer. After a year in the Empire, it was the one thing that he could stand to taste in the foreign land.
