(--) Can bring le brother whenever, btw. c:
Machidael is by me!
Find... green, he said, motioning with his hands to approximate the size of the opium pod. Green... bulb, he suggested, the last word uttered in Arabic, for he did not know the English. Cut green, get... water? Get dark, hard. Take, he explained, the most basic of the harvesting process. Machidael had seen it done and done it himself a time or two, though in the desert, only the rare oasis grew the poppy flower, and those were few and far between.
Machi's grin returned full force with Amaury's curse, and his head bobbled up and down. Fuck! he declared, nodding his agreement to another joint. Where get? Bring? Find wild? Machidael's nose hadn't led him to any patches of native grass -- he'd been woefully dry since arriving on the coast. He listened to the man speak, missing the word describing the place. Lacking context, Machi couldn't figure out if he was praising or denigrating his abode, so the jackal remained silent on that point. His big ears swept forward to catch the wolf's words. Brother, he said, recognizing this word. Brother here? So that was the second scent Machi caught. He pondered whether the man would return, and if he was anything like this piebald canine here.
The russet hybrid grinned wicked approval of Amaury's gesture and repetition of the phrase. Good words. You take, Machidael offered. They were not his words to give, exactly, but it was a useful phrase, and if Amaury wanted it, he was surely welcome to appropriate it.
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