there is a soft skip of dracarys' heart beat within his chest as the stranger speaks in his native tongue. frostbound gaze studies him slower, more in-depth now. though the siren prince is still wary, still unsure if he is friend or foe though there was nothing hostile in his stance ... the shared tongue demands closer attention be paid.
i do not dance in it, no acknowledgement of this is given beyond a lazy flick of his ear. it was an inconvenience, to have to speak in the crude — to him — common tongue.
i do not dance in it, no acknowledgement of this is given beyond a lazy flick of his ear. it was an inconvenience, to have to speak in the crude — to him — common tongue.
a shame,speaks dracarys, common accented; smoky. softened though it feels like sandpaper upon his tongue.
do you have a name, issaros?