“O-oh, right,” Yanagi said quietly, feeling embarrassed for mispronouncing the woman’s name. It was hard, sometimes, especially with names. She could practice unusual words over and over and listen to them so she could better approximate them, but names were a category unto themselves. And Americans seemed so fond of odd and unique names. Those strange names were one of the reasons she usually let other people do introductions. Then she wouldn’t have to make mistakes.
She brightened a bit, her shoulders straightening, when Dhivael recognized she was Japanese. Sort of. On a technicality. But that was alright. “Yes, I am,” she replied. Briefly, she entertained the notion that Dhivael was one of those rabid anime fans, but she dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it formed. If Dhivael had been an anime fan, she would have already gushed as many mispronounced, poorly appropriated words as she knew. She would have asked if Yanagi, being Japanese, was as in love with anime as she was. It was a terrible thought to have, mostly because it supposed anime fans were rabid and rude, but it had happened before. The only reason Yanagi watched anything from Japan was to keep up with the minute changes in language over time, but even so she had trouble with some of the newer phrases and acceptable grammatical structures. They just didn’t make sense.
“Thank you,” Yanagi said as she slipped out the door. She paused just outside the dorm and when Dhivael joined her began the short walk back to her own dorm. “My other boxes aren’t as heavy as that one, so we shouldn’t have to make many trips.” Possibly only this one, but she didn’t say that because she didn’t want to make any assumptions about Dhivael’s strength. “Ah, if you don’t mind my asking…” She hesitated, not wanting to appear rude, and did her best to look everywhere except at Dhivael. “What kind of creature are you?” She rustled her wings. “It’s obvious I’m an angel, but I’ve realized most creatures are more… subtle.” Once, she had hid her wings behind cheap magic from witches and priestesses. Since coming to Alden, she didn’t feel that same pressing need.
In fact, in many ways, Alden was liberating. It was forcing her to do things and say things and be places that she would never go on her own power. The previous year, one of her anthropology classes had taken a trip to the museum of natural history in Cambridge, right outside of Boston, and it had been horrifying. At least, at first. Being surrounded by so many people was suffocating and oppressive, but once in the museum, she found that it was almost enjoyable. She had gotten wrapped up in people watching and in the exhibits, and by the time the trip was over, she was pleasantly exhausted.
She had liked it.
“What’s your major, by the way?” she asked as they started across the street to her old dorm building, hoping she wasn’t prying too much. “Is this your first year here?”