04-26-2025, 02:00 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-26-2025, 02:19 PM by Morad Ameen.)
"I - I don't even know what questions to ask," Amalia admitted, "Or where to start I mean. Where are we? I guess is as good as a place as any. And maybe what do we do first?"
As she walked closer to him, Morad felt a warmth spread through his chest, a satisfaction deeper than simply executing a successful plan.
"Welcome to ancient Syria. My homeland." He said as he stepped closed to her in turn and took her hand in his.
"The city of Ugarit was one of the great crossroads of the Bronze Age," he began, finding his footing as he stepped onto the simulated packed earth street beside her. He kept his tone light, conversational, not wanting it to feel like a lecture. "A major trade hub. But more importantly," he pointed towards a slightly larger, more complex building down one of the narrow lanes, "it's where they developed one of my planet's earliest alphabetic writing systems – the Ugaritic script. It changed everything."
They walked slowly through the simulation, Morad pointing out areas reconstructed to represent the royal palace, temples, and residential quarters. To him, it seemed like Amila absorbed it all, as he gave insights about the society, the materials science evident in the construction, the possible astronomical alignments of certain structures. He was courting her intelligence and scientific curiosity and enjoying her genuine interest. He found himself speaking more freely than usual about the history, about the echoes of this ancient culture he felt connected to through his Syrian heritage. This was a piece of himself. His pride.
Moving on to phase two..
After exploring the historical site, Morad paused near a simulated stone archway. "I thought we could continue the theme, perhaps with refreshments?"
He activated a subroutine. The ancient stones around them seemed to shimmer and resolve, the dusty air clearing, replaced by the fresh, salty tang of the Mediterranean Sea at twilight. They now stood on the threshold of a simulated beachfront restaurant terrace, overlooking gentle waves lapping onto a sandy shore under a sky painted with the oranges and purples of sunset. The city lights of modern Latakia twinkled comfortably in the distance.
"A taste of the coast, near where Ugarit once thrived." He said.
I hope you are hungry...
He led her to a table near the edge of the terrace. The replicated food arrived shortly after – small local cuisine plates perfect for sharing. There was Kibbeh, fragrant with spices; a vibrant Fattoush salad; perfectly stuffed Mahshi; and warm flatbread. Morad watched Amila's reaction as she tentatively tried each one.
== Tag ==
As she walked closer to him, Morad felt a warmth spread through his chest, a satisfaction deeper than simply executing a successful plan.
"Welcome to ancient Syria. My homeland." He said as he stepped closed to her in turn and took her hand in his.
"The city of Ugarit was one of the great crossroads of the Bronze Age," he began, finding his footing as he stepped onto the simulated packed earth street beside her. He kept his tone light, conversational, not wanting it to feel like a lecture. "A major trade hub. But more importantly," he pointed towards a slightly larger, more complex building down one of the narrow lanes, "it's where they developed one of my planet's earliest alphabetic writing systems – the Ugaritic script. It changed everything."
They walked slowly through the simulation, Morad pointing out areas reconstructed to represent the royal palace, temples, and residential quarters. To him, it seemed like Amila absorbed it all, as he gave insights about the society, the materials science evident in the construction, the possible astronomical alignments of certain structures. He was courting her intelligence and scientific curiosity and enjoying her genuine interest. He found himself speaking more freely than usual about the history, about the echoes of this ancient culture he felt connected to through his Syrian heritage. This was a piece of himself. His pride.
Moving on to phase two..
After exploring the historical site, Morad paused near a simulated stone archway. "I thought we could continue the theme, perhaps with refreshments?"
He activated a subroutine. The ancient stones around them seemed to shimmer and resolve, the dusty air clearing, replaced by the fresh, salty tang of the Mediterranean Sea at twilight. They now stood on the threshold of a simulated beachfront restaurant terrace, overlooking gentle waves lapping onto a sandy shore under a sky painted with the oranges and purples of sunset. The city lights of modern Latakia twinkled comfortably in the distance.
"A taste of the coast, near where Ugarit once thrived." He said.
I hope you are hungry...
He led her to a table near the edge of the terrace. The replicated food arrived shortly after – small local cuisine plates perfect for sharing. There was Kibbeh, fragrant with spices; a vibrant Fattoush salad; perfectly stuffed Mahshi; and warm flatbread. Morad watched Amila's reaction as she tentatively tried each one.
== Tag ==