ai don fis disha spichen gona op

Oh, nice!  I'll have to investigate that, I enjoy bastardized languages, seeing how I tend to bastardize English just fine on my own lmfao.

Her nod was enough to affirm that she was in fact homeless but Echelon sensed that she would have more to say.  And on the heels of a strong gust of wind, those words came.  Easy questions to answer but she was left to consider them briefly.  She did not see Tartok as a charity case, or even at the very least running a halfway house for the banged up and retired wayfarers.  But at the same time, she felt that it was not entirely her decision to make.  Tonravik did the recruiting, Echelon stayed firmly out of it.


Still, she could not help but give the dark-haired foreigner a decent once-over.  It was an open study, one that followed the swift raise of her head.  "We may, perhaps," she said stilted-like.  "Are you capable of fighting?  Of not wavering?"  She was no recruiter, yet the questions came to her steadily.  She had seen Tonravik do it time and time again, just as she had seen Siku do it before her in her youth.  A youth that for the most part, Echelon had yet to let go even in light of her coming into maturity.

There was potential yet in what she saw in Emori, something that could have been built up and tempered to their will.  She placed the female under her consideration all the same, though the urge to drive her away lingered like a caged beast in the darkness of her gaze.