milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

cywyllog,
lust

(no subject)

Cywyllog is seated by the fire with a glass of wine and a book. She looks mildly frustrated, but is making the effort to get through at least one page.

...it might take her all night, but she's determined to do it. Just one page.

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Lust walks over with a curious look. "What is vexing you, if I may ask?"

"This book." She sighs. "Or rather that I have such a hard time reading it."

"Why is it hard? Is it in a language you do not know?" She looks to the text on the page as she draws close.

"It is Latin. I speak it well enough, but reading is not something I practice all that often." Cywyllog smiles slightly. "Which is what I am trying to do now. It seems to be somewhat of a circular problem."

"Are their spellings so different from their soundings?" Ah, the imperfect medium of English ...

"I... I do not know." She bites her bottom lip to think about it. "I write it even less than I read."

"Perhaps if you sounded out the letters to figure out the sound of the words?"

Cywyllog nods.

"That is what I have been doing, but it seems to take so long to get a few words along that I forget what came before and I must start again."

She thinks a moment, then walks back to Bar for a paper and pen.

The pen amuses her for a moment as she looks at it, then asks for a brush and squid ink.

"If you read the sounds to me, I can write them down to sound back to you, and you can understand the words this way," she offers.

"That might work." She sighs softly. "Though I think I may just take a rest from it for a time."

She shrugs slightly. "Whenever you want, then.

"How are things back in your home? Has your aunt left yet?"

"My aunt?" She looks momentarily confused.

"Oh, Morguase. My husband's aunt, actually, and yes, she left some time ago. His cousin remained, with his wife."

"Kind of them to keep you company," she murmurs, not believing a word of it.

"Gaheris is the King's nephew. He is expected to serve at Camelot." She explains. "They did not stay for us."

"Then he should stay in this Camelot and not your home."

Her opinion, as she has voiced before, is that all Lady Cywyllog's husband's family should be slaughtered like pigs.

Cywyllog blinks.

"Camelot is my home."

...

"We all live there." She continues. "The King, his most trusted soldiers and their families in the castle proper."

She rubs her nose. "Somehow I seem to have misinterpreted what you were saying."

"I am sorry. I tend to go on as though everyone should know what I am speaking about." She smiles apologetically. "I forget on occasion that some here do not know Camelot."

"So you do not live in a castle that is just for your family," she says in a kind of 'please tell me I've got it right this time' statement.

"No. I did in Wales, but Camelot is what Arthur built early in his reign and as he is king of all Briton, it had to accomodate soldiers and representatives from all kingdoms."

She nods finally. "Got it." She smiles. "Thank you."

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