Hideaway Strath thirty-six flowers

satsu smiles, drawing an even breath that fills her lungs with floral notes.
she looks a little sheepish. i do not know what it is called. it is the language of my people, it is very old.
on the topic of languages satsu wonders to herself, then expresses a thought: you do not sound like the others. i wonder, did you come from somewhere else? this place is home to so many different people - the awed sound of satsu's voice tapered to silence, all eyes on aerin.