[ AW ] ψ Tairgse

the moon will swallow me whole

The wanderer continued on, paws leading her from the arena of the Grove into a landscape less populated with trees and more expansive.

More majestic, some might say.

Her gaze drew over the waterfalls ahead as the woman approached, smooth rocks and pools of crisp water that seemed to call out to her. She inhaled, breathing in deep as sea air drifted out over her.

She knew of these Falls.

She had even been here, a time or two. They had not healed her scar, nor her heart. Yet, she returned because despite the waters not washing away her pains and sorrows, they were beautiful.

Meissa approached the waters, slowing as she reached the edge of one of those brilliant pools. Her eyes lifted skyward, to the great cliffs and water rushing from above.

Logically, they had to come from somewhere.

Perhaps some of that water came from Dawntide itself, or the Strid. She had heard rumours of the altar within that shadowed place... was this water runoff from that stone?

Perhaps, just perhaps, the magic some spoke of in these waters was only present when a sacrifice had been made.

An offering.

Thought — Scot Gaelic — English (limited)

Gwydion had wandered from the Mainland to explore one of the smaller islands he'd been hearing about since he'd woken up. He didn't know why he felt the pull to come here, but he had always been a bit of a wanderer at heart. Saora -- or Rionnach, he supposed -- was the same as it had always been, yet different. He had told Orlaith he planned to travel for bit now before taking the time to settle down and figure out what to do with this second chance he'd been given. He was no older than he had been the day he'd fallen asleep and that scared him. He didn't know what would happen now that he'd been affected by the fae's magic (at least that's what everyone seemed to think it was) but he knew that for now he could simply... live. It was all he could do, really. The young man swallowed the lump in his throat and hurried onward towards the sound of falls in the distance. Through the trees and undergrowth, till he spotted the source of the sound and with it, a stranger. Blinking, he stepped out of the forest and into view. His gaze rested evenly on the larger woman only a few feet ahead of him and he offered a slight wag of his tail along with a smile. "Hello!" he said, his gaelic accent mixing lightly into his greeting. "What are you doing?" he asked, glancing towards the falls then back to her. He did not know many from this place but he hoped to change that. Maybe life elsewhere would better suit him than back home. He didn't feel like he belonged there. "Gwydion Speaks."

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the moon will swallow me whole

A crunch.

A voice.

Meissa turned, surprised, and focused on the stranger. A man, smaller than she but with a coat so similar that for a moment, she hoped—but he spoke in a language she was only rudimentarily knowledgeable of.

A stranger from the other side of the sea?

A sailor, perhaps?

Ah, wait, he'd spoken!

Ah, hello— she said, laughing sheepishly. She then tried to piece together the second portion of what he'd said. She knew "what" and "you" and she thought "doing" sounded like the word "do".

Where she fell flat was trying to come up with a response in words he'd understand. Water That felt right. Be... pretty? Shit, that didn't feel quite right, and her ears flicked back nervously. She decided to switch back into her home language, with which she spoke much more eloquently. I'm sorry, I don't know your tongue very well. I'm taking a break from walking and decided to visit the Serenity Falls.

She looked up at them, awe in her eyes before turning back to the man.

What other words did she know in his tongue that fit here? Who you? Verbs and articles were harder and she felt stupid with how she stumbled over the few words, like a child who didn't even know how to talk.

I'm smart, I promise! I just don't know your language, her pleading eyes gleamed wordlessly.

Thought — Scot Gaelic — English (limited)

Gwydion offered a gentle smile at her broken English; it would seem she was not fluent but at least she'd tried. Apologetically, she told him what she was doing in Gaelic and he was lucky he'd learned the language from his mother when he was younger otherwise he'd likely have little luck talking with this woman. Still, he had met others before where language had been a barrier and had managed so maybe it wouldn't have been so difficult. "Tha e brèagha, nach eil? (It is pretty, isn't it?)" he commented, his gaze drifting to the majestic waterfall. This place reminded him of the braid, back home, but it was different in its own way. His gaze returned to her when she asked who he was and he lowered his head in greeting slightly. "Is e m’ ainm Gwydion. (My name is Gwydion.)" he offered easily. Though he was still out of sorts from just waking up, he had not forgotten his manners. He had not forgotten who he was and who he'd wanted to be. " Cha robh dùil agam coinneachadh ri duine sam bith a-muigh an seo an-diugh."(I didn't expect to meet anyone out here today.) he said thoughtfully. It was nice to see someone else that wasn't his family. "Ach chan eil mi air mòran rannsachaidh a dhèanamh air an àite seo fhathast." (But I have not yet explored this place much.) "Gwydion Speaks."

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