language
De Tearion: Eyes narrow in concentration, and he mimics what Sam said in Dark Fae. He reverts to Common again. Somewhat ease. ‘Tis deciphering the words that can be tricky.
Sam: Stunned, then grins and starts speaking Primordial, her native language But, how well do you do with languages like Primordial?
language
De Tearion: If I hear it, I can mimic it. Concentrates a moment, then roughly mimics Primordial. That one be tricky, and indeed ancient. Intrigued gleam in his eyes.
Sam: Delighted Well, my fine friend, I am pleased to count you among the ranks of the Fae.
language
De Tearion: Raises an eyebrow. Fae? I know not what a Fae, or even Dark Fae, be. Yet, I am Goliathan, a species of Forestfolk.
Sam: Grins That's the trick… you wouldn't know what the Dark Fae of the Mist Courts are. I am merely accepting you into Clan Argentum. The family of my good king, King Argentum Silver Blood.
language
De Tearion: Chirps. I still know nothing of Fae. I also doubt your king would appreciate me. I was a warlord once, and I am King Consort of a human kingdom. I serve no one. His eyes become a warning glare, telling Sam to tread carefully with this particular subject.
Sam: Ah… the Fae are magical beings that resided originally in two courts: the Seelie court and the Unseelie court. I'll not explain what the roles of each are, because we'd be here for yet another 20 years before I finished. Quite a bit before I was born, the two courts were Ripped Asunder. These two halves melded and formed the Mist Realms, a world filled with yet stranger Fae than any have known. Mine king is a prime example. He never forces his family to serve him. You, I am proud to say, have been accepted into the Clan of mine family, and as such, you are to be given the treatment of true Fae royalty. Mine king is understanding of his families problems, and I am in a similar such situation myself. He will accept you, truly.
language
De Tearion: Scrutinizes Sam for a moment. And what of traditions? Be there any I must follow? His glare seems to sharpen breifly as he says ‘traditions’. And what of my cohort and family?
Sam: Your cohort and family will be accepted into the clan, should they wish to be. Traditions are a matter for a later date, De Tearion. For now, you need to know this: the Fae are easy to offend. Be careful with your words.
language
De Tearion: Chirps. That may fare well not. I tend to speak harsh words, though I care little for insulting others.
Sam: Then you might find it best to stay silent unless it's absolutely necessary to speak.
language
De Tearion: Snorts. A tactic I have used most of my life. Though, I acknowledge that my use of it has waned recently. My dearest Mileena has shown me a path to peace, though I only begin to walk it.
Sam: Smiles at the snort I know you're a good person, though, so I will explain the situation to my kin.
language
De Tearion: A strange melancholy enters his eyes. The concept of good and evil be vague to me, yet I doubt I would be considered good. More… a prisoner eternally locked in his own cage of hatred, malice, and agony. He grabs his amulet, gently fiddling with the pendant.
Sam: Notices his fiddling Do you mind me asking what the meaning of that amulet is?
language
De Tearion: Visibly flinches, then takes a deep breath. ‘Tis… It was… my sister’s. She forged the pendant from the ashes of our mother, a common deed among Goliathans, a way to remember those who have ceased. Agatha gave it to me… takes another deep breath … as she died in my arms. A few black tears appeared, sliding down his cheeks.
Sam: Stunned Oh… Looks like she wants to hug De Tearion, but isn't sure he'd like that
language
De Tearion: Takes several deep breaths, but is still a bit shaky. ‘Tis the only physical reminder I have of her. Goes quiet as he stares into oblivion with sorrowful eyes.
Sam: Walks up to De Tearion, hesitantly, and hugs him
language
De Tearion: Flinches and stiffens, surprised by the hug. He seems a bit lost on how to react.
Sam: Feels him flinch but continues to hug him, less awkward now
language
De Tearion: Doesn’t move for a moment, then disappears in a cloud of black smoke. He reappears nearby, looking around as if searching for something. He chirps a particular sound, repeating it over and over for a moment, then sighs shakily and leans against a tree. He seems to avoid looking at Sam.
Sam: What's wrong?
language
De Tearion: Shakes his head. Mileena be here not. She be the only one I have known that truly comforts me. Few have ever offered me such thing, particularly truthfully. Still doesn’t look at Sam.
Sam: Ah… that seems sad… not you, just that nobodies ever offered you comfort truthfully.
language
De Tearion: Doesn’t reply, staring at the ground melancholically.
Sam: Frowns, then sits down where she is, deciding to wait as long as is needed before De Tearion talks
language
De Tearion: A long while passes, then he looks at Sam. Why linger?
Sam: She sighs Explanations. Words. Something. Then she's quiet again, waiting
