01-02-2009, 01:27 PM
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Silence followed her comment and Cercelee titled her head, waiting for a return, holding her breath. Perhaps the male would not speak to her. Then it came, merely an acknowledgment of just how far away Russia was, and perhaps a memory for him, of how he had come to stand on these shores. Closer now, and having heard him speak more words, his accent was clearer and Cercelee waited to hear more. Not disappointed, Cercelee smiled sadly at the male. Homesick was a foreign feeling to her, Dahlia was the first place she had ever truly thought to be home and never had she been too far away from it. “Perhaps you can do both. Stay for a while, and then go home, if you’d like.”
The voice came again, the foreign accent tickled her and while she was eager to ask questions he would have to answer, she did not rush, Cer did not wish to appear rude. “It is a pleasure to meet you Nikolai, I am Cercelee.” Did her voice sound as foreign to the male as his did to her? Cercelee doubted it, in these lands her accent was too common place. Although her voice had individual qualities, soft, soothing, melodic, her accent was of these lands. “Maps? Of these lands? What will you do with them?” What use did anyone in Russia have for maps of these lands?
The voice came again, the foreign accent tickled her and while she was eager to ask questions he would have to answer, she did not rush, Cer did not wish to appear rude. “It is a pleasure to meet you Nikolai, I am Cercelee.” Did her voice sound as foreign to the male as his did to her? Cercelee doubted it, in these lands her accent was too common place. Although her voice had individual qualities, soft, soothing, melodic, her accent was of these lands. “Maps? Of these lands? What will you do with them?” What use did anyone in Russia have for maps of these lands?