Camelonean Summer Exchange Program (IC, MT)

[Camelone]

Cullyburgh was a buzz of activity as usual, people were making their way to and from the Teasa Quarters to get their business done for the day, and multiple cultures and people could be seen even from the windows of the high speed train that connected the city to the island airport. All students would be aboard this train as Missus agents dressed in their uniforms of black pants, a red sash around their waists, and a black dress shirt with the Royal seal on their chest, a white shoulder cape, and completing the uniform a black slouch hat with a purple plum sticking out escorted them to the train right when they got off of the their respective planes. The Camelonean government was taking no chance with the possibility of an incident and the Missus agents accompanied them all the way to the train and boarded it with the students. A private car was reserved for the foreign students, it was extravagantly designed with the finest materials available to the lord who constructed the monorail. The train car was stunning looking more like the sitting room of a well off noble or businessman instead of a simple train car that it was. The Missus agents talked among themselves as the train traveled, a few left for the next room over and could be seen smoking cigars while the other two who must have drawn the short straws stayed in the car, they leaned up against the wall and kept speaking in a fast paced Gaelic with their hands resting on their short swords and their pistols easily visible, in a spot for them to quickly draw and by the notches in one of their belts they had fired those guns in anger before.

Soon the train began to slow down and pulled into the station, the Missus agents returned to their wards quickly without a word, though they spoke amiably in their heavily accented English when asked something, though the information they gave was vague and would have already been known to anyone who read the travel brochure. With the doors opening the train station was revealed and numerous Royal banners adored the wall directly across from the opening of every train car. The arches were built in the same way one would expect from a grand cathedral, and pieces of artwork were seen all over the place. People kept on moving though not leaving many people the luxury of standing and staring. Guided by the Missus agents there was no problem getting outside the station and there two people were waiting a man and woman, their two guides. Officer Amariah O'Eidhin looked like a drill sergeant wearing blue slacks and a blue officer jacket, crisscrossed by two white bandoliers, both a saber and a pistol adorned his hips, black gloves covered his hands and his slacks were tucked into black boots, he stood at attention as he waited and when everyone got close he clicked his heels and gave the Roman salute.

"Hail the Crown." Officer Amariah said in Camelonean Gaelic to which the Missus agents replied with a salute of their own "Hail to the Fatherland." They replied. Dismissing them the Missus agents departed and left the students with the officer and Miss Neasa Monaghan who stepped up to speak. She was a young and rather attractive woman who wore a long green dress with brown boots underneath, a flower headscarf was wrapped tightly around her head, though strands of her golden blonde hair could be seen, and she held an umbrella over her shoulder.

"Hello there to you all. I am Miss Neasa Monaghan of the Royal Department of Foreign Affairs and this man right here is Officer Amariah O'Eidhin, if you have any concerns please voice them to either of us, we will be more than happy to answer any questions you have. You are here to learn about Camelone so ask away! From here we will board a bus and head to the hotel, we will from there head to main city square for dinner." A smile covered her features as she looked at the group in front of her while Officer Amariah returned to parade rest with a blank face that betrayed nothing.

OOC

[Great Nortend]

William, as Arthur William St John Walker was typically known as, had noticed the similarities between the tongue he presumed to be Camelonean Gaelic and his own Murish language though he had only caught snippets of words and couldn't particularly piece together their meaning in a coherent fashion. Nonetheless, Camelone had proved to be a quite remarkable country. William had enjoyed the train ride in what was called a 'monorail', and revelled in the ride's amazing smoothness. There were quite a few people part of the exchange programme and he was looking forward to getting to know them. He had noticed the intriguing dress of his fellow students. He himself was wearing highly casual spring-time dress, including a straw boating hat, cotton trousers and light, blue jacket. However, in other respects, it seemed the Cameloneans themselves looked very much rather like the people back home. How interesting it was to visit other countries, he thought.

[Greater vakolicci haven]

Leon Varina

At the forefront of the small group of exchange students sat a figure who would definitely not go unnoticed; unusually tall, with very long, messy blonde hair and piercing green eyes. The hair wasn't messy in the sense of someone who couldn't be bothered to make it look nice; the owner of the hair appeared to have gone to great lengths to cultivate the unkemptness factor of his blonde locks, and had settled on a style which could both be called 'big' and 'untamed.' He was also strapped firmly into a wheelchair, which he was manouvering with practised ease as they exited the train and joined the two guides who would be leading them at least for this expedition.
Oh...and he looked like if he could, he'd likely bolt right now. Leon Varina appeared highly strung, almost like someone who was in fear for his life; he expressed this fear when the guides introduced themselves.
"I come from a country where, like here, everybody owns and carries guns," he stated in his strongly-accented english. The Vakolicci accent, unlike the accents of many of their neighbours such as Celeria or Velstrania, often made listeners think the speaker was a little short in the brain cels or in need of mental assistance; it was melodic and bouncy, as if the speaker couldn't work out on which note his voice was based. It was perfectly normal to him, however, and so he continued. "I do not understand why I should not do what I do in my home country and which people do here in carrying a gun. It rather marks myself as an empty target, and given I sort of give that image already I'd rather be able to defend myself. I've seen what happens to people who are forced to blindly trust others to defend them; they die."

[Purgatio]

Ansel De Lussan was dressed in a neat, sky blue button-down dress shirt with a dark blue 3/4 sleeved cardigan and black chinos, and was sat in the corner of the train car reserved for the foreign students, and was rather enthralled by how ornate and vintage the architecture appeared to him. Almost like it was designed to exude an aura of faint nobility. Ansel grinned sweetly, quiet and introverted as he kept to himself, reading a chapter from a little blue book entitled La Solution Finale which was mandatory reading back in Purgatio, but periodically glancing up to look at the other students or listen to what the various uniformed agents were saying as they walked about the train, or glancing outside the window to admire the view of Camelone, but largely he concentrated on his own reading and only occasionally glanced about at his surroundings.

When he did, however, Ansel tried to take in as much of this strange and foreign country as he could. Having never left the borders of Purgatio before (unless one counted the various Occupied Territories), it made him visibly and instinctively uncomfortable to hear this strange language being spoken by the various uniformed agents, it was disconcerting just to hear them speak in a language other than English or French, but Ansel visibly relaxed when he saw the two women salute each other and clearly mouth off a regimented slogan. Although he did not understand the slogan, the tone and regimentation put him at ease because it was more familiar. He nodded with a polite 'thank you' at the woman who stood up to address the group of foreign exchange students, observing her clothing and the interesting flower headscarf.

He was about to return to reading La Solution Finale when a heavily-accented voice spoke out from the other end of the car, and he was so shocked he nearly dropped the book. His whole body tensed as he saw a young-looking kid, strapped to a wheelchair, boasting about how he wanted to own a gun. Ansel swore under his breath. It was one thing for this country to allow a clearly genetically-unclean individual into their nation, it was just irresponsible, but to allow this man to openly-brag about wanting to own a dangerous and lethal weapon was just too much. If that insolent and arrogant kid had in fact owned a gun on this exchange program it would have been more than enough for Ansel to demand to return home immediately, not wanting to risk his life spending an entire summer with an armed terrorist. All this, of course, Ansel kept to himself, not wanting to start an unnecessary confrontation, but when the genetically-disordered boy continued to ask for a gun, he could barely control his rage, hands clenched into fists. The arrogance and contumelious disregard for everyone's safety was off the charts with this person. Ansel couldn't help glaring and shaking his head as the boy continued to rattle on, talking about how, "like here, everybody owns and carries guns", which of course piqued Ansel's interest, concern and anxiety. He had no idea he was stepping into a country where gun ownership was commonplace, he was under the impression that the armed individuals in this train were simply members of the law enforcement community, not members of the general public. He decided to ignore the genetically-disordered boy to clarify his concern with the woman who was addressing the foreign students, "Miss...Miss Monaghan?" Ansel asked, eyes widened, his tone of voice was reserved and uncertain, "Is it true what that boy said, that everyone in this country owns a gun? I just thought the agents on this train were allowed to own guns because they are law enforcement?"

[The Selkie]

For Ida Ardscoil of the Tribe of Wicklow, the train ride had been uneventful, but fun - seeing the landscape of Camelone pass outside was interesting. A few observations were noted into her trusty notebook.
About the landscape, about other travellers, about their guards (and the language they spoke, which sounded vaguely familiar - she had gotten her hands onto a few Camelonian movies beforehand and watched them in the original dub... not understanding a bloody word), about the open presence of weapons... and the concern it seemed to cause one of her fellow students, who had been immersed into a book for most of the ride. The lavish decorations of the train had been noted, but it didn't impress her.
It certainly had been comfortable.
She was blonde, blue eyed, one of the few girls on this trip, but hard to miss: Mainly due to her wearing Full Geansai in Ladra's Colours, with the built corresponding to it, a cloak over it when outside to protect herself against the cold, held together with a silver brooch. With 24 Springs, she also figured, that she was amongst the older ones here, studying for her Master at the UoL, one of the best universities of the Free Lands. She had been permitted to carry two daggers on her person, both of them hidden.
When they arrived, she thought for a moment to offer help to the wheelchair driver, because she was polite, but he had disembarked before she could - meeting their guides had brought a small smile to her lips: Miss Monaghan seemed nice enough and was... "something to look at", as one of her fellow students would note, while Officer O'Eidhin seemed professional.
Following that, the wheelchair driver spoke up about guns and how he wanted to own one and how it was all wonderful, that everyone here seemed to be armed with firearms - while the ownership of daggers and similar weapons, including bows, was free in the Free Lands, to the point of it being safe to assume, that every Selkie had at least one dagger on his or her person, firearms were strictly and absolutely banned.
It made the streets safer, if one asked Ida, and statistics certainly proved her point.
While her reaction was not as strong as that of the reader, who asked (a bit meekly and afraid to her ears), whether or not gun ownership was a universal right and duty in Camelone, Ida left it at a silent groan and a complaining "Good grief..."
At least the reader, she did not know, that his name was Ansel De Lussan, but she thought, that he was well-dressed, had a good head on his shoulders.

[Lillorainen]

Frederik Leverdal had absolutely enjoyed the train ride. The 'monorail' had been silent and smooth - no comparison to the horribly noisy waggons down in the Lysköping Metro he had been used to; not to mention the obvious problem with the Lysköping train drivers who only knew either full steam ahead, or full brake. He had spent the entire ride looking out of the window and enjoying the beautiful landscapes of Camelone. His home state in Lillorainen basically was one metropolitan area with hardly anything green in between. Also, he enjoyed the clean smell - another thing he was not used to at all. Back home, everything used to smell like a mix of weed and rotten booze, especially in his home district of Hetager, a panel building disctrict where people used not to care a lot.
All those lads carrying a gun, however, did not surprise him at all - this also was not an unusual view in Lillorainen, where gun possession was hardly restricted. He had left his one home, though, to avoid trouble.
He was eighteen years old, blonde, blue-eyed and wearing a dark-blue, almost black cardigan and black pants.
When leaving the train at the station of Cullyburgh, he closely avoided running into a wheelchair driver maneuvering himself out in an amazing tempo. He explained in a notably accented English that carrying guns in public was the most normal thing in the world to do in his home country. For a moment, Frederik considered intervening that he indeed was from a country with lax gun laws too and was able to get his point, yes, but thought that you should always assimilate to foreign laws and morals whenever you go abroad; but he decided not to say anything about this. He was aware that Lillorainians often are described as a very straight and direct people, and he did not want to seem impolite.
"Hello there to you all" - he heard a young, really nice-looking woman speak up. She introcuded herself as Miss Neasa Monaghan. While listening to her, he checked whether his baggage was still complete. Fortunately, it was.

[Camelone]

Instead of Miss Neasa answering Officer Amariah took a few steps forward, hands still placed behind his back posture perfect and his voice demanding respect in a military fashion "Teasa are not trusted with advanced weaponry until they have proved their loyalty to the Crown and the Fatherland, if you were armed you would attract more attention than you would now. Not even the Phoenix Society will bother with you, it would only hurt their image." After addressing the Celari boy he turned towards the boy from Purgatio. "A large percentage of the population owns firearms yes, it is seen as a rite of passage for a young man to be able to field strip their firearm before their mandatory military service in the Royal Levy. In the cities sidearms are more prevalent with rifles and other long guns held in either the Borough Armory or the City Armory registered in accordance to their Levy number but out in the countryside every household has at least one rifle for militia service. Firearm ownership is a right derived directly from God, it is through logic that the right to own arms is arrived at for everyone has a right to self defense and the right to overthrow a tyrant for a tyrant blasphemes against God with improper actions. That is why Camelone has a high gun ownership rate."

Looking at all the students he gave a small smile "You all do not need to worry you are under the King's protection and there are very few people who want to challenge the king so directly and they are usually holed up in mountains far away from where we will be heading." With that bus pulled up, it was just a standard red tour bus with two Missus agents on board already.

"Well now come now everyone on board time to go to the hotel and put your bags down." Miss Neasa said taking over once more as Officer Amariah went over to talk with the driver.

[Great Nortend]

As they were boarding, William turned around, facing an older blond-haired lad behind him. (OOC: The Lillorainen student)

'Is it rather queer to you how really rather obsessed with firearms that bath-chair boy is?', said William. Whilst he had learnt how to use a rifle at school, and sometimes went with his father on shoots, he didn't consider them so worthy of discussion as to bring the topic up on one's very first interaction. Suddenly, he realised he hadn't introduced himself and ploughed on, not wishing to make a poor impression.

'Oh, I am sorry. My name's Arthur, but people call me William. How do you do?'

[Greater vakolicci haven]

"Ah."
The boy in the wheelchair turned his head to an older guy; who aside from his facial features looked entirely different. He had the build of a football linebacker for one, and if it wasn't for an intelligent glint in his eyes people would assume he was a thug. When he spoke, his voice as one would expect was somewhat deeper than the other boy's, his brothers.
"It is racism then I see. How very odd. A queer thing, racism, very difficult to support in logical arguments but also very difficult to destroy." He didn't seem to be talking to anyone; everyone heard it though.
"Appologies if my brother appears to like guns a little too much," he said in a slightly louder voice; evidently this voice was meant to sound like it was meant to be heard, unlike the other one which was likely meant as a stage whisper-type thing. "He has suffered gunshot wounds, so have I. Our city is distinctly crime-ridden; he who does not carry a gun has a tendency not to carry anything else for much longer. I'm Isaac, by the way; this is Leon."

Leon meanwhile didn't seem phased by the odd looks everyone was giving him and like the rest of the group simply moved over to the bus, transferring out of his wheelchair with some apparent difficulty especially when one shoulder began to move rather violently and on its own. He managed it however and on legs that really did not appear to want to walk managed to painfully and slowly make his way to the seat that was beside the boy who had been reading before, the first one who had spoken. He sat down, looking pleasantly at his neighbour who still appeared annoyed at his question; he sighed softly.
"Sorry if we got off on the wrong foot," he told him, putting out his hand, "I'm Leon, by the way...Leon Verina. What might I call you?"

[Uan aa Boa]

Daniel Tilese had sat impassively throughout the journey, silent but watchful. The tall young black man wore a shirt and trousers of khaki, smart but undoubtedly inspired by military fatigues in their design.

The chatter of his companions seemed strange to him. These people were so eager to speak despite seeming to have nothing significant to say. He watched the widespread bewilderment and incomprehension at the sound of spoken Gaelic and wondered why his fellow students hadn't troubled to take a language course before departure. Probably for the same reason they hadn't furnished themselves with basic information concerning Camelonean customs and society, leading to an increasingly agitated debate about gun ownership. Daniel had been a youth cadet and learned to fire, strip, clean and reassemble a rifle but it would never have occurred to him to want to own one. He couldn't imagine living day by day in a place where you feared for your life if you couldn't defend yourself, so he pushed the thought away.

Returning to the language, he let the strange, fluid vowels flow by and picked out what he could. He still couldn't grasp more than snatches of what native speakers said to each other, though on his first attempts he'd been able to make himself understood in simple matters.

As the disabled Vakolicci boy became more shrill on the subject of guns, Daniel focused on De Lussan, his body language and reactions, silently marking him as a hatespeaker and one to be watched.

[Purgatio]

Ansel nodded as he heard Officer Amariah's answer, and a lot of thoughts were immediately rushing through his head. He did not understand how firearms could be a "God given" right, or what God would want his followers to carry dangerous weapons in abundance, or why a society would consider it a "rite of passage" for their young men to acquire dangerous weapons to hurt each other or themselves, or why the Camelonian government would allow gun ownership knowing the people saw it as their duty to overthrow whoever they considered a "tyrant" with them, which can't be a formula for social stability, but he was not dumb enough to challenge the Officer on that, he just nodded politely, smiled and thanked her for answering his question.

As the train pulled up, Ansel gazed out the window at a red bus and smiled sweetly, putting his little blue book into a crumpler bag before getting off the train with the others. As they were waiting to board the bus, he found himself a seat in the corner, and started reading his book again, silently, when he saw the boy with the wheelchair, the one who had the contumelious audacity to ask for a gun, jerking on his wheelchair, and Ansel froze and tensed up at the sight, trying to breath deeply to calm himself down again. He gave the boy, Leon he said, a rather dirty look, before answering, "Ansel. Ansel De Lussan. From the Lussan household? Mother is Home Secretary." To most people that answer would have seemed excessive, but in a society rife with corruption like Purgatio it had become a force of habit for Ansel to drop both his family name and his mother's position in numerous contexts. "And saying we got off on the wrong foot..." Ansel stared at Leon's own foot as if gazing at some strange constellation and trying to understand it, "Is putting it mildly, don't you think? The students came here to be safe, not to get shot. Asking for a gun in front of everyone was rather irresponsible, I think. It doesn't matter how responsible with a gun you think you are, none of us know that for sure, we're all still strangers here and none of us know what you would do with a gun if Officer Amariah had given one to you." Ansel shrugged, his gaze getting slightly more vicious, "You could be a terrorist. I don't know." He phrased it as a question, but Ansel's tone made it crystal clear he wasn't asking or speculating, he was certain.

[The Selkie]

Instead of Miss Neasa answering Officer Amariah took a few steps forward, hands still placed behind his back posture perfect and his voice demanding respect in a military fashion "Teasa are not trusted with advanced weaponry until they have proved their loyalty to the Crown and the Fatherland, if you were armed you would attract more attention than you would now. Not even the Phoenix Society will bother with you, it would only hurt their image." After addressing the Celari boy he turned towards the boy from Purgatio. "A large percentage of the population owns firearms yes, it is seen as a rite of passage for a young man to be able to field strip their firearm before their mandatory military service in the Royal Levy. In the cities sidearms are more prevalent with rifles and other long guns held in either the Borough Armory or the City Armory registered in accordance to their Levy number but out in the countryside every household has at least one rifle for militia service. Firearm ownership is a right derived directly from God, it is through logic that the right to own arms is arrived at for everyone has a right to self defense and the right to overthrow a tyrant for a tyrant blasphemes against God with improper actions. That is why Camelone has a high gun ownership rate."

Looking at all the students he gave a small smile "You all do not need to worry you are under the King's protection and there are very few people who want to challenge the king so directly and they are usually holed up in mountains far away from where we will be heading." With that bus pulled up, it was just a standard red tour bus with two Missus agents on board already.

"Well now come now everyone on board time to go to the hotel and put your bags down." Miss Neasa said taking over once more as Officer Amariah went over to talk with the driver.

"Ah."
The boy in the wheelchair turned his head to an older guy; who aside from his facial features looked entirely different. He had the build of a football linebacker for one, and if it wasn't for an intelligent glint in his eyes people would assume he was a thug. When he spoke, his voice as one would expect was somewhat deeper than the other boy's, his brothers.
"It is racism then I see. How very odd. A queer thing, racism, very difficult to support in logical arguments but also very difficult to destroy." He didn't seem to be talking to anyone; everyone heard it though.
"Appologies if my brother appears to like guns a little too much," he said in a slightly louder voice; evidently this voice was meant to sound like it was meant to be heard, unlike the other one which was likely meant as a stage whisper-type thing. "He has suffered gunshot wounds, so have I. Our city is distinctly crime-ridden; he who does not carry a gun has a tendency not to carry anything else for much longer. I'm Isaac, by the way; this is Leon."

Leon meanwhile didn't seem phased by the odd looks everyone was giving him and like the rest of the group simply moved over to the bus, transferring out of his wheelchair with some apparent difficulty especially when one shoulder began to move rather violently and on its own. He managed it however and on legs that really did not appear to want to walk managed to painfully and slowly make his way to the seat that was beside the boy who had been reading before, the first one who had spoken. He sat down, looking pleasantly at his neighbour who still appeared annoyed at his question; he sighed softly.
"Sorry if we got off on the wrong foot," he told him, putting out his hand, "I'm Leon, by the way...Leon Verina. What might I call you?"

Ida watched passively, listened to the explanation of their gracious hosts, as well as the reply of the wheelchair-bound young man, Leon, as well as his older (she wanted to say) brother.
She heard the argument of "Without guns, we can't defend ourselves against tyrants and criminals!" often enough and if she was honest, she found no use in arguing against that - usually, people who resorted to such arguments tended to be dead-set in their argument and opinion so that a fruitful discussion quickly devolved into senseless fighting.
She did not make a further note on that topic in her notebook as it was publically available information.
As the bus pulled up, she grabbed her bag and her backpack, and stood in line to board, once again starting to offer help to Leon, but Isaac seemed to have that well in hand. He was quicker onboard then she would have estimated... and sat down right to the well-dressed reader. That would be fun, as the first snippets of conversation between Leon and, as he introduced himself, Ansel began to float through the bus.
She sat down in the middle of the bus, looking rather approachable if someone wanted to chat. Observation could wait until later.

[Greater vakolicci haven]

Leon nodded sympathetically, Ansel was obviously from a country where terrorism was very common; evidently he was as worried about everyone having a gun as Leon was himself worried about not having one himself; it was quite understandable.
"Sorry," he said, genuinely looking it, "But I'm not a terrorist, just to put your mind at ease. You see it's very violent where I come from; I'd never use a gun if it wasn't for my own protection as a last resort but it just makes me feel helpless, you know? But from what I saw reading up about this place you don't have much to fear from terrorism; but I get that if your mother is the home secretary you've probably been taught to be a bit paranoid, yes?"

Leon reached around to the side, where his rucksack was attatched to the handle of his wheelchair which Isaac had managed to find a place to stow; he found he couldn't reach it, and from the way his choulder was twitching trying much further was going to prove a very bad idea if he didn't want upper body spasms; his brother noticing what he was trying to achieve plonked the bag in front of him. "Thanks," Leon muttered, pulling out a 6-pack of cokes and opening one.
"Take one if you want," he told Ansel, proffering the package, "You seem thirsty."

[Purgatio]

How stupid did this terrorist think he was, Ansel thought to himself. Well, if he wanted to poison him, he had to do a better job than putting the cyanid in bottles of coke, as Ansel mustered up a nice smile and shook his head, "Its...its fine, I'm not thirsty." He said, as he continued, "I'm not paranoid, and neither is my mother. We're just realistic. Purgatio has dealt with terrorism from the so-called Genetic Equality Movement and from its members, and they are our only obstacle to building our society, a perfect and flawless society. Maybe that means I'm smart enough to keep my eyes open for....possible threats." He said, "I don't think that's paranoia. I think that's just being smart."

[Greater vakolicci haven]

"Suit yourself," Ansel drank deeply. "I'm not familiar with your nation or the genetic equality movement," he confessed, "Is it some sort of race regulations organisation?"
Another thought crossed his mind; did Ansel think he was a terrorist because of his disability? "If it helps," he told him, "I hear that terrorist organisations have very strict rules and regs on who can join. Oddly enough, since on a good day I can maybe walk about 20 metres without having one or both of my legs fuck on me...I doubt I make the cut."

[Purgatio]

"Don't put yourself down" Ansel said, with a rather sly smile, he did not mean it as a compliment, "You can still do many things if not fight on the ground. You could help a terrorist organisation with logistics, hacking into government servers, selling drugs and arms to fuel your operations or recruitment and advertising." Ansel cocked his head to the side, "But you already knew all of that, didn't you?"

[Greater vakolicci haven]

"I mean I could do that," Leon laughed, "If I wanted to I guess. But equally," he smiled slyly "If I'm the behind the scenes terrorist, I'm not a threat to you am I? And well...you don't look particularly strong or muscular, but I think you might be able to take me in a fight."

Leon got out his phone and unlocked it.
"We have detected you are browsing from a location with a poor internet freedom record. Would you like to connect to your closest FREE the WEB server?" Leon clicked yes instinctively before checking his facebook, turning his head to tell Ansel "By the way, they regulate the internet here. Might want to download some sort of vpn app on your phone. If you give me your number I'll send you a link."

[Purgatio]

"Are...are you kidding right now? How am I supposed to think you are not a terrorist when you say things like that?" Ansel asked, an eyebrow raised, "If the Camelonian Government saw fit to ban certain websites, then its probably because the authorities here recognise those websites are a threat to social harmony. If so, I think I'm better off not accessing them, if you don't mind. And you shouldn't either."

[Greater vakolicci haven]

"They're Christians," Leon scoffed, "They're probably like gambling or porno websites. Websites encouraging great sins, you know?"
He sat back, seeming to enjoy doing so; clearly something which he expected to happen wasn't happening. This was made quite clear when his whole upper body jerked forward violently; instinctively Leon grabbed the seat in front of him with one hand and the back of Ansel's seat with the other, bracing himself.
"Sorry about that," he grunted, clearly in some pain, "It does that from time to time. That's why I strap myself to my chair so tightly, so it literally can't do it."

[Purgatio]

"Arghh!" Ansel screamed as he scrambled his body against the window, as far from Leon as possible as his body jerked back and forth, "What...what the hell are you doing??" He said angrily, his eyes filled with a mixture of both rage and fear, as Leon's body stopped moving Ansel slowly calmed himself down with long and deep breaths, sighing, "I have no clue what you just did, but don't do it again."

[Greater vakolicci haven]

"Sorry I can't promise that," he said sadly, "Unfortunately my upper body jerks sometimes. Not often but when it does I know about it; just means I fall out of bed a lot and yeah...occasionally do that. I've got like a harness thing that holds it back because thankfully the jerks aren't so powerful that trying for cars and busses to hold them back would break my ribs, but it's in one of the bags and I can't be fucked getting Isaac to go searching for it.

[Purgatio]

Ansel sighed in anger, snarling and thinking this was why his country took the very actions they did, so none of its citizens would be forced to suffer like Leon was suffering right now, it made him sick to his stomach to think of it, and he was not afraid to vocalise it, "Did your parents know, before you were born, that you would have to suffer like this?" He asked, because he could not comprehend why a parent would allow a child to suffer in pain for their entire life in this way, forced to jerk back and forth against their will, periodically and repeatedly.

[Greater vakolicci haven]

"No idea," Leon told him very honestly. His province was one of the few to allow abortions, although he doubted very much his parents had even got the checks performed. "But I'd rather not be dead, if I'm honest with you. Think of all the things I couldn't do if he was dead...couldn't sing, couldn't drink, couldn't have sex...yeah, I prefer alive if I'm honest with you. Guessing you'd prefer if I'd not been born?"

[Purgatio]

"You wouldn't know if you were dead, isn't that the whole point?" Ansel said, visibly uncomfortable with the conversation, "And I wouldn't quite put it so crudely. I'd have preferred for your parents to do the right thing. The responsible thing. Its rather sad that they didn't."

[Greater vakolicci haven]

"Well I'm quite happy they did what I think is the right thing," Leon said, some anger entering his voice. Was his moron seriously saying that he wished he'd been aborted? Leon hadn't yet met somebody who was quite that intollerent; however he guessed that he couldn't complain; after all he had only come on this exchange to experience foreign cultures, right? Being a dick to disabled people was clearly part of this guys culture, as much as good music was a part of his.
"If I was dead I couldn't, for example, go into politics which is my ambition," he continued. "So I think it'd be a net loss to the world if I'd been aborted, much as it'd probably be a net loss to the world if you'd been aborted. I could never have it done to a child of mine, it'd be the sort of thing that'd be relationship-ending if my future wife decided to have one."