Hushed Willows diamond child [festival]

To this day, Isleña did not understand why wolves did not amend their way of speaking for her level of fluency. Sure, she understood more than she could speak, but that did not mean fully-fledged sentence suddenly became a part of her understanding. She appreciated that others wanted to talk to her — for she would be so lonely without wolves willing to bridge those gaps — but it only seemed fitting that they should simplify their word choices and slow down their tenor so that she might have a small chance at an actual conversation. 

For this reason, Isleña simply smiled at the flirtatious man as he spouted off so many words and tried not to squander her good mood.  Men were stupid, and often needed a little guidance in order to give her all the things she wanted, and certainly this man was no different. “Am sorry — talk more slow, for please?” From experience, the bedouin knew that if she asked for something, she usually got it, so Isleña turned to what she assumed he was asking about: the festivities which went on all around them.  “Want friend, make party,” she explained inanely, hoping it made some sort of sense as a response to what he said. He was certainly cute, and she did not was to turn him off simply because she couldn’t understand. Somehow, she felt that responsibility fell to her; a shift from how she had felt moments prior.

“Talk and more talk,” she suggested, letting him know that this was a good thing, despite how she struggled. Hopefully the man, as nameless to her as he might ever be, didn’t mind.