"Oh my gosh, could you whine anymore?" Mac asked, rolling his eyes and huffing a soft sigh before holding his hands out to the elf. "Give me your hands. I'm not going to keep you here just for the sake of having an easier go at the languages around here," the Guardian replied, chewing his bottom lip briefly before shrugging.
The elf stared at Mac's outstretched hands briefly, large eyes flicking up to both men's faces, searching for some sense in the moment. The back and forth between the two was confusing and conflicting, but Mac seemed intent on letting him go, and if the imbecile was willing to release a prisoner, so be it.
"I don't know who you two are, but you don't make any sense at all," Ilormael murmured, stretching his arms out warily. Despite not believing Mac's intentions, the elf soon found his hands free. Those large eyes stared for several seconds before hands hurriedly worked the other bonds off his body, full intending to sprint for freedom. Mac watched patiently, occasionally glancing at Uldren as though to silently ask him not to interfere.
Sniffing softly and glancing up at the sky, Mac flicked his eyes to the prince and then up, trying to warn the Crow about the weather. There was little need however, because as soon as the elf jumped up to cut and run, a flash of lightning burst across the sky and slammed into the tree several yards away. The sound was terrific, the boom absolutely deafening. Mac was unmoved, watching it all with a peculiar stillness that only Warlock Guardians really had. Uldren would have seen Mac call upon the forces of the storms on their missions, and of course knew that Mac could harness lightning, fire and the void itself when he needed, but it was no doubt always a little eerie to see the warlock - usually so frenetic - being calm and composed in the face of a very real natural disaster.
The elf certainly wasn't prepared, and jumped in the air several feet with a screech, stumbling backwards and scrambling into the shelter without even realizing he'd gone right back into the den of his previous enemies.
"Everyone alright?" Mac asked pleasantly, scooting in closer to Uldren with a lopsided grin. Clearly he was amused by everything.
"I'll just....stay here for now. But don't try anything!" Ilormael snapped, glaring at Mac and Uldren. Fortunately during the exchange and lightning strike, Ghost had time to process what he could of the spoken elvish language. Without a root tongue it took longer, but for a little super computer it was hardly real work.
"You...can stay as long as you like," Mac replied in the elf tongue, repeating words that Ghost fed him. Ilormael turned his head slowly, staring at the Guardian with wide eyes.
"You speak my language?" he demanded, looking ready to fight, though he wasn't sure why.
"Very little. Very very little. I will learn more," Mac replied slowly, shrugging slightly. The words were poorly pronounced, the pacing broken, but it was clear enough to be understood and the elf stopped bristling quite as much, seeing real effort and no longer being threatened or heald prisoner. Perhaps by nature, but not by the strange men who were awfully close, he observed.
Everything Mac said or Ilormael said was quietly translated by the Guardian for Uldren, even if the back and forth was a little tedious. Mac didn't want Uldren left out for any reason and was careful to include him and be clear.
no subject
The elf stared at Mac's outstretched hands briefly, large eyes flicking up to both men's faces, searching for some sense in the moment. The back and forth between the two was confusing and conflicting, but Mac seemed intent on letting him go, and if the imbecile was willing to release a prisoner, so be it.
"I don't know who you two are, but you don't make any sense at all," Ilormael murmured, stretching his arms out warily. Despite not believing Mac's intentions, the elf soon found his hands free. Those large eyes stared for several seconds before hands hurriedly worked the other bonds off his body, full intending to sprint for freedom. Mac watched patiently, occasionally glancing at Uldren as though to silently ask him not to interfere.
Sniffing softly and glancing up at the sky, Mac flicked his eyes to the prince and then up, trying to warn the Crow about the weather. There was little need however, because as soon as the elf jumped up to cut and run, a flash of lightning burst across the sky and slammed into the tree several yards away. The sound was terrific, the boom absolutely deafening. Mac was unmoved, watching it all with a peculiar stillness that only Warlock Guardians really had. Uldren would have seen Mac call upon the forces of the storms on their missions, and of course knew that Mac could harness lightning, fire and the void itself when he needed, but it was no doubt always a little eerie to see the warlock - usually so frenetic - being calm and composed in the face of a very real natural disaster.
The elf certainly wasn't prepared, and jumped in the air several feet with a screech, stumbling backwards and scrambling into the shelter without even realizing he'd gone right back into the den of his previous enemies.
"Everyone alright?" Mac asked pleasantly, scooting in closer to Uldren with a lopsided grin. Clearly he was amused by everything.
"I'll just....stay here for now. But don't try anything!" Ilormael snapped, glaring at Mac and Uldren. Fortunately during the exchange and lightning strike, Ghost had time to process what he could of the spoken elvish language. Without a root tongue it took longer, but for a little super computer it was hardly real work.
"You...can stay as long as you like," Mac replied in the elf tongue, repeating words that Ghost fed him. Ilormael turned his head slowly, staring at the Guardian with wide eyes.
"You speak my language?" he demanded, looking ready to fight, though he wasn't sure why.
"Very little. Very very little. I will learn more," Mac replied slowly, shrugging slightly. The words were poorly pronounced, the pacing broken, but it was clear enough to be understood and the elf stopped bristling quite as much, seeing real effort and no longer being threatened or heald prisoner. Perhaps by nature, but not by the strange men who were awfully close, he observed.
Everything Mac said or Ilormael said was quietly translated by the Guardian for Uldren, even if the back and forth was a little tedious. Mac didn't want Uldren left out for any reason and was careful to include him and be clear.