Rebecca Hb. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beckyh2112) wrote2006-12-23 05:05 pm
beckyh2112) wrote2006-12-23 05:05 pm
Entry tags:
Crack for Seiber
English was a thin thing, with dirty hair that only revealed its true gold after French had ordered his servants to wash the other language of all the myriad dirt he had collected. Then came tending to his wounds, everything from scratches from fingernails to out-and-out weapon-blows. There was something about being the bastard son of Angles and Saxons that made English incapable of avoiding a fight.
Come to think of it, the old reprobate Gaelic and his countless dialect-forms dwelled in the same area English came from. Nng. At least English hadn't taken to painting himself blue.
French himself was a rather short, well-muscled man with long black hair that he'd once kept in ringlets. That had gone out of style, though, so he pulled it back in a ponytail. He dressed fashionably for whatever situation he might be in, ate exquisite food that sometimes made other people wonder what exactly he defined as 'food', and had a taste for art that extended well into the eclectic.
English was taller than him, but most of them were. The languages of the Far East tended to be shorter, but he generally preferred to avoid them. French did not at all like coming home from a night out to find strange little words in his pockets. He always did his best to return them, but some of them just insisted on sticking around until they became a part of him.
Certainly that had been a fine thing to do when he was younger and more rowdy. Why, he even had a few different faces he wore when he was in the New World. But he was getting older, and he loved the country he'd grown up in. The people here looked to him to represent certain things. It wouldn't do to muddy himself up with foreign words.
He stroked English's golden hair as the other language slept in his bed. English was entirely different from him in many ways. He was a Romance language, descended from stately (and now undead) Latin. English was a Germanic bastard, and while his relatives had a reputation for pillaging and banditry, English just opened himself to most any language he met. There were terrible amounts of Romance tongues in him, and then there were the Middle Eastern languages. For a long time in the latter nineteenth-century, he'd gotten used to English showing up in a burnoose.
English was a dirty little slut when it got right down to it, and yet he still let the other language into his bed. Hngh.
Come to think of it, the old reprobate Gaelic and his countless dialect-forms dwelled in the same area English came from. Nng. At least English hadn't taken to painting himself blue.
French himself was a rather short, well-muscled man with long black hair that he'd once kept in ringlets. That had gone out of style, though, so he pulled it back in a ponytail. He dressed fashionably for whatever situation he might be in, ate exquisite food that sometimes made other people wonder what exactly he defined as 'food', and had a taste for art that extended well into the eclectic.
English was taller than him, but most of them were. The languages of the Far East tended to be shorter, but he generally preferred to avoid them. French did not at all like coming home from a night out to find strange little words in his pockets. He always did his best to return them, but some of them just insisted on sticking around until they became a part of him.
Certainly that had been a fine thing to do when he was younger and more rowdy. Why, he even had a few different faces he wore when he was in the New World. But he was getting older, and he loved the country he'd grown up in. The people here looked to him to represent certain things. It wouldn't do to muddy himself up with foreign words.
He stroked English's golden hair as the other language slept in his bed. English was entirely different from him in many ways. He was a Romance language, descended from stately (and now undead) Latin. English was a Germanic bastard, and while his relatives had a reputation for pillaging and banditry, English just opened himself to most any language he met. There were terrible amounts of Romance tongues in him, and then there were the Middle Eastern languages. For a long time in the latter nineteenth-century, he'd gotten used to English showing up in a burnoose.
English was a dirty little slut when it got right down to it, and yet he still let the other language into his bed. Hngh.