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De Tearion: Snorts in amusement, then sighs, sliding down the tree to sit on the ground. Out of boredom, he digs one of his feet into the dirt, messing around with the soil and leaves. What be this Clan of yours? Purpose, temperament, matters not. I have no knowledge of it whatsoever.
Sam: Clan Argentum is… unique… in that, we don't have a particular temperament or purpose. We are the gatherers, the ones who accept the strays and lost. We are led by the King, King Argentum Silver Blood, who witnessed the Ripping Asunder of the Courts, as I said earlier. He is not married, nor does he have heirs, as that is not the way we in the Courts of Mist choose our rulers. Instead, we have selected impartial sorcerers to enchant a system into place that cannot be beaten, because the only ones who know the Fae minds are the Fae themselves. Anyways, King Argentum is our King, and we respect him. All matters, big or small, are heard and dealt with fairly.
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De Tearion: Chuckles. If only I had met you twenty years ago. Yet, currently, I still believe I would fit not well. Shrugs. I know not. ‘Tis truthfully bewildering to meet creatures that exist outside of my homeland.
Sam: You'll fit perfectly well, De Tearion. We both know it, even if you choose not to outwardly believe it.
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De Tearion: Raises an eyebrow. I know not. This be a situation that I rarely deal with, primarily in regard to my extreme lack of knowledge of Fae. I learned in my youth that walking blindly into a situation will most likely end with your death, and thus I learn as much as I can prior to entering any situation.
Sam: In this case, you were dragged into the situation with no knowledge anyways.
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De Tearion: Looks at Sam. True. Looks around, admiring the trees for a moment. Shall we?
Sam: Shall we what? Head off to the Court of Mists to meet Clan Argentum?
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De Tearion: Chuckles. Aye, unless you wish to wander through this forest for a while. It matters not to me.
Sam: Sorts I'm fine with either. Honestly, I'd prefer wandering here, because I left there recently. It was too noisy… anyways, I'm content to just stay here for now, unless you really want to meet the rest of the Clan.
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De Tearion: Wander it be. Stands, looking around for a moment, then heads away. He drags his fingers along every tree he passes. ‘Tis been years since I was last in a true forest. I have missed this.
Sam: Sighing The trees of mine home are not as these are… mine trees are twisted, and grow taller than the mountains of the mortal Courts… I have missed these dearly, however, for mine days in these realms are indeed numbered…
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De Tearion: Looks at Sam. Numbered? How? Two beetle arms appear from his waist. They lace together on his belly.
Sam: Sighs It's- nothing… She looks away now, clearly not wanting to persue the topic any longer
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De Tearion: Hums, then nods, leaving the subject alone. He then glances upward before leaping straight up a dozen feet into one of the trees. He expertly grabs onto a branch, then begins to climb, his first pair of arms now beetle arms like the second pair.
Sam: Watches De tearion climb, then simply starts floating up You know, if you can grow beetle limbs, couldn't you grow beetle wings?
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De Tearion: Finds a group of clustered branches higher up in the tree and sits there, leaning back against the tree. He snorts at Sam. Aye, I have wings, yet I am better at gliding than flying. Beyond that, I prefer to climb.
Sam: Hums Hmmmmmm… I could remedy that, if you wanted?
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De Tearion: Shrugs casually. I infrequently use my wings, and merely need more practice. ‘Tis honestly merely a matter of preference. As I said before, I prefer to climb. ‘Tis difficult to explain why in the common tongue, yet I love… thinks of how to best explain it …being able to feel the trees as I climb, more than the sensation of flight. Shrugs again. I always have.
Sam: Thinks a moment, then starts speaking in the language of the Goliathan Might you explain it better in your own tongue, De Tearion?
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De Tearion: Looks at her incredulously. How can you speak the chirps and clicks of my birth tongue?
Sam: Grins It's simple, really. The Fae are also natural linguists, especially the Dark Fae.
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De Tearion: Yet, you possess not the proper… chirps … tongue, as humans say. I can hear it in your accent.
Sam: Grins again, her tongue changing to the proper one This better?
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De Tearion: His expression is calm, but he is clearly a bit unsettled. He speaks in Goliathan. ‘Tis been many years since I have conversed with another in this tongue. I forsook my brethren long ago.
Sam: Notices his unsettled manner What did they do? Or rather, what did they not do?
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De Tearion: Snorts. Firstly, I will clarify that I am unaccustomed to meeting a creature that can speak as a Goliathan. Secondly, ‘tis a long tale of misery I would rather avoid, yet ‘tis connected to my sister.
Sam: Smiles Oh, I know, That is precisely why I have chosen to converse in this tongue; and, I assumed it would be easier for you to communicate clearer in your own tongue. And it is strangely soothing to mine ear. And if you do not wish to tell me, I shall respect that.
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De Tearion: I can speak in Common as easily as Goliathan. It matters not. And aye, ‘tis indeed a wondrous sound, almost as delightful as the music of another’s heartbeat, especially the songs. Smiles thoughtfully, then sighs. I am much more open about it than I used to be, yet there are many, many painful memories. In short, Agatha was leucistic, and treated as inferior for it. I protected her most of my life, yet I was treated as inferior for doing such, despite being Chancellor. ‘Tis a harsh and bitter life I have lived.
Me: Just to clarify, ‘leucistic’ is partial albino.
Sam: Sighs That's horrible… why would anyone be treated in such a way?
Me: I know… and damn, he's the ruler of the Goliathan? That's actually awesome… well, not awesome, but you get what I mean-
