Trash Panda — Roleplayer Guild

Roman smiled to himself, pleased with how well their random little date was going. Abigail was clearly excited about getting ice cream, so it had been a good move for him to bring her to Jose’s cart. He watched as Jose gave her two small cups of ice cream, recommending his best-selling flavor to her—as he did with all of the other women Roman had brought to him in the past. In fact, things were going so well, he was tempted to try and bring her back to his apartment afterwards. Is it too soon though? He wondered, biting his lip impatiently. It was definitely too soon to tell whether or not she was still skittish around him. But he didn’t want to wait…

Shit, Roman took a step backwards, suddenly struck with dizziness. He muttered a short string of curses under his breath and rubbed his temple, willing it to go away. Not again. Not now. For as long as he could remember, he had suffered from occasional fainting spells. He had been to multiple doctors, and even some hippy natural-remedy believers—he had been desperate to try anything at that point—but no one could help him or find anything wrong. He narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on a nearby bush and fighting the urge to pass out. Fortunately, the spell passed within a few seconds, and he felt fine again. He sighed inwardly, That was close.

It was perfect timing too, because in the next moment, Roman saw Abigail turn to ask him if he was going to let her eat by herself. “Of course not,” he replied. “It’s polite to let a lady go first. I’m gonna treat you right, doll.” He nodded at Jose. “My usual.”

“Peanut butter and rocky road,” the vendor said knowingly. “I always keep some in stock for mi cliente favorito.” He dropped one scoop of each flavor into a waffle cone and handed it to Roman, then took a step back and beamed at him and Abigail. “I must say, you two make a handsome couple.”

“Y’think so?” Roman chuckled. He appreciated Jose’s smooth compliments. It made his job so much easier. He looked down at Abigail and gave her a teasing wink, “What do you think, Abby? Would we be ‘cute’ together?”

Crow’s head was still spinning from his near mistake. Even after telling himself repeatedly that there could never be a romance between them, there was obviously still a part of him that was hoping for one—a part of him that regretted pulling away from kissing Penelope. He felt torn in two. His logical mind said no, but his captured heart said yes. He closed his eyes. It was hard to argue with emotions. This was why he used to keep people at a distance. He had chosen the life of a loner. There was no room for love. Love was a pesky feeling that would keep him tethered to another person, when he needed a full range of motion to perform his thievery to the best of his ability. Love just made everything more complicated when it used to be so simple… but love also made his heart of stone feel just a little bit softer.

It doesn’t matter, Crow reminded himself once more. She’s a knight. Nothing is going to happen between us. Keep it together, Crow.

“I’ve been meaning to ask but how did you learn to copy the Younisian accent so well?” Penelope’s voice coaxed him back to reality. “You seem to know a lot about a place you’ve never been to.”

Crow whistled softly and folded his arms across his chest, “I hope you’re comfortable, love, because that’s a bit of a long story.” He winked at her. “And it’s a story I’m only going to tell you because I consider you my friend. You have permission to feel special now.” He cleared his throat:

“You already know I was born in the outer villages, but I’m not sure if you know what that entails. You see, many travelers come through from all over the world. I’ve met men and women from Younis, Gorm, Waithen, Medora, and many other kingdoms. I’ve also heard the languages and accents that each of them use. When I was just a child, I was quick to pick up foreign speech. I would listen to them speak with each other until I learned the words and phrases common to each kingdom.

“One day, my mother saw me speaking Weaenyit–that is, the language of Waithen—to the daughter of some passing Waithenese merchants. She took me home and checked my health, convinced I was possessed by a spirit of tongues, because she had never been able to learn another language fluently in all her years in the outer villages. When she realized there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about me, she came to the conclusion that my proficiency with languages must have come from my father. It makes sense. After all, he’s an ambassador for the king. He would have to be good with languages to do his job.” Crow laughed and shook his head. “My mother used to joke that I got the only good qualities my father had: his looks and his ability to pick up foreign speech.

“Anyway, I don’t necessarily know much about the culture of Younis apart from the little I’ve been told by travelers: They’re a very peaceful people who live more traditional lives than we do in Brerra. They’re also the only other kingdom that speaks Missenar, the language Brerratic people share, that I know of. Every other foreigner I’ve met spoke a different tongue. Tegi nyi Weaenyitili via’vri pha’s ifedvri. Tyih yesti e stelnrh vaephisitn l’viiry nyet zi va.” He grinned at Penelope in obvious pride of his talent to switch seamlessly from Missenar to Weaenyit. “It’s been a useful skill.”

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