for Kurt
Jon was the first to admit that he did not always understand the culture of the island and since it had changed from the sultry, balmy environment he'd just gotten used to into something like a tight-packed city, he understood it even less. The clothes box wouldn't provide anything but strange clothing that was nothing like the modern garb of the island or like his leathers and mail from Westeros.
Then there had been the singing. There were specters in the streets, people who weren't really there, per se, and some of them had been going door to door and singing at night. It wasn't something that made much sense to Jon but he imagined if anyone knew anything about singing, it would be Kurt. Kurt had a fine, clear voice and the way he'd described it, he was some sort of bard or actor back in his own home.
When he managed to find Kurt in the common areas of what used to be the Compound, Jon seized his chance to ask.
"Kurt? Do you mind explaining some culture to me again? Someday I may not be so blind but today is not that day."
Then there had been the singing. There were specters in the streets, people who weren't really there, per se, and some of them had been going door to door and singing at night. It wasn't something that made much sense to Jon but he imagined if anyone knew anything about singing, it would be Kurt. Kurt had a fine, clear voice and the way he'd described it, he was some sort of bard or actor back in his own home.
When he managed to find Kurt in the common areas of what used to be the Compound, Jon seized his chance to ask.
"Kurt? Do you mind explaining some culture to me again? Someday I may not be so blind but today is not that day."