Faolan continued walking, making his way through the trees with ease. Although his homeland hadn't been filled with much in the way of forests, Faolan had quickly found himself adept at traversing through all sorts of different terrain.

At Lucien's horrible pronunciation, Faolan nearly laughed aloud. He had heard Irish butchered many times in the past, but never had he heard it with a French accent. It was absurd, but he would never say that, no need to hurt the lad's feelings. He doubted that he had spelled anything correctly, although Faolan wouldn't know by sight; he couldn't write in Irish, he had never been taught to and could only speak it.

[color=a36209]"[i]Dia Duit,[/i]" [/color]he enunciated, [color=a36209]"Is good morning, more or less. [i]'Craic'[/i] is kind of like...fun? Asking 'How's the craic?" is like 'How's it going?'. [i]Banjaxed[/i]...well, honestly I thought that was English. It means exhausted."[/color] Faolan had been told in the past that Irish was an extremely strange and hard language to learn, but to him it was the language he had used at home. His parents were native Irish farmers, so he could speak both languages for as long as he could remember. This was not common anymore, given that the English had outlawed the use of Irish in Ireland, which was absurd. He promised himself that when he left his home, he would not allow the language to die.