Post by Shale August on May 1, 2008 9:32:45 GMT
((OOC: I think it’s King, Duke, Marquess, Earl, Viscount and Baron.
Eh, no worries. I don’t speak French. XP
And I'm very sorry for the long absence, but I was incredibly busy. Hopefully this can pick up again. ))
"Oho! Th'n I'm triply pleas'd t' meet ye, Miss August. 'Tis always nice t' meet a beast from th' more civilized… that is, I mean Cath'lic… reg'ns o' th' world." The squirrel seemed pleased. Well, of course. There would not be many foreigners from Spain or France wandering about the countryside here. Shale had not, until now, met any beast from similar origins to her – this was good enough. However, she flinched a little when the squirrel mentioned religion, remembering her childhood in the isolated village of Meleam.
Euskaldunak were generally Catholic, as the squirrel had said, yet in the sometimes-harsh clime of the high Pyrenees, there were always other beliefs the inhabitants clung to. Shale’s grandfather had been, and hopefully still was, a Basajaun, a teacher of and devout believer in the old faith. There had always been tension between her grandfather and the Catholics of the cities that passed through, who every time named Unai a simple heretic. It had been obvious to the young kit as she grew up that religion was not for her – yet it seemed to follow her everywhere.
Suddenly, or maybe not quite so suddenly, the golden squirrel began to speak again. "I am of the Eale family, sort of. My brother ye may have heard of ... Milord Duke (as ye' English say) don Corin de Corveda Eale. I am from th' Catalans..Corin, currently, rules the Arkains, which is an earld'm. Ye' may 'ave heard of it? ... We, or they in any case, make excell'nt wines."
Arkains, she thought, in the Catalans. She shrugged casually. Perhaps she had heard of them, perhaps she hadn’t. They did both sound slightly familiar, but then, all Spanish sounded quite the same. What she did realize was that the squirrel she was talking to was of nobility, like the Jaurerria she had had the honor of meeting in Gutxiar. In all honesty, she was quite afraid of those in elevated positions.
"Unfort'nately, my fam'ly an' I 'ave had a bit of a fallin' out, ye might say. My brother Reg'n, though, is a duke und'r Corin an' an Ambassd'r." Shale nearly sighed with relief. She guessed that this Eale squirrel had been disowned, and was therefore no longer nobility – not anyone Shale had to be frightened of. He didn’t look particularly frightening or imposing, anyway.
However, if this squirrel was to be believed, there was a duke, an actual duke, somewhere near. An ambassador, but a duke nonetheless. Another Spaniard, inevitably, but a Grandee as well, whom Shale would eventually have to meet. Not a very nice prospect, admittedly, yet she couldn’t exactly be unfriendly. She nodded respectfully. “I regret I do not know very well where zis Arkainz are, but I am still pleazed to make your acquaintance, and hopefully soon your brother's.”
“Enchanté, Mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Alfkaell Ageirr. Et cette écureuil est Terragon Scrufftail.” The familiar liquid sound of French washed into Shale’s ears and her lips twitched into a smile. It was never as comforting as hearing Basque, but French was far more tasteful to Shale’s ears than the rough English that she still had difficulties speaking.
“Monsieur.” She gave a slight bow of her head in a fairly masculine greeting, her eyes on the otter’s face even as she did so. “Je sais que j’ai dit dêja mon nom, mais je m’appelle Shale August.” A slight gesture at herself accompanied the fast, excited French that slipped from her mouth. “Alfkaell – je n’ai pas dêja entendre cet nom. Ou venez-vous ? Je viens de les Pyrenees.”
Her bushy tail whisked about her legs, giving away her surprise and delight to be able to speak French again, even as she turned to the other squirrel, the one the otter had introduced as Terragon. Shale bowed her head once more, again with the same, minimal respect.
Eh, no worries. I don’t speak French. XP
And I'm very sorry for the long absence, but I was incredibly busy. Hopefully this can pick up again. ))
"Oho! Th'n I'm triply pleas'd t' meet ye, Miss August. 'Tis always nice t' meet a beast from th' more civilized… that is, I mean Cath'lic… reg'ns o' th' world." The squirrel seemed pleased. Well, of course. There would not be many foreigners from Spain or France wandering about the countryside here. Shale had not, until now, met any beast from similar origins to her – this was good enough. However, she flinched a little when the squirrel mentioned religion, remembering her childhood in the isolated village of Meleam.
Euskaldunak were generally Catholic, as the squirrel had said, yet in the sometimes-harsh clime of the high Pyrenees, there were always other beliefs the inhabitants clung to. Shale’s grandfather had been, and hopefully still was, a Basajaun, a teacher of and devout believer in the old faith. There had always been tension between her grandfather and the Catholics of the cities that passed through, who every time named Unai a simple heretic. It had been obvious to the young kit as she grew up that religion was not for her – yet it seemed to follow her everywhere.
Suddenly, or maybe not quite so suddenly, the golden squirrel began to speak again. "I am of the Eale family, sort of. My brother ye may have heard of ... Milord Duke (as ye' English say) don Corin de Corveda Eale. I am from th' Catalans..Corin, currently, rules the Arkains, which is an earld'm. Ye' may 'ave heard of it? ... We, or they in any case, make excell'nt wines."
Arkains, she thought, in the Catalans. She shrugged casually. Perhaps she had heard of them, perhaps she hadn’t. They did both sound slightly familiar, but then, all Spanish sounded quite the same. What she did realize was that the squirrel she was talking to was of nobility, like the Jaurerria she had had the honor of meeting in Gutxiar. In all honesty, she was quite afraid of those in elevated positions.
"Unfort'nately, my fam'ly an' I 'ave had a bit of a fallin' out, ye might say. My brother Reg'n, though, is a duke und'r Corin an' an Ambassd'r." Shale nearly sighed with relief. She guessed that this Eale squirrel had been disowned, and was therefore no longer nobility – not anyone Shale had to be frightened of. He didn’t look particularly frightening or imposing, anyway.
However, if this squirrel was to be believed, there was a duke, an actual duke, somewhere near. An ambassador, but a duke nonetheless. Another Spaniard, inevitably, but a Grandee as well, whom Shale would eventually have to meet. Not a very nice prospect, admittedly, yet she couldn’t exactly be unfriendly. She nodded respectfully. “I regret I do not know very well where zis Arkainz are, but I am still pleazed to make your acquaintance, and hopefully soon your brother's.”
“Enchanté, Mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Alfkaell Ageirr. Et cette écureuil est Terragon Scrufftail.” The familiar liquid sound of French washed into Shale’s ears and her lips twitched into a smile. It was never as comforting as hearing Basque, but French was far more tasteful to Shale’s ears than the rough English that she still had difficulties speaking.
“Monsieur.” She gave a slight bow of her head in a fairly masculine greeting, her eyes on the otter’s face even as she did so. “Je sais que j’ai dit dêja mon nom, mais je m’appelle Shale August.” A slight gesture at herself accompanied the fast, excited French that slipped from her mouth. “Alfkaell – je n’ai pas dêja entendre cet nom. Ou venez-vous ? Je viens de les Pyrenees.”
Her bushy tail whisked about her legs, giving away her surprise and delight to be able to speak French again, even as she turned to the other squirrel, the one the otter had introduced as Terragon. Shale bowed her head once more, again with the same, minimal respect.