Gilded Bay timshel

A brow raised sharply on already sharp features as he was greeted with gol domora instead of some babble in common tongue. He had not expected to run into anyone like him or someone who could so fluently speak in his native language. Zosar should have been kind and answered the stranger's questions first but the dryness of his throat from all the harsh environments he roamed prompted him to greedily lap at the water he had been offered.

Only once he felt bloated from drinking so much did he lift his head to speak. Jullundhar. No. Quick answers as he licked the droplets from his lips and chin. What of you? So fluent and — is someone with you? Did he have an akal perhaps?