"Is that so?" He sounds impressed and a little envious; L's not usually intimidated by things he doesn't know, but things he can't expand his knowledge on (like a sleeper's language in a world he's unlikely visit) can strike him down with ennui.
"That should work, then. There are truly infinite paths to finding what you want, here, it just requires some focus."
He goes to a nearby tall desk with quills and a notepad. These aren't fairly uncommon in the Archives, placed there for the benefit of researches.
"Because it's unfamiliar to me, write the word down, if you would, so I can see its spelling and script."
Curiosity about language is one that they evidently share. There's really no more harm in writing the word than saying it, so he steps up to the desk with a polite "of course."
His hand is shaky, as if out of practice (which he might be? he frowns a bit, unsure). But he carefully spells out duwiau, in the Roman alphabet. One of that empire's gifts to what was once Britannia.
When Lucius has finished, L carefully lifts the paper by the corner with his thumb and forefinger, as though trying to leave as little evidence of having touched it as possible.
Ah. Welsh... Like perhaps some other polyglots have discovered in Trench, occasionally wires get crossed with the auto-translate feature.
"Thanks for humoring me. I just wanted to be sure of something. In this case... due to the language of origin, I might start through association with celtic gods. Llyr, Branwen and so forth. If you're researching Trench's gods, of course, it's a bit roundabout, but... sometimes that's better in this place. The Archives almost seem to appreciate the extra steps."
Ah, he's familiar with it. Someone else from a version of Earth, at the very least. Lucius smiles wryly. "So the Archives want us to work for it?" Not exactly surprising. Such is the way of the world. And besides, the Archives must be connected to Never Mind, who Lucius expects is not a being who's inclined to simply hand things out.
Then, with curiosity (and perhaps some homesickness) overcoming caution, "you know Welsh?"
"Work for it... guess for it, be lucky for it," he shrugs. "It's a little bit of intuitive trust, and a little bit of reasoning and logic. If you can understand that both of those things can coexist, you'll do OK, here."
He cants his head, giving a light nod. "I know some Welsh; I'd call it enough, but Winchester was the closest I ever lived, to Wales. I can't see I needed it often, so it's very rusty. Different for you, I suppose."
Yes, he can understand. Sometimes the mind intuits things below conscious thought, evident only as a feeling for the rest of it to follow up on. Sometimes the body remembers what the mind does not.
But right now, the mind is occupied in any case. "Winchester?" He furrows his brow. He can't quite place it. "Is that in Mercia?" Or futher east?
"England," he offers good-naturedly enough. "We're all in the British Isles, you know, although... I've lived so much of my life in the rest of the world that I don't know if I can properly call myself from anywhere. A shame, that."
His smile is bland and doesn't reach his eyes. "We're not from the same world... I sense it. I still commend, and appreciate, your efforts to relate to me. I don't receive them often."
Yes, England. The land of the Angles and the Saxons. A good Welsh boy, Lucius is naturally not very fond of either group, but that's no reason to dismiss any individual. He does like 'the British Isles,' a name that's new to him but properly evokes the Roman past.
The boy's smile is warmer. "Not at all - I appreciate your assistance. This is the first time anyone in this world has recognized my language." He pauses, and adds "I'd be interested to hear about your travels sometime."
Not the same world, or perhaps just not the same time, but knowledge is knowledge. And strange as this man is, he's clearly highly observant.
"The most boring people talk about themselves at length, and I really try not to be boring," L says, a coy but overall kind deflection. He has many reasons to guard his secrets closely, and even if many of them simply don't apply with Trench's bizarre new rules and opportunities, old habits are incredibly difficult to break.
"I'm not opposed to speaking again, though. It could be fun, or informative, or even both at once."
It is a deflection, and noted, though it's a polite enough one Lucius won't challenge it. There are many reasons people keep themselves close, cut off.
"Hopefully both. We'll probably run into each other around here again."
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January Event Continuation for L
"It means 'gods.' As you said."
no subject
"That should work, then. There are truly infinite paths to finding what you want, here, it just requires some focus."
He goes to a nearby tall desk with quills and a notepad. These aren't fairly uncommon in the Archives, placed there for the benefit of researches.
"Because it's unfamiliar to me, write the word down, if you would, so I can see its spelling and script."
rl sure is a thing
His hand is shaky, as if out of practice (which he might be? he frowns a bit, unsure). But he carefully spells out duwiau, in the Roman alphabet. One of that empire's gifts to what was once Britannia.
Concur!
Ah. Welsh... Like perhaps some other polyglots have discovered in Trench, occasionally wires get crossed with the auto-translate feature.
"Thanks for humoring me. I just wanted to be sure of something. In this case... due to the language of origin, I might start through association with celtic gods. Llyr, Branwen and so forth. If you're researching Trench's gods, of course, it's a bit roundabout, but... sometimes that's better in this place. The Archives almost seem to appreciate the extra steps."
no subject
Then, with curiosity (and perhaps some homesickness) overcoming caution, "you know Welsh?"
no subject
He cants his head, giving a light nod. "I know some Welsh; I'd call it enough, but Winchester was the closest I ever lived, to Wales. I can't see I needed it often, so it's very rusty. Different for you, I suppose."
no subject
But right now, the mind is occupied in any case. "Winchester?" He furrows his brow. He can't quite place it. "Is that in Mercia?" Or futher east?
no subject
His smile is bland and doesn't reach his eyes. "We're not from the same world... I sense it. I still commend, and appreciate, your efforts to relate to me. I don't receive them often."
no subject
The boy's smile is warmer. "Not at all - I appreciate your assistance. This is the first time anyone in this world has recognized my language." He pauses, and adds "I'd be interested to hear about your travels sometime."
Not the same world, or perhaps just not the same time, but knowledge is knowledge. And strange as this man is, he's clearly highly observant.
no subject
"I'm not opposed to speaking again, though. It could be fun, or informative, or even both at once."
no subject
"Hopefully both. We'll probably run into each other around here again."