- Winter 46th
For three days Ennoia was absent from Ciraaci's cell. He didn't come in bearing a tray of goodies, swearing vows of safety and protection, proclaiming his trustworthiness, offering his company. She'd become used to him sitting there with her, talking with her, watching and learning whatever tidbits of information she was able to provide without outright interrogating her. If not for the bars on the door, Ciraaci might think their visits a pleasantry between neighbours.
Despite knowing better, she really did miss him.
So it was on a quiet day that Ennoia returned to her cell, sweeping in like a man on a mission with newfound purpose, lifting her gaze from the blotched stone floor to watch him as he settled in on his customary chair and set down his flickering candle. She leaned forward out of habit, keen for whatever it was he wanted to talk about, and he smiled an indulgent, affectionate little smirk.
“I have a treat for us today,” he said. He waited for her to express interest with an arching of a blonde brow before continuing, his smile growing until it beamed brighter than the memory of the sun. “We are going to learn Common!”
Her interest peaked at that, both of her eyebrows lifting high under her hairline as she reclined back on her straw bed. Learn Common? That would be a boon in this place; she could listen to the conversations held by the guards beyond her cell, understand the questions thrown at her from her captors, perhaps even carry on a little conversation of her own with Ennoia, and then one day use the skill to speak Common in order to escape this prison. Oh, there was promise there. Danger too, of course, as Ennoia may have an ulterior motive for teaching her this language, and it would make sense he’d have been told to do so by whatever shadowy individual directed his actions, but Ciraaci had to trust t̶r̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶m̶e̶ him, so she nodded.
Ennoia seemed to vibrate with pent up energy, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started, then! First, a few basics.”
He cleared his throat before beginning, and the ethaefal figured he’d done so as a way to gather his wits about himself before blustering into the lesson without keeping track of what he was meant to be teaching her. After a moment, he nodded to himself, looked at her again, and offered her a softer smile than all his previous ones had been.
“First thing’s first, my dear. Introductions.”
And that was how it began.
Ennoia ran her through the means to say ‘hello’, like he had earlier on in the season, insisting she not gesticulate so much with her hands in order to enunciate the importance of the spoken word. Common speakers didn’t use their hands so much. They put their inflection in their spoken words. Hand-sign was a crutch.
Ciraaci stumbled through ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’, recognizing the sounds as things he’d uttered to her at the start of their meetings without fail. She pushed through general pleasantries, from ‘welcome’ to ‘greetings’, not wholly understanding their meaning.
“Welcome,” explained Ennoia once she’d asked why they were any different from the first two when used as he wanted them used. “Is like ‘hello’, but more for a place, I suppose. Like ‘welcome home’, ‘welcome in’. Do you understand?” She hadn’t really, but he seemed patient to continue with it, helping her to understand the distinction, until she understood that saying ‘welcome’ when she saw someone for the first time was far different from saying ‘hello’, and that she should ‘welcome’ him to her cell when he came to see her. “It’s only polite,” he said. “We want to be polite.”
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Despite knowing better, she really did miss him.
So it was on a quiet day that Ennoia returned to her cell, sweeping in like a man on a mission with newfound purpose, lifting her gaze from the blotched stone floor to watch him as he settled in on his customary chair and set down his flickering candle. She leaned forward out of habit, keen for whatever it was he wanted to talk about, and he smiled an indulgent, affectionate little smirk.
“I have a treat for us today,” he said. He waited for her to express interest with an arching of a blonde brow before continuing, his smile growing until it beamed brighter than the memory of the sun. “We are going to learn Common!”
Her interest peaked at that, both of her eyebrows lifting high under her hairline as she reclined back on her straw bed. Learn Common? That would be a boon in this place; she could listen to the conversations held by the guards beyond her cell, understand the questions thrown at her from her captors, perhaps even carry on a little conversation of her own with Ennoia, and then one day use the skill to speak Common in order to escape this prison. Oh, there was promise there. Danger too, of course, as Ennoia may have an ulterior motive for teaching her this language, and it would make sense he’d have been told to do so by whatever shadowy individual directed his actions, but Ciraaci had to trust t̶r̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶m̶e̶ him, so she nodded.
Ennoia seemed to vibrate with pent up energy, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started, then! First, a few basics.”
He cleared his throat before beginning, and the ethaefal figured he’d done so as a way to gather his wits about himself before blustering into the lesson without keeping track of what he was meant to be teaching her. After a moment, he nodded to himself, looked at her again, and offered her a softer smile than all his previous ones had been.
“First thing’s first, my dear. Introductions.”
And that was how it began.
Ennoia ran her through the means to say ‘hello’, like he had earlier on in the season, insisting she not gesticulate so much with her hands in order to enunciate the importance of the spoken word. Common speakers didn’t use their hands so much. They put their inflection in their spoken words. Hand-sign was a crutch.
Ciraaci stumbled through ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’, recognizing the sounds as things he’d uttered to her at the start of their meetings without fail. She pushed through general pleasantries, from ‘welcome’ to ‘greetings’, not wholly understanding their meaning.
“Welcome,” explained Ennoia once she’d asked why they were any different from the first two when used as he wanted them used. “Is like ‘hello’, but more for a place, I suppose. Like ‘welcome home’, ‘welcome in’. Do you understand?” She hadn’t really, but he seemed patient to continue with it, helping her to understand the distinction, until she understood that saying ‘welcome’ when she saw someone for the first time was far different from saying ‘hello’, and that she should ‘welcome’ him to her cell when he came to see her. “It’s only polite,” he said. “We want to be polite.”
629