[If it’s one thing Konoha is positive of after talking to people on Lunatia... It’s that future Japan definitely changed a lot. Whether she could comfortably imagine her own Japan would end up that way eventually, when no one else she met came from a world with jinba she isn’t sure, but...]
Oh, sorry- Adopted father.
[She corrects herself with a little wave of her hand, still often finding herself slipping into the habit of a village girl where everyone simply just knew everyone else’s circumstance and how the world worked. Explanations, people need context!]
My birth parents died in the wars, but I had people to raise me. They’re just human, is all.
[Quickly glossed over, wars, though the year she claimed to hail from... had certainly seen decades of it. And her guest might see, if he had a keen enough eye, that thanks to that more human upbringing Konoha sometimes moves her equine half in ways far more like mimic of human habits than horse. Like the way she rubs one front fetlock over another in chagrin when she realizes she’s just been yammering about his height in the doorway.]
Goodness, I have you here in the entranceway like some kind of merchant- Come in! I’ll get some tea, you have a seat.
[The upside to growing up in less modern times and working on a lumber yard and construction sites since you were old enough to haul a log is that the farmhouse is a near perfect image of what you’d expect from a 17th century countryside, with a step up from the dirt into the wooden floored house with a place for shoes (and a hoofpick) and most everything but the kitchen (into which Konoha briefly disappears in quest for tea) focused in a single large main room, with a sunken hearth in the center surrounded by cushions, large futons and blankets carefully piled along the wall, and only a few other features like a home altar atop a chest of drawers, a basket of sewing, and simple shelf that seems to contain elementary writing workbooks and a few Lunatian knickknacks.
And on the plus side for taller humans... the ceilings are quite high to accommodate centaur bodies.]
no subject
Oh, sorry- Adopted father.
[She corrects herself with a little wave of her hand, still often finding herself slipping into the habit of a village girl where everyone simply just knew everyone else’s circumstance and how the world worked. Explanations, people need context!]
My birth parents died in the wars, but I had people to raise me. They’re just human, is all.
[Quickly glossed over, wars, though the year she claimed to hail from... had certainly seen decades of it. And her guest might see, if he had a keen enough eye, that thanks to that more human upbringing Konoha sometimes moves her equine half in ways far more like mimic of human habits than horse. Like the way she rubs one front fetlock over another in chagrin when she realizes she’s just been yammering about his height in the doorway.]
Goodness, I have you here in the entranceway like some kind of merchant- Come in! I’ll get some tea, you have a seat.
[The upside to growing up in less modern times and working on a lumber yard and construction sites since you were old enough to haul a log is that the farmhouse is a near perfect image of what you’d expect from a 17th century countryside, with a step up from the dirt into the wooden floored house with a place for shoes (and a hoofpick) and most everything but the kitchen (into which Konoha briefly disappears in quest for tea) focused in a single large main room, with a sunken hearth in the center surrounded by cushions, large futons and blankets carefully piled along the wall, and only a few other features like a home altar atop a chest of drawers, a basket of sewing, and simple shelf that seems to contain elementary writing workbooks and a few Lunatian knickknacks.
And on the plus side for taller humans... the ceilings are quite high to accommodate centaur bodies.]