in the slipping of the sun

Tlantli Kimaris · 02-23-2012, 07:24 AM

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Tlantli is by me!

The flaxen-haired coyote had no comprehension how accurate Imhotep's map was. Indeed, maps needn't be precisely accurate in order to be useful, in any case: a rough approximation was better than nothing, after all, and nothing was precisely what most packs had. Perhaps her coal-furred sister, false as Eris was, would make use of this one's cartography skill -- but Tlantli wouldn't be the one to play informant. Their Auxiliary and Boss would have to learn of these additional skills of Imhotep's by their own actions, or his own admittance.

Not very good is worlds better than not at all, she said, a cryptic smile passing over her muzzle. But yes -- here is good place, and you will find good treatment. I know what you speak of -- in Barbados, some did not like our Spanish very much. They liked their... mestizo language, half-English, half-something. Here, you speak what you want, I think -- others won't understand, but you would not get beat for it. Mostly -- Tlantli could think of a few situations where Arabic or Spanish babbling would get her and Imhotep in trouble -- when addressing the Auxiliary or the Boss, perhaps.

Maybe some would even like to learn your mother tongue? I helped teach Salvia, the Auxiliary's daughter, Spanish. This suggestion was offered with a faint smile, and she stretched and flexed her arms again, working the thorns deeper. The time would come soon when they would need to strip them from their skin and wash the wounds, but Tlantli could tolerate them a bit longer.

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