"Yol veyr. Yol. Veyr. What do you think it means?" *Deirdre pointed to one side of the notebook, highlighting writing that scholars might have considered a dead language before the isles' emergence from the mists of time. The postulant cow in her humble clothes spoke uneasily, uncertain not in the information she was presenting but in the fact she was presenting it to a fox; every instinct she had was screaming at her for such an audacious action.[/i]

"Hmm...Yol is still 'I', right? Or... 'I had' as in the past tense?" Alessi questioned, his trained eye catching the slight ease of tension in his bovine friend from his answer thus far and discerning he'd gotten the correct answer. "Well, I guess veyr is a verb...so, I guess it'd be 'write'? 'I wrote'?"

Deirdre smiled, but it was a kind one rather than a truly proud one. "Very close. Veyr is 'read' in this case, its opposite. If it were 'write', it would be before the subject. Verbs of creation or power precede the subject, where verbs of receiving or accepting come after. Veyr yol is 'I wrote', where Yol veyr is 'I read'."

"Oooh, right. The whole 'opposites' thing," Alessi sighed. "This has so many more rules than our modern tongues. I see now why we did away with it."

Deirdre considered the bawd-turned-adventurer's words, looking over the slightly despondant look on the fox's face. "Um...well, instead of thinking of it like a lot of rules," the cow suggested, "why not think of it like...a dance? A dance doesn't have set moves, or every dance would be the same. But there's a rhythm...right? Like...a more forceful and assertive motion has one way, and a more passive and submissive motion has another...I think?"

The fox's eyes lit up; he'd spent enough time with Deirdre to know the uptight pilgrim and scholar wasn't one to think about dancing. A smile stretched across his muzzle as he simultaneously appreciated her effort to meet him halfway and also began piecing together the logic. "Hmm! You're right, darling," he hummed, a new sense of encouragement and purpose bolstering his commitment to learning this precious skill. "Like a dance...so this next sentence, 'Yae litem'...he's on the back foot, so that's...'I understand'? And here, later on, he shifts to the front foot...'Litem yael'...'I will teach'?"

Deirdre didn't often feel pride, but amidst the second-hand pride was a spark of excitement she'd found a metaphor that helped the talented fox dancer find his rhythm. "Y-yes! Yes, exactly. Good job, Alessi!" Having pushed through to use who previously she'd have considered her superior's name, she pushed down those doubtful feelings and redoubled her teaching efforts. She proceeded with such excitement that she didn't even notice what she'd previously have recoiled from: the gentle resting of Alessi's hand on her arm.

Deirdre, especially in a setting that reinforces her poor upbringing such as the Ironclaw campaign I played her in's, has a hard time taking positions of authority or teaching. It doesn't matter if she's the most accessible expert on the topic. It's doubly hard to teach someone who (at least some of the time) signals as male. It's triply hard if that someone is also of a predatory species. But, back in that game, she had been convinced by Alessi to teach him the skill she'd spent weeks developing: the translation and rough approximation of the previously-dead language they now were encountering on the isles. I like to imagine this moment was a more heartening and empowering one than many others. (And the tankard is almost assuredly containing water, tea, or coffee; Deirdre doesn't drink.)

I forgot to upload this when DamienFox showed this to me many years ago! I can't believe I did, because I love it a ton and frequently look at it when imagining scenes with Deirdre now. She's still a terribly inspiring character in some ways. Alessi, Damien's grey fox dancer, is a fantastically vibrant and positive character too, even despite a rough backstory. I'm always glad for an excuse to write even just a short with him. It's a great moment to have in art. <3

Art and Alessi Ilusrebane (c) DamienFox
Deirdre Lyne (c) Myself