The waterwitch felt her brow furrow at the sudden shift in the rusted silver's demeanor, pulling back half a step uncertainly as her bicolored optics flickered over his features in search of clues. The blonde shifted her weight between tiny white paws, agitated at the thought of provoking him.
"Um..hello?" He reiterated in tight tones of concern as his gilded gaze pinched with alarm, much like her own had at the inexplicable change in ambiance. "- you okay?"
These words Imaq knew, and it was quite clear he could not speak her family's language, so the aureate wildling bobbed her creamy crown in affirmation and allowed a reassuring smile to spread across her lips warmly like a spill of slow honey.
"Eh..'ello," she tried again in the common tongue with a nervous dip of her head, like a little golden bird -- her words warbling with clumsiness and thickly accented, as if the raspy sounds came from deep in her throat. "All vell," was how the shaman answered his question, lacking grace or poise in this dialect.
"Imaq not..." what was the word? "..talk vell."
"I come from far to the north, from over the ice seas. I lived on a huge island there called Kalaallit Nunaat. We speak Kalaallit tongue there," the flaxen fae switched back to her own language as she tried to explain, unable to relay her thoughts in his and hoping to make him understand that she could not speak it by weaving together a few more lyrical sentences for the male to dissect.
Seelie's 'cracked', tropical gaze darted over his dovedown countenance before falling to rest neatly upon the creek gravel shores stretching between them, half afraid he wouldn't understand at all.
"Um..hello?" He reiterated in tight tones of concern as his gilded gaze pinched with alarm, much like her own had at the inexplicable change in ambiance. "- you okay?"
These words Imaq knew, and it was quite clear he could not speak her family's language, so the aureate wildling bobbed her creamy crown in affirmation and allowed a reassuring smile to spread across her lips warmly like a spill of slow honey.
"Eh..'ello," she tried again in the common tongue with a nervous dip of her head, like a little golden bird -- her words warbling with clumsiness and thickly accented, as if the raspy sounds came from deep in her throat. "All vell," was how the shaman answered his question, lacking grace or poise in this dialect.
"Imaq not..." what was the word? "..talk vell."
"I come from far to the north, from over the ice seas. I lived on a huge island there called Kalaallit Nunaat. We speak Kalaallit tongue there," the flaxen fae switched back to her own language as she tried to explain, unable to relay her thoughts in his and hoping to make him understand that she could not speak it by weaving together a few more lyrical sentences for the male to dissect.
Seelie's 'cracked', tropical gaze darted over his dovedown countenance before falling to rest neatly upon the creek gravel shores stretching between them, half afraid he wouldn't understand at all.
"...and all around was the bitter arctic cold and the immense silence of the North..."
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Messages In This Thread
belongs to the sand - by Imaq - January 21, 2021, 06:12 AM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Rowan - January 21, 2021, 04:29 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Imaq - January 21, 2021, 05:42 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Rowan - January 23, 2021, 03:18 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Imaq - January 23, 2021, 10:15 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Rowan - January 24, 2021, 03:55 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Imaq - January 25, 2021, 08:09 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Rowan - January 27, 2021, 05:37 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Imaq - January 27, 2021, 09:30 PM
RE: belongs to the sand - by Rowan - January 31, 2021, 06:10 PM