Perhaps the seaside view hadn't been necessary. 

Somebody, once, had told him that in fact, one only benefitted from the seaside when close enough to the waves to feel their freshness against the feet, to breathe in the salt, and have the ears filled overwhelmed with the sound of the waves. The sea only helped when it was almost a threat.

Koenraad was not in the position to actually experience that himself, not today, so instead he fantasized about it, looking outside the window from his bed. The water seemed more grey than blue today, but there was beauty even in that. Colour had the chance to come true much better when there was such a scarcity. Koenraad found himself liking it almost as much as he had liked the overabundance of the desert. He sighed and turned to Ramses, sitting nearby. 

That desaturated space really contrasted with him, not only superficially, his colouring definitely closer to that of the desert rather than the cold, English beach, but also in spirit: Koenraad thought of his presence like a gentle and constant sort of warmth, nothing to share with the English summer, where comfort was never to be counted on. And yet, this was also his land. Koenraad did wonder how the connection worked here. He had learnt that no place in the world was more home to Ramses than an excavation site or a library, but that didn't have to mean he felt no love or connection to this place. "Have you been to this part of the country before?" he inquired. The island was not one and all and they had so often talked about their trip to Whitby only as "going to England." Now that they were there, he supposed, they ought to be more specific.

"I had thought the sea here would resemble the sea in Belgium, but it isn't quite the same. It looks cooler, but also wilder. I wonder if it will look like this for the rest of the summer."

Koenraad was lying down and he had the feeling it was harder to hear him because of that, so he made an effort to make his voice louder, but it cracked a little because of his slightly dry throat. The room wasn't big and the ceiling was somewhat low for his taste, but his window on the sea was large and the fair wood bed felt sturdy and comfortable, though it was too large for him. Koenraad was a very, very tall man so they had to arrange something long enough to fit him,  which in turn turned out to be wide enough for two more people. It made him look thinner and whiter than he already was. Two days prior, he had had a bout of convulsions and Ramses had to make the necessary arrangements to finish arranging the house for them both while he slept in a half-finished bedroom, tormented by a fever that, while exhausting, wasn't life-threatening. Or so had the doctor said. Koenraad was wearing only his night attire -it was too hot for a dressing-gown- and his white clothes made him look even paler. It was no news, Koenraad had always been a rather pale man, but the traces of sun of the Mediterranean were slowly disappearing, draining some additional red from his face that had been almost omnipresent throughout the last few years.

Ramses looked up from his book to gaze his eyes out at the window as if he needed to actually see the landscape to know if he had been to this part of the country before when in reality he did not. He had not been to this part of the country before and said so with a “No I have not but I heard that their have been peculiar things found on the beach” 

The Egyptian turned his gaze and head back toward the Belgian, listening to him thoughtfully as he explained the differences between his expectations and reality. In his deadpan manner Ramses attempted at a little bit of humor. “It is probably wilder here because we are closer to Scotland and you know those scottish men love to prance around with undergarments in skirts” Ah yes Ramses mixture of deadpan sarcasm was what made Ramses ramses as he placed the book on the edge of the bed and scooted it toward Koern. 

“Did you know the author of this book is in Whitby? A hawaiian noble named Lailani McWhatever or another the point is here work while amateurish does seem to be very original in nature”  he said tapping the book that contained the interviews of sex workers from the woman’s travels.

"Oh?" he inquired, as something odd on the beach was mentioned, tying to guess if it was something ancient and not better identified. Ramses liked nothing better, he knew as much.

Koenraad giggled a little, his eyes squinting to do the smiling he wasn't managing so well "I heard of that. I have also been told it used to be very fashionable about the well born. Some historical fashion revival or something. I wonder if there are some going around," Koerd commented, looking back at the window and then Ramses. He was good enough at guessing when Ramses meant to joke, even if he was terribly deadpan.

Koerd pushed himself up a little to check the book. He squinted and observed it "Is it like a travel book? Sometimes I think you should write one of those. I reckon you have talent for chronicles," Koenraad observe the book. Shall he ask Ramses to lend it to him? He was probably still going to have to spend some time in b after all.

”Yes, I think I heard something about treasure but then again that could be the whimsical desires of a hopeful locals” Ramses stated with a shrug in regards to what he knew about the so called treasure or what not found on the beach or coast. Besides.. treasure usually meant stolen items from far away lands usually but not always melted down. 

None the less the consideration stayed in the mans mind as he looked over with amusement at Koerd’s squinting eyes. Ramses was not the best when it came to smiling, he could do it for sure but the ease at which it came to the Egyptian was as awkward as the rest of Ramses. Watching Koerd struggle at the action both put Ramses at ease and made the corners of his mouth twitch in a strain to smile that was so brief it might have been mistaken for a mirage. 

“Its less about travel I suppose and more focused on the question of why prostitutes do what they do. The focus is on getting their interviewed answers from around the world which.. I think this woman has done a fairly good job at.” Ramses moved his hand a little bit as he spoke, a habit he allowed himself when around company that he felt comfortable around such as Koerd. “She does not seem to hoist judgment on those she interviewed which allows for a neutral presentation the study.” He said not even digesting what Koerd had said about him writing a novel until a moment later. 

His brows scrunched together in thought. “I could write more.. but sometimes I wonder if the things I write would not just get misrepresented by the dominant society… or.. “ He said biting his lower lip and shifting his gaze from the bed sheets to Koerd. “Simply be ignored because it is not understood”

“Koerd do you… do you…” Ramses appeared to be choosing his words carefully and struggling with formulating his question as his fingers tapped the bed post. “Do you ever have dreams that feel better then the here and now to the point that you wonder whether your really awake or simply living a nightmare that can be solved by truly waking up with death?” He asked with that silently suffering expression that seemed to always follow Ramses as he mentally waved away the inner thoughts and feelings that haunted him. Ramses looked at Koerd indirectly focusing on the mans clothing rather then the mans eyes, Ramses eyes were tired.

"Isn' that what they say all the time about Egypt too, when in reality most of it it's precious only because so ancient?" Koerd tried to make the conversation a little bit light. "It is odd this hasn't attracted certain types of characters…" he observed, a little bit pessimistic. Koerd was often a little bit pessimistic.

When he had first met Ramses, Koerd would not have recognised that expression for what it was, but he could now. Anything that distracted focused and contemplative Ramses to bring his attention back to the physical world and even bring him to react ought to be considered meaningful, because the man was generally concerned with much grander things. Koerd was honoured to be counted among this. Never mind that it had taken malaria for it to be the case. Now, he was being unjust, Ramses had always been a good friend and Koerd ought to be grateful for it. Really, his lot in life wasn't bad at all.

Koerd shrugged "Why do most people do what they do? To survive, I suppose. Most of our time is spent doing that, isn't it? Though some are trying to make grander things survive, some are merely concerned with their physical body. Sometimes, that is how it should be," Koerd answered, his tone controlled and understated as usual. "Understated" could, in fact, be his middlename. "I appreciate the lack of judgement. Perhaps it will be a good read for me. Do you admire her neutrality?"

Koenraad understood what Ramses meant. His lips pressed together. Somehow, he felt like most of the energy he had right now ought to be put in his next answer. He took a deep breath and then tried to suggest "Sometimes treasures are buried quicker than they ought to be so they can survive. But if they were never created they could not be found," he theorised.

While his business associate looked away, Koenraad looked at him directly and tried to figure out what he meant really. His first answer was rathe deadpan "No. My faith promises nothing of the kind after death, so I do… tell myself something better will be there for me. My "better" must be here," he tried to say. He bit his lip "But I do, sometimes, wish things could just turn into a different direction. What dream are you hoping to get back to?" he said that gently, his breathing now slowed down.