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[cockade]

How many of you have your own language from home?

[There is a very distinct pause as Arno realizes that question may need to be clarified.]

By language, I mean something that is unique to your country or culture. For example, I'm from France and our language is French- but if you go to our neighboring country Spain, they speak Spanish instead. Italy has Italian. Britain has English.

Hilariously enough, if you gathered a Frenchman and a Spaniard together, they would be able to hold a somewhat decent conversation in their own languages because they're similar. [There's a bit of a pause as he says "somewhat," because he's pretty sure he wouldn't completely understand Spanish unless given some time to really digest it.] I'm not exactly sure they'd understand everything, but the basics would be covered rather well.

I suppose I'm asking mostly because there's so many of us, and so there's bound to be similarities and differences. Even across worlds. It would be interesting to talk about it, and possibly teach others if they're wanting to learn as well.

[Because almost anything is better than thinking about their current situation or about the Savrii, in his opinion.]

Comments

[cadeuces]

[ She's clearly muffling a little huff of laughter with his attempt, but she's being polite!!! ]

Perhaps ​Zürichdeutsch will be a little easier? But I think that encompasses the differences quite well, no? The first was Swiss-German, and the second is simply German. It's the specific dialect around the city of Zürich, which is closest to Germany. That is most of what you'll find through the country, but the further west you go, closer to France? Then you delve into français de Suisse— sound a little more familiar? Though I'm afraid my French accent isn't terribly passable.

[ The ties to Gaelic explain his passable attempt, at least, as Gaelic is a far more difficult language to master— but wards and magic...? ]

I feel as though I've heard that before, this Drabwurld. I wasn't aware you practiced magic, Arno. Is that a skill you've retained?

[cockade]

[He can't help but let out a bit of a snort at that, though it's not in offense at anything. It's more of an agreement with nothing in particular.]

Yes, Zürichdeutsch is a little easier. [Now with less butchering!] Though I'm sure having an exchange between French and German is certain to cause either some laughter or some raised eyebrows. Maybe both.

I could teach you if you'd like, Angela. I'm certain my accent ruins anything German, in comparison.

[He pauses at that, obviously thinking on how to word himself.]

I might have mentioned it previously- Allad Daraich is its true name. And I... partially practiced. It was more to place wards and keep places safe during the war there. [A beat.] I doubt I could do the same here- as much as I want to, at least. I have an entire book full of what I was taught, but haven't practiced since my arrival. I'm not even certain that magic would work. There is no such thing as being a shardbearer on the Moira, it would seem.

[cadeuces]

Much better.

[ He does well with it, certainly, and the fondness in her tone says as much. ]

I'll gladly take you up on the offer. We shall be one another's tutors in private then, where no one can laugh; I'll place my accent in your capable hands and trust you'll refrain from being too harsh. I have such delicate sensibilities, after all.

[ That is a flat-out lie coming from a surgeon but she'll always tease him a little knowing that he will give as good as he gets, naturally. ]

Allad Daraich... it's Gaelic as you'd said, no? I don't believe you have; I may've simply heard something similar over the network once. It's difficult to say. Such abilities sound as though they'd be useful. It wasn't something you learned from home?

What was a shardbearer?

[ SHE HAS SO MANY QUESTIONS... SORRY ARNO. ]

[cockade]

[Any kind of approval, especially from those he enjoys speaking and spending time with, is something he truly loves. He can't help but chuckle as she speaks about being private tutors.]

I'll be certain to be careful, so long as you promise to not bruise my ego- you know how we French can be when we're told we're wrong. [And it's an effortless tease right back at her, none for the worse.]

Perhaps. I haven't met anyone yet who says they're from there- but I haven't been constantly searching for it. [He pauses.] No, France was relatively normal for me; there was no magic or anything out of the ordinary for our time. I didn't even know what a ward was before being taken.

[QUESTIONS ARE OKAY HE EXPECTS THEM A LOT.] A shardbearer was anyone who didn't belong in the Drabwurld; essentially, they were someone who was called to aid the war from another world entirely. Each of us had a shard that was our connection to our world- and if it was lost, you no longer could return home once the war was over.

It was complicated and the war was incredibly black and white. If you weren't claimed by the Seelie you were an Unseelie, and if you weren't claimed by the Unseelie then you belonged to the Seelie. There was no in-between. [He pauses.] Both were at war, and if you didn't oppose the other side, you were a traitor, regardless if you had friends or family on the other side.

[Such was the case for him, and many other people he knew on both sides. There was no third way, and so they fought for one instead.]

[cadeuces]

Oh, there's nothing wrong with a bit of pride provided you know when to accept constructive criticism. I'll be gentle.

[ The smile is in her tone, and he can probably imagine the playful crinkle of her nose accompanying it; this back and forth has always been her favorite, and she's glad to have settled into it with Arno. He's a sweet man.

Angela listens to his explanation with a few well-placed prompting hums, acknowledging that she's following along. ]

Well, we have that in common once again. [ The lack of magic, that is. (Well... mostly. Who fuckin knows how to describe the Shimada dragons.) There's the sound of her settling in, the creak of a rolling stool at work and the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of porcelain resting on porcelain, her coffee mug on a coaster. ] A faerie world...? My, you have led an interesting life thus far, haven't you Arno? Those from other worlds, as we are here, didn't rally together? I don't think I've ever heard of a war so cut and dry.

[cockade]

I'll place my trust in you, then. I'll be sure not to try and take anything you say too offensively.

[He's chuckling on his own end. He's missed this kind of banter, honestly. It reminds him of Katsa and Nasrin.]

I suppose that's one way of putting it, though it's certainly not by choice. [There's a pause.] It was, but not everyone simply chose the side they were taken to. Some defected, others openly betrayed, and there was a group of others who tried to find a third way- one where both sides would be able to work together and all worlds would be saved in the process. When the time came where the world was ending, we all cast our wishes into the gem that was the lifestream of the Drabwurld, and as an answer, it sent us back in time to prevent the collapsing of the courts and the problem of the incoming Void.

[cadeuces]

[ Her laugh is enough to close the topic of languages and their easy raillery, shaking her head as she slowly sobers, focusing on the followup and the details he's giving her. It takes a moment to shift gears like this, but she's thankful for the chance to know. Understand where he's been, where he came from. What he's been through. ]

I see. That sounds like a difficult, if fantastical, battle. You've always struck me as someone very durable, however. You adapt well. I'm glad that you were able to find your way out the other side unharmed. Was there anyone important there, with you? Who you'd known from home.

[cockade]

[He laughs, but listens still to what she says. Talking about the Drabwurld isn't difficult- but it's become almost like a second home, and he misses it and the friends he made there, if only because he had a sense of belonging he has yet to truly secure with the crew of the Moira.]

You flatter me, Angela. I've done what I could, considering the circumstances. Back home at least prepared me to work with what I had. [He pauses, but when he starts up again, his tone is noticeably cheerier than before.]

There was- a friend of mine. Her name is Élise. She and I were there in the Drabwurld for two years, and caught up in the war together. [Is that the sound of him clearing his throat quietly to make sure he doesn't sound a little too willing to talk about her? Of course not, you're imagining things.] Unfortunately, I don't know if she's still back in the Drabwurld, or if she's back home in Paris. I haven't exactly had a way to reach her.

[cadeuces]

[ Angela's had little enough reason to believe Arno was a fighter, but she still gets the impression in bits and pieces— the way he moved, the way he watched others, perhaps. It was very analytical and careful, and he always had a grasp on what his body was doing. His spatial awareness was sharp. His statement only goes to prove that. ]

Not at all. I'm easy-going, I'll give anyone that, but I don't hand out opinions so easily. They're serious business, you know. For a physician.

[ A wink, for that, but mostly because he mentions— a "friend". Right. ]

And this friend. [ She imagined nothing. ] She must be quite beautiful. And feisty, to keep up with you.

I can see how that'd be worrisome though; I've found myself wondering much the same. I hope she's well. Your 'friend'.