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[wythersake]

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[sulahnan]

Can you really call it art when it sounds like that?

[wythersake]

I suppose that depends upon one's intention. I once saw a man labour weeks toward a dreadful portrait of a young lady — I understand she meant to quash an attempt at matchmaking.

[sulahnan]

Well if he's trying to emulate the sound of a dying cat then I guess he's spot on.

[ Wait, why had she called? ]

But do you?

[wythersake]

Emulate a dying cat?

[sulahnan]

Why would you do that?

[ Gasp. ]

Is that why violin strings are made of cat guts?

[wythersake]

They're usually goat. Don't tell.

[sulahnan]

[ She snorts and giggles. ]

Baa.

[ But seriously: ]

Do they really?

[wythersake]

Oh, goats. Cows — anything you've already killed. Ser Faure, a chevalier, claimed to use wyvern.

[sulahnan]

Woooow.

Was his successor called Ser Five?

[wythersake]

The wyvern that ate him? I suppose you might knight it.

[sulahnan]

If I had a pet dragon I'd definitely name it after a Chevalier. That shit's funny.

[wythersake]

That bat is the size of one.

[sulahnan]

Batty Batkins isn't the size of a dragon.

[wythersake]

Have you seen a dragon?

[sulahnan]

Uh, yeah, [ Duh. ] One flew over us in the jungle, and Batty's way smaller than those dragonlings were.

[wythersake]

He's a growing boy.

[sulahnan]

I guess it's a good thing he lives in the aerie now, huh...

[ ...AH! ]

Beetles, Isaac, that's what I was asking before the avant-goat violinning.

[wythersake]

Speaker Fabria keeps them.

[sulahnan]

D'you give him all your bugs or somethin'?

[wythersake]

These pre-date our acquaintance.

[sulahnan]

Ours? Or yours?

[wythersake]

Both? Unless you've some previously undisclosed past within the Grand Necropolis —

[sulahnan]

[ An exceptionally doofy laugh. ]

Maybe I was born in the Gram Nepro—Nepop—popotamus, you don't know!

[wythersake]

Maker, your poor mother.

[sulahnan]

She's undoublety disapparated with her daughter, whenever she is.

[ r/ambien ]