Wapun Meadow When different languages meet

"Si mi thric silit." Came her swift reply. Aheshi did not know how successful her lies had been, and for a moment she wondered. Perhaps this girl was toying with her? Pushing buttons in an attempt to outmatch her wits. But Zhavvi was young, she was inexperienced. The daughter of a khal, but that did not immediately mean anything. Only that the blood of a brutal man flowed within her veins; that same blood which Aheshi wished so eagerly to spill.

She smiled - a tight-lipped expression that betrayed a certain level of impatience - and turned her attention away from the girl. At least, she looked away; the rest of her was still paying rapt attention. "Shar si mi davra ekess jacion, lae tikil Dothar ui davra ekess asta Khal." As she spoke, Aheshi traced a spiral in to the dirt with one of her paws, showing off a bit of her boredom. 

At the last moment, she dragged the heel of her paw across the figure and obscured it back to nothing, and then looked up to Zhavvi. "Tir wux tuor ekess onquothat?"