The response is instantaneous. Nuada grins, swiftly followed by a bark of a laugh. "Ní leor teanga amháin!*"
Intrigue flits and skips along the corridors of his mind. A linguist? No, perhaps not, but the sound of his mother's tongue (though perverted over the aeons by mere mortals) sends a different pang to his chest. Fascination.
"David. Yes. So named for a king, no doubt. I am a prince, myself, and leader of a clan that has no claim to this place. You shall find precious few of us here put any stock in breeding or blood. I am the last of the Silverlances, which means nothing to you, I'm sure."
He takes precisely one step back. "Know instead that I am of the fae. Perhaps that means more to you."
His head tilts left, then right, eyes tracking David with something very close to eager anticipation. Then, in Middle English, for sheer intrigue's sake, "For I ne ken nat finde a man...that wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age."
no subject
Intrigue flits and skips along the corridors of his mind. A linguist? No, perhaps not, but the sound of his mother's tongue (though perverted over the aeons by mere mortals) sends a different pang to his chest. Fascination.
"David. Yes. So named for a king, no doubt. I am a prince, myself, and leader of a clan that has no claim to this place. You shall find precious few of us here put any stock in breeding or blood. I am the last of the Silverlances, which means nothing to you, I'm sure."
He takes precisely one step back. "Know instead that I am of the fae. Perhaps that means more to you."
His head tilts left, then right, eyes tracking David with something very close to eager anticipation. Then, in Middle English, for sheer intrigue's sake, "For I ne ken nat finde a man...that wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age."
((*One language is never enough!))