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westwhere2021-03-27 06:48 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2021-03-27 06:48 pm
sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)
WHO: Everyone ever + the local Sa-hareth squad.
WHEN: Arc I: Sa-Hareth arrival.
WHERE: Sa-Hareth citadel, salt mine, the old jailhouse,
WHAT: Our intrepid heroes get commandeered into the frosty unknown.
WARNINGS: the glorious undead, background House of Dew mentions, at least one person's terrible sense of humour.
jailhouse!
[Her smile is still in place, light and friendly like she doesn't notice at all that he seems a bit exasperated--or maybe just tired? Ah, well. He doesn't have the language required to tell her to stop and she's going to take advantage of that.
He says--something, and her eyebrows furrow a little, not sure if it was a name or something else. But then when he gestures to himself and says something different, she assumes that's probably the actual name?]
Chen Wang. [She sort of slurs the words together by mistake and frowns, brow furrowing again in concentration before she repeats it a bit slower, more accurately.] Chen Wang.
[And then brightening once it seems she's got it. She can't exactly execute a full curtsy like this, but she bows her head and upper body as best she can with the corset in the way before she straightens.
Winnie turns a little and leans over, dragging her finger through the dirt to draw a vague outline of the United Kingdom onto the ground. She points to herself, then the island she's drawn.]
England. [Then she writes down 'England' beneath it.]
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But then she scribbles something, a drawing of some kind, and then symbols that he assumes are some sort of transcription of her language, and... no. None of the shapes, whether of the drawing or the letters, ring a single bell. He's just going to raise an eyebrow and give her a slightly puzzled sidelook.]
What is this supposed to be?
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She looks down at her little England shape, eyes going half-lidded and calculating as she tries to figure if she should keep going with the map or not. The gaze is turned on Moran himself after a moment, though she keeps her expression more subdued and thoughtful and less “scientist trying a bug.”
He seems quiet and reserved, so her usual enthusiasm probably won’t get her anywhere. She wanted to seem cheerfully optimistic and a bit silly, not an outright burden. So Winnie schools her face into a quieter, apologetic look.]
I’m sorry. [He might not know the words, but she hopes the sentiment still gets across. She reaches out and wipes away her work, before writing down her own name.]
‘Winnie.’ [She gestures to it to show she’s written her name. Then she writes ‘Chen Wang’ next to it.] ‘Chen Wang.’
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Her next attempt is easier to understand. So those scribbles are writing indeed. He examines both the ones for her name, and the one she wrote for his. Much longer than he expected.
With his own finger, he traces the characters below her transcription.
宸王
He points at each in turn and says them again, more slowly, with the right tone.]
Chén. Wáng.
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She doesn’t get the stroke orders right or anything, but she does a fairly decent job at copying it.] Chén. Wáng. [She murmurs the name with each repetition of the characters, though her tone is still a little off.]
Hmm, my name likely isn’t going to translate well into these characters... [She murmurs to herself, looking thoughtful as she taps at her chin, smearing dirt against it without seeming to notice.
She wipes away the words again before humming thoughtfully and then drawing an approximate cat face, whiskers and all, and writing ‘cat’ beneath it. She does similar drawings for a dog, a bird, and a tree, writing and pointing at each in turn.] Cat. Dog. Bird. Tree. [And then she grins at him, expression imploring. It’s silly and likely not to really get them far, but it’s something, and it’s a bit of fun. For Winnie, anyhow. She’s eager to learn more and pass the time with it for as long as Moran’s patience lasts.]
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The 'game' is harmless, and it's helping him focus a bit through the hazy fog of whatever drug they've been dosed with since coming here. He listens to her words, and makes an effort to try and repeat them. Tone doesn't seem to matter much in that language, at least. But everything needs a lot of writing.
He takes his turn to write the characters under each drawing.
貓 狗 鳥 木
And then, he pronounces them.]
Māo. Gǒu. Niǎo. Mù.
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Hm. No, something’s not— [She frowns, screwing up her face in a look of concentration before she mutters them again, slower, attempting to make it sound as close to Moran’s attempts as she can.
She laughs a little, smiling to herself] Harder than it seems. [But she doesn’t seem deterred by it, thoughtfully tracing some of the characters again.] It’s a wonder babies can learn to speak at all with how difficult it can be to teach language. I can point at something as say, “this is a cat” over and over but it won’t make much sense if you don’t know the other words in the sentence. No wonder it takes so long for babies to learn.
[She’s never paid attention to children before really but now she’s sort of wishing she had. This feels like it will take a very long time before they’re able to do any actual conversing with each other. She smiles at him lightly, hums thoughtfully, and then wipes away some more.
She’s not sure if it’ll help anyway, but she writes out the alphabet, going through each letter A through Z, before pointing out specific letters for her name:] W. I. N. N. I. E. [To point it out. All of their words made up from these letters.]
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So he writes 3 more characters in the dust.
毛 帽 矛
He points to the first one.]
Máo.
[And then holds up a lock of his hair. Then he points to the second one.]
Mào.
[This time, he draws someone's head and shoulders, and a headdress on top of the head. Then he points at the third one.]
Máo.
[Yes, same tone as the first one he said, except this time, he draws a picture of a spear under it. And finally, he point at 猫 again, under the picture of the cat.]
Māo.
[he watches with interest as she scribbles some more... So this language she speaks is phonetic, then? Each of these scribbles represent a sound, and you combine them to write words.]
Efficient. A lot less to learn than characters.
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[Winnie laughs a little, shaking her head as she reaches out to write her own next to them.] ‘Hair.’ [She hesitates at the next one, not entirely sure which part of it he was really addressing. She assumes the headdress but is it ‘headdress’ or ‘hat’ or ‘crown’? She hazards a guess] ‘Hat.’ And ‘spear.’
[Wait. She looks baffled a moment and tugs on his sleeve—as if she doesn’t already have his attention. She points to the spear.] Spear. Máo? [She points to the first one and then tugs on her own pale hair] Hair? Máo? Máo and máo?
[She looks baffled, and a little like she’s not sure if he’s messing with her or not. Winnie supposes that context would mean everything, but still!]
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Yes. They are the same. A lot of words sound the same in my language.
[Which of course, he cannot explain in great details, because their limited understanding means linguistics explanations are out of the question.
But for the sake of further demonstration, he draws a picture of a star, and something a bit stylized, but still recognizable as a monkey. And then he draws two characters under them.
星 猩
And he points at each one in turn.]
Xīng. Xīng.
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She turn her attention back on the new characters and drawings, shaking her head a little in mild disbelief. Maybe she should learn to read the language more than speak it... That seems a little less prone to error. Maybe.
She reaches out to write again under them.] ‘Star.’ ‘Monkey.’ [She shakes her head in amusement. After a moment Winnie turns her attention on him, examining him as intently as she’d studied the writing. He looks to be about the same age as her. The silk robes, the long hair and the hairpiece all, to Winnie, seemed to mark him as some sort of noble— there was a certain way he carried himself that was reminiscent of the people in circles she herself had walked in. For normal people, this sort of abrupt change in scenery must be a bit of a shock.]
Chén Wáng. [Just to get his attention before she boldly reaches out to clasp one of his hands in her both her own and smiles warmly, gratefully.] Thank you. [There’s a lot she could really try to say here and elaborate on. ‘Thank you’ for being kind to her and being sane during this and not attacking her or doing some thing crazy? ‘Thank you’ for tolerating her silly games?
Or maybe ‘thank you’ for the opportunity to see if her expressions and body language alone could seem genuine enough to pass for real. This experiment was a lucrative one, even if she was ready for it to move on.
Her eyes well with tears and she blinks, letting him go to press the heel of her hand to just under her eye, trying to wipe them away. She gives a watery little laugh, as if embarrassed by the overwhelming emotion of it all and shakes her head] Sorry. [It was just so much you know?? A noblewoman waking up in a jail! Technically she supposes she should’ve been hysterical and fainting or something from the get go, but this quieter show of emotion would likely be more impactful. The picture of a woman trying to keep it together despite the circumstances.]
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There are so few people who are allowed to touch him freely, and even fewer that he would accept it from without a visible flinch and attempt for distance. Life as an Imperial Prince means people tend to avoid touching you or even looking at you in the eyes, because they like being alive and don't want to offend.
There was one, once, who crashed into Moran's world and did not seem to care about such things, but she was special and different. A stranger latching onto him is instant discomfort.
There might also be the added puzzlement of a woman acting helpless. None of the women in Moran's life act like this. Some of them probably could kill him if they really wanted to. A few have tried. They tend to not be damsels in distress, except when they want to use it as a ploy for something.
Still, even with the drug muddling his brain, he is not insensitive to the fact that she seems upset. But he is still going to keep awkwardly trying to get his hand back.]
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She drops her hands from her face and claps them together once with an air of, 'that's done now!' Before she wipes her face and smiles at him again.] Sorry, sorry... I don't know what came over me. This won't help at all.
[Her clothing doesn't make it easy to rela either, and she turns her attention to the rope connecting their wrists instead, picking at it a little.] They already locked us in here, this feels like overkill at this point...
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His gaze follows her as she tugs at the rope, and for once, lack of words doesn't seem a hindrance to understanding the feeling here.]
... There's nothing sharp we could use to cut it.
[Also, what sort of country is this, locking up men and women together and tying them up together. Clearly uncivilized.]