02-28-2009, 09:13 PM
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[/html]Barthélémy frowned. The girl blinked. He watched her, silently, as she began to speak. He frowned at her words, understanding most of what she said, yes, but unable to figure out where she was born. Nova Scotia? What was that? Or rather, where was that? Nova sounded a lot like Nouvelle, sort of like the name of... here. Nouvelle, Nova, perhaps... she meant Nouvelle-Écosse? He frowned, then nodded. He understood.
"Okay, Miss Allegro Aston! You have a funny accent. That must be because you are not from where I am from, much farther north. We call this Nova Scotia, yes? Okay, good, good, I think we do. Or you do. That is good." He frowned, pausing. "Oh, I just remembered. I have to show you something, okay? It is kind of scary -- very scary, actually -- but I need to show someone. Maybe you? Someone was hurt, very badly hurt. Many hurt. I need to get help. And find who did it. Can you help?" He rambled on quickly in his native tongue, his Northern dialect imposing itself in his words every so often. Despite having been born in the barren ice lands of Nord-du-Québec, he had spent much of his time in Côte-Nord, and had acquired the accent, or rather, the dialect. His vowels were stretched in some places, and his words clipped in others, making him sound both whimsical and gruff at the same time.