Chimera Fields You know me as the girl who plays with fire

simmik liked the song, which was good because mathieu didn't really have a recovery planned if she didn't. he laughed under his breath, hoping that she wouldn't notice the shakiness caused by lingering nerves. i don't know, matty replied with a shrug, can't let everyone know my secret.

the language was one of three spoken by all of his relatives. though it was mathieu's least favorite, simmik was right to call it pretty. my great-grandmother spoke that language. they say she brought it from somewhere much warmer than this. he puffed a plume of air, accented with a small grin.

her husband, my great-grandfather, he brought his own language from the north. c'est comme çi, mathieu explained, that's the story, anyway. but all of my relatives know their languages, so there must be some truth to it. it's like the st. clair calling card; spots and useless knowledge. 

he wondered if mal had ever been taught the consortium tongues. did he care to learn now? mathieu imagined his half-brother visiting their family at home and struggling through the language barrier, undoubtedly being teased through his stay. do you know any languages? he asked, not wanting to steal the attention.