simulsimul | another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

[Odd. It isn't every day non-Irish sorcerers fall out of the sky over Ireland.

The language isn't one Skulduggery recognises, though something about the intonation sounds familiar. That isn't strange. Many languages he doesn't know sound familiar. It's difficult not to hear everything at least once when you're over four centuries old.

What is strange is that, apart from that vaguely exasperated sigh, the stranger doesn't visibly react. He doesn't speak English, and he's dropped very painfully into the middle of an English-speaking country. That should be enough for at least a little bit of confusion, or, more likely, pain. Instead the man sighed as though he'd only encountered a mildly annoying obstacle in a foot race and then gone blank.]

Dtuigeann tú seo?

[Do you understand this? Stranger things have happened than time travel.]

[Hmh. That language sounds like something Sylvarant had used before the worlds had been split, yet not enough to recognise. It would be a nuisance if they'd have to go through a full round of the stranger figuring out that Kratos wouldn't be able to understand anything he said, regardless of the language. And there's still something strange about the man's mana.

[No. There's no point in wasting the time. Instead Kratos shakes his head and moves forward, his steps the steady, inexorable sort of a man who's rarely had to be concerned about anything. He does make sure to remember to breathe, and he turns most of his senses back on as he goes. The temperature, it proves, is not precisely comfortable, so he keeps that turned off.

[As he approaches the stranger, he can see more of him from the streetlights beyond; and the sense of wrongness increases. The man's features are human enough, but there's something about the texture of his skin which doesn't seem quite alive -- like Tabatha. And his eyes don't focus, and his hair is ... not the kind Kratos would expect from a man who wears what is obviously formalwear. It's unkempt. The closer Kratos gets, the more he feels like the shift of mana is nothing more than a surface illusion.

[Well. Either he fell into the right street, or the extremely wrong one. Something not quite alive is blocking his exit.

[Kratos's pace doesn't waver, as if the stranger isn't even there. He's waiting to see the man's response to being ignored.]

Edited (another thot; and again) 2016-12-17 03:02 (UTC)

[Clearly, the only reason Skulduggery's being ignored is the language barrier. That makes it less of an offence to pride and more of a mystery to solve.

He doesn't try to stop the man from walking past, even stepping out of the way despite the distance not quite necessitating it. But he does follow. The cloaked woman was a petty criminal and a simple job; a lone sorcerer in Ireland who doesn't speak English or Irish is much more interesting.]

I'm going to keep talking, if you don't mind. The problem here is that Ireland isn't in the best position to defend itself, and there are certain people -- not upstanding citizens like yourself, I'm sure -- who might try to take advantage of that. Naturally, I'm a little suspicious of new people. Let's start with the basics.

[He points to himself.]

I'm Skulduggery Pleasant. Call me Skulduggery.

[He points at the man.]

What's your name?

[Well, at least the -- man -- let him past. It's still more than close enough for Kratos to feel the strangely weighted sense of shadow and elements (firewindwaterearth) in balance. He'd been right, too. The only movement in that mana is on the surface, like oil with still water underneath.

[Kratos's back itches with that ... man ... behind him, but thankfully that doesn't last, and Kratos turns his head just enough to see his new companion out of the corner of his eye. It's unfortunate that that's necessary, as Kratos would prefer to be able to take in the sights around him; but he'll manage.

[The buildings are much taller than anything in Tethe'alla in the modern era -- even taller than Kratos remembers from the Kharlan War. Anything which had been so high back then had been skyships, ungrounded. It's fairly clear, also, that the streets are delineated between pedestrians and vehicles; Kratos had seen those machines moving at speed through other streets. This one is silent and still.

[And the air is -- awful. Not even magitechnology had done this to the atmosphere; though its effects were, perhaps, far worse.

[The language sounds more familiar the more the man rambles on, in the construction and intonation. Kratos catches the motion the man makes to himself, and it's fairly obvious the intent behind it. Kratos debates for a moment, then concedes. He is here for the experience, after all, and even if he'd rather not have this thing behind him, keeping it friendly is probably a better idea -- for now.]

Kratos Aurion.

[Communication without language is, despite common knowledge, entirely possible. Difficult, and requiring more than a little creativity, but certainly possible.]

Kratos?

[Just to confirm. Not every culture handles family names the same way, and not all sorcerers choose their names the same way.

'Kratos', if memory serves, was the Greek god of strength and sovereign rule. Pronounced just differently enough that it's entirely possible the similarity is a coincidence, but still. Not exactly the best name to put Skulduggery at his ease if he's worried about an attempt to take Ireland while the country is largely defenceless -- and he is. Greedy people do stupid things.

Next up: magic.]

Are you an Elemental or an Adept? [He demonstrates the question by snapping his fingers and generating a small flame in the palm of his hand, then snuffs it and motions for Kratos to do the same. The question should answer itself, hopefully.]

Edited 2016-12-17 03:42 (UTC)

[A nod is confirmation for the name, and then the majority of Kratos's attention is drawn by the flare of fire-mana and the flame that appears in the man's hand. It's such a minuscule thing that it's fascinating; the control and finesse that would have taken in Aselia is unheard of these days.

[So the people here can use mana -- and in such a different way. Kratos remembers, a very long time ago, being able to do such things; to light fires and clear air with subtle uses of mana. Not anymore. He hasn't needed those domesticities in so long that he isn't even sure he's capable of it anymore.

[Even still, he's curious to try; and if there's any kind of mana he'd be able to manage it with, it would be either light or lightning. Best not use light, hereabouts -- he wants to keep his wings concealed for as long as possible. Lightning, though ...

[Kratos raises the hand between them, where it would be blocked from casual view by their bodies, and pushes into it the gentlest thread of lightning-mana that he can produce. It crackles across his hand and arm and -- unexpectedly -- it arcs to the street-light they're passing. The bulb flickers and Kratos closes his hand, cutting off the mana.

[Interesting. That reaction suggests their technology is powered by electricity.]

[There's a couple on the corner who turn at the cracking sound, but they don't see anything beyond the streetlamp flickering. Skulduggery spares them a glance, then decides that might be enough magic demonstration until they're somewhere more isolated. There's only so much mortals can be convinced to overlook.

Control of lightning he's seen before, but not quite like this. Lightning Dave controlled it easily while it was still in his hands, just like Elementals could easily control fire before releasing it. Kratos seemed surprised when it arced to the streetlamp. Either something had happened recently to tamper with his control, or...

... well. It's the elusive alternative explanations Skulduggery is most interested in.]

You're not supposed to answer a question with more questions. That's rude.

[Kratos. Could the man's language be Greek, or Latin?]

I need you to speak a little more. I don't know how to ask you that in a way you'll understand, but odds are it wouldn't matter. You strike me as a very taciturn fellow.

[He pauses briefly to consider; then:] Dicere?

[Speak, in Latin. Maybe it'll be similar enough to the root word in whatever Kratos speaks.]

[There's something so incredibly Yuan in Skulduggery's tone that Kratos can't help but cast him a glance of deep amusement, for all that it hardly shows on his face. It's the level of affront; Skulduggery's is less sharp, but so easily tuned to offence for minor reasons.

[But Kratos is more interested in the couple ahead of them, and the intersecting street which appears to have more in the way of movement -- more mana-signatures, more of those vehicles racing by. From what he can see in the distance, his clothes aren't out of place. He had begun to wonder whether the level of formality in Skulduggery's dress is the norm, but the two men in the distance are both wearing trousers and buttoned shirts similar to what Kratos is using, if lacking the extra belts Kratos wears around his thigh and shoulders.

[He ignores Skulduggery's rambling until the pause, and the single hopeful word which indicates Skulduggery is trying, once more, to actually communicate. The shape of the word is intensely familiar, but wrong; like it's almost a cousin of a word Kratos does know. Still, if he assumes there's a relation ... Hmh. Kratos throws him another impassive glance.]

And what is it that you plead?

[Well, that worked. But the language isn't Latin, so it probably won't continue to work. It's not Greek, either, at least as far as Skulduggery's very limited fluency informs him. Curiouser and curiouser.

There is, however, a possible solution. He shrugs to show he has no idea what Kratos said, then holds up a finger -- wait -- and points it at the ground -- stay. That taken care of, he pulls out his phone and dials Ghastly.

It does not actually occur to him that Kratos might not know what a mobile phone is.

The call takes about a minute. Ghastly, after grudgingly forgiving Skulduggery for calling him so late at night, says he isn't sure if he has any magical translation-related artifacts in his family's Vault, but he'd be happy to join them and find out at a more civilised time. Skulduggery thanks Ghastly and hangs up. He debates the wisdom in calling China and seeing what she knows as a more immediate possibility -- the woman never seems to sleep -- but that would mean involving China Sorrows. Things haven't gotten quite that dire yet.

If only Valkyrie were available. She might be just as clueless, but at least she'd make Skulduggery feel a little more competent by comparison.]

I have a solution, but not until the morning -- not to mention no way to explain it to you. I don't suppose you have ideas you feel like obliquely sharing?

[Skulduggery's gestures are fairly obvious, at least, and the communicator he produces explains at least a part of the numerous (so very numerous) random transmissions Derris-Kharlan had picked up. Kratos watches for a moment, but the communicator doesn't seem to be much different from some of those Kratos has seen before. He turns away to examine the nearest street-light instead.

[Closing his eyes, he extends his mana sense around him. He can feel the dense population present, of a kind he hasn't felt since before the worlds had been split. Thrumming between all those mana-signatures is his sense of light and lightning. He can feel both, and yet -- neither are being powered by mana.

[It's incredibly strange, and incredibly off-putting, being able to feel the mana in the power produced without being able to sense how that power is being produced. Kratos shakes off the feeling to open his eyes and put a hand on the street-light so he can read it from a closer viewpoint.

[This is much more familiar; its circuits run on wiring not unlike raybits, but without the mana charge from an exsphere powering them. Instead the lightning-sense extends deep into the ground, where it becomes lost in the lightning charges flowing to everything else. There's no way he can trace it to its source in that din.

[Still. Something has to charge them; and apparently it's not a localised source individual to each device. He should probably avoid using any lightning mana, if the whole city is powered this way.

[Skulduggery's voice makes Kratos turn again, and he tips his head. The man just insists on talking, though at least that's going to increase the chance of Kratos understanding the language with any speed. They have as much time as Kratos wishes to use, to investigate this planet; and Kratos intends to be as thorough as is safely possible. What are the odds that humans could evolve on two different planets, even ones so near to each other?

[He may as well further his chance to communicate. Kratos takes a step away, indicating the street-light, and saying the word out loud in the hope Skulduggery will repeat it in one of his own tongues.]

[In a roundabout way, that is an idea. It's certainly better than anything else Skulduggery has at the moment.]

That depends on where you are. In Ireland --

[And he stops. Talking more is not actually going to help, here.]

Streetlamp. [A pause.] Streetlight. Lamppost.

[The lack of familiarity indicates either a very third-world upbringing or something more magical in nature. Skulduggery's beginning to suspect Kratos was Shunted here from another dimension. That possibility doesn't make him more trustworthy, but it certainly makes him more interesting. If the Irish Sanctuary was still in one piece, Skulduggery would probably have a duty to report this.]

[A chatterer. This will be interesting; Colette and Lloyd were Kratos's first experiences with chatterers in a while. At least Skulduggery, being obviously older, is aware enough to know when talking isn't useful.

[The repeated words makes Kratos let out a tiny huff of exasperated amusement, however. He can hear the similarities, but how many words does one language need for a single object, even related ones? It's ... oddly wonderful, actually. It's been such a long time since Kratos has had the need or space to indulge in the use of language. Even that had been co-opted by Cruxis's goals, with the need for angelic.

[It reminds him of his long-ago days, standing on a stage and sparring with his cast-mates in an escalating medley of verbal rhythm.

[It was so very long ago.

[Kratos repeats those words, and then starts walking once more toward the street at the end, pointing to the pavement under his feet.]

Pavement.

[This could get very confusing very quickly.]

Pavement.

[But Kratos didn't seem to mind more than one answer very much, and he looks a little more animated now than he did before. So, with a smile, Skulduggery goes on, a short pause in between each word.]

Ground. Sidewalk. Floor. Earth. Concrete. Cement.

[What's the harm? Either, by some miracle, this is actually useful to Kratos, or it'll help to pass the time until --

-- what? Kratos is going to need sleep, and if he's an abductee from another dimension, chances are he doesn't have a hotel room. Not that Skulduggery could easily ask if that's the case.

They've reached the end of the street now, with the department store around the next corner. The Bentley's parked in a multilevel car park beyond that. A group of young children across the way are singing Christmas carols, competing with the music drifting through the open doors of the department store.]

Do you have a place to sleep?

[Skulduggery accompanies this question with both hands together under his tilted head, to pantomime 'sleep'.]

[That's a great many words. Possibly most of them are not actually applicable to the path on which they're walking -- but Kratos can find out, easily enough, by using the road as a comparative base. At any rate, Skulduggery seems to enjoy showing off his breadth of knowledge.

[When they reach the end of the street Kratos pauses to take in the surroundings. The vehicles coming from the car corner slow as they reach the corner with the open doors; and he can see where one exits a ramp down that end and turns toward them, slow at first then speeding up as it leaves the area. The lights on the corner change colour, and the vehicles slow to a halt. So this mode of transportation has rules behind it; that's somewhat reassuring, at least.

[But they're extremely loud as they pass. Kratos doesn't wince, but he does dull his hearing somewhat, to take the edge off the roar of the vehicle. It makes it more difficult to hear the singing across the street, but Kratos intends to get closer. Even still, judging by the strings of lights, and the singers, and the tree he can see in the window beside those open doors -- combined with the low temperature he'd noted previously -- it's fairly clear there's some kind of winter festival occurring.

[Kratos sets off toward the open doors, but pauses to glance at Skulduggery. Then he shakes his head, accompanying the motion with a verbal denial. He isn't sure whether Skulduggery is asking him if he's tired or whether he needs a place to sleep, but the answer is the same, regardless.

[Then he points to the road in which the vehicles are moving.]

Road.

[That makes things a little easier. Now they only need to pass the time until Kratos starts showing signs of exhaustion. Skulduggery doesn't mind that; he's spent enough of the last five years being unable to move forward on anything while he waits for Valkyrie to finish whatever she happens to be doing at the time. Waiting on other people describes roughly 40% of his undead life.]

Road. Street. Asphalt. Drive. Crosswalk. [He glances back a little.] Intersection.

[Then, on a whim, he makes a broad gesture indicating all the buildings, the people, the entire area around them.]

Dublin.

[Kratos seems headed toward the department store. That might pose a small problem; Skulduggery's used his magical facade for almost half an hour now. China was very clear on the time limit. Somehow, Skulduggery thinks losing his false face in the middle of a crowded shop would be a terrible idea.

Then again, he has stretched the time limit before.

Then again then again, that resulted in his facial features drooping right off his skull.]

[Kratos repeats those words to himself to ensure they encode in the cruxis crystal. Pity none of them overlaid the ones Skulduggery had used before. The sheer depth of vocabulary here is inefficient and incredible; Kratos can only imagine how Raine would react to it.

[Dublin. That sounded different to the others; more like the non-Sylvarant language Skulduggery had used earlier. And the sweeping way Skulduggery indicates their surrounds -- well, it's hard to tell whether he means the whole city, or just the nature of the avenue down which they're walking. Given the similarity to that first language, Kratos guesses he's referring to the city. Interesting, the difference; bilingal nation, at the very least.

[They're within range of the singing children, now. Kratos pauses by the window and can't help but smile at their happiness and the way they're bundled up in scarves and coats -- though not any more than would indicate they're used to the temperature.

[Then, as frequently happens, Kratos remembers that he missed this era of Lloyd's life, and his smile fades into an impassive kind of melancholy. He turns instead to the window to look at the lettered bunting hung behind the glass, and the decorated tree inside. There's sparkling ropes and baubles on the branches, and wrapped gifts at the base, and at the top --

[Kratos's eyebrows shoot up and then pull down in a frown nearly immediately after. There's an angel on the top of that tree. Turning to Skulduggery he points and asks:]

Angel?

[Skulduggery's been watching Kratos while they haltingly communicate. So far, the man's been strangely difficult to read. It's not that he doesn't have facial expressions, because he does -- albeit rarely. He'd smiled at the carolers. It's more that he has expressions, and... that's it. No tics, no fluidity, no chaos of even a minor nature. It's like he lets the experience of one emotion end before he has another one.

Because of that, all Skulduggery sees is the smile, and afterwards, nothing. There's no in-between, no hints as to what the smile means or what it's connected to.

The frown is the first time Skulduggery gets an inkling of anything deeper beneath the surface, and even then, he can't be sure. Fear? No, that's not right. Anger? No. Irritation? That's a little closer.]

Angel.

[He's frowning in return, but with curiosity.]

You don't like angels?

[For a single dizzying second Skulduggery's forcibly reminded of the Faceless Ones and their aspirations to godhood. But he's never met one who looked even remotely like an angel -- and unfortunately he's met quite a few of them.

He looks at the top of the tree, then back at Kratos.] Maybe you've had bad experiences with angels. [This is mostly muttered to himself.] You don't look like you're scared of them, though. You look more like someone's brought up an annoying acquaintance you don't like. [Head tilt.] Do you know angels?

[There's something there, something that makes sense, but Skulduggery can't quite put his finger on it. Talking out loud sometimes helps.]

[It's fairly clear that Skulduggery isn't talking to Kratos for most of this, but those times where he does, the questions are obvious. The word for 'angel' definitely features, with a slight shift in consonant which suggests some additional form of sentence construction.

[But Kratos doesn't know what the questions are -- and he doubts that he'd be willing to answer them even if he did. Of all the times to arrive on another human-inhabited planet, and it has to be during a religious winter festival where angels feature. He is definitely avoiding pulling his wings for as long as possible.

[Kratos returns Skulduggery's look with an impassive one of his own, and then turns to the letters in the bunting, pointing at them.]

What's the script?

[It looks similar to the common tongue, for which Kratos has some mixed feelings. Mizuho's language is complex, but he could have used symbols to encompass whole concepts right about now. Individual letters are going to take longer.]

[Skulduggery finds the questions about angels more important, but he has to admit that it'll be difficult to get answers to those questions when they're still unable to understand each other. So he files the information away for later, lets his subconscious mull over it, and turns to the glittering bunting.]

Merry Christmas. [It's a little hard to miss how some of Skulduggery's earlier enthusiasm has now faded from his voice. He really, really does not like Christmas. A beat, and then he points to each letter in turn, naming them as he goes.]

Merry. [He smiles, and points to his own face.] Christmas. [And he hesitates, looking around, because how on earth does one go about describing a holiday without words?

He should really see about getting out of public soon.]

[Skulduggery's discomfort is fairly impossible to miss, particularly the sour note in his voice he reads the sign. Not that he can blame the ... man; given the little Kratos knows, he's not too happy about the occasion himself. It's fairly obvious, regardless, the name of the festival. Now that he's listening, too, the word 'angel' seems to feature a disproportionate amount in the song the children are singing.

[It's the individual letters Kratos wants, however, and those are what he mouths to himself, ignoring everything else.

[Then something in Skulduggery's mana flickers and Kratos glances toward him again. The surface movement of his mana-signature seems changed -- sluggish, like a chipped exsphere leaking mana. For an instant he can even sense the spark of mana-charge on Skulduggery's collarbones. So that's the source of the surface movement. What would happen if it fails?]

Do you need to do something about that?

[Kratos points, without touching, at Skulduggery's collarbone.]

[Now that's impressive, and Skulduggery makes no attempt to hide his surprise. The facade is still fairly new in sigil-crafting circles, at least to his knowledge; and no one else in this dimension has his unique circumstances. Picking out where the disguise originates from?

Kratos can summon lightning, possibly see magic, and definitely crack pavement. Crack pavement after falling a good distance. On top of that, he has strong feelings about angels.

There's an answer half-formed at the back of Skulduggery's mind, and he's honestly not sure whether he wants to be right or not, so he doesn't ask.]

It's a disguise. A -- hm. [Without a demonstration, this is going to be very difficult. Not to mention, at this point, Skulduggery isn't sure a demonstration would be wise even in private. He's not completely sure why, except that if he is right, then being dead might be some kind of personal offence.

He's probably not right.]

I'll show you later. It might be easier if we can understand each other first, and my friend might have a way to help us with that.

[Skulduggery glances at his watch.]

Although necessity might say otherwise. Come on. Let's see how well you handle being inside a car.

[And Skulduggery walks off toward the parking garage, making it quite clear he's expecting Kratos to follow.]

[Kratos waits patiently for Skulduggery to finish talking himself around to a conclusion, and follows as Skulduggery moves off further down the street. They have to pass the singing children to get there; and although the song is different, Kratos recognises the word 'angel' from this one too.

[He just can't escape his angelic nature, it seems. More to the point, how could the concept of the same being, even to the point of looking similar, cross solar systems? He might have thought the elves responsible, except that the elves had existed long before angels came into being.

[Skulduggery leads him past some store-fronts, and by chance Kratos looks in the window. It seems to be a children's store, given the bright colours; but it isn't until Kratos spots books and stationery which are clearly to teach children their letters that it occurs to him there might be something inside useful for figuring out the language.]

Skulduggery.

[Kratos waits a moment for Skulduggery to turn and then points to one of the books. There are children's books in the window, but deeper into the store he can see thicker tomes which indicate there are books for adults as well.]

I don't suppose you're willing to loan me some currency?

[A bookstore. Is Kratos a reader, or is he hoping the books inside will help him learn how to communicate? Probably the latter, and it's not a bad idea.]

OK. We can't browse for long, but --

[He stops again. Did he have the foresight to leave his usual disguise in the car? Hopefully.]

Tell you what.

[Skulduggery pulls out his wallet and counts out the cash he has left. Enough for three or four books, maybe, provided the books aren't large hardcovers. Kratos seems smart enough to work it out, at any rate, so Skulduggery hands him the cash.]

Go ahead and spend it all at once. I'll be back.

[To illustrate the point, Skulduggery points at himself, then his collarbone, then the car park down the street. Then he points at Kratos, holds up a finger in an echo of his earlier sign for wait, and points at the store.]

Understand?

[The currency is nothing like Kratos has seen before, and he fingers one of the notes dubiously. It's easy enough to see the denominations, at least, though that doesn't tell him how many adds up to each note. The few coins are at least more familiar, though when he feels out the sense of them, he can tell the mineral is not particularly pure. Still, pure enough that there's nothing much he can do with it, mana-wise.

[Certainly nothing like the gald he has in one of the pouches on his belt, at least. Gold is a rare enough mineral on his own world; now he has to wonder whether it's similarly rare here. It's for the best that he doesn't need to find out.

[Of more interest is the fact that, apparently, the sluggish mana seeping from Skulduggery's collarbones is a rather urgent matter. If Skulduggery is dead underneath, then -- what will show once that illusion wears off? Likely not anything that should be seen in public.]

Yes.

[Kratos nods once with the affirmative. Sometime he'll need to get those words from Skulduggery. For now, though, he moves to enter the store. It isn't much like the stores he knows; the sheer amount of paper in this place is enough for a library on its own. If the people on this planet are as literate in text as they are in radio transmissions, spirits only know how many books there might be. The Sages would be beside themselves.

[He isn't wrong. He spends some minutes wandering around, lost among all the books and no way to tell what is what. Finally he finds a bookcase with books written in a script which looks very like the language of Mizuho, save that none of it makes any sense. There are other scripts there also -- various of them look familiar in a similar way, though some of them are only similar to languages long dead.

[It's while Kratos is sorting through these that a woman in a uniform appears to greet him cheerfully with the 'Merry Christmas!' and ask a question. Given that the colours of her clothes match that of the store, Kratos assumes she's asking if he needs any help.]

Yes. I don't understand your language.

[And he isn't sure how he's meant to ask her for a book to teach him the script. Unless -- Kratos pauses, and then beckons the woman, and takes her to the children's book in the window. He points to that, then to himself; her face lights with comprehension, and she takes him back to the bookcase where she'd found him.

[It takes significantly more time than Kratos could have wished, but he's patient as he leafs through the books she puts in his hands. Several times he has to point toward the signs and repeat 'Merry Christmas' at her to ensure he has the right language, since it seems there are many with the similar lettering.

[By the time Skulduggery returns, Kratos only has one book which looks as though it suits his needs -- a thick book of words -- and it certainly isn't going to help him learn the script or the grammar. The woman, to her credit, is being remarkably patient with him.]

[When Skulduggery walks into the shop, he's wearing a thick scarf wrapped around the bottom half of his head, a pair of large dark sunglasses, and a very fuzzy wig poking out beneath a hat pulled low over his brow. It draws more than a few strange looks, but the important thing is that not one inch of his face is visible. He'd get much worse than a few strange looks if anyone realised why he's thin as a rake.

The store's a little bigger than it looks from the outside. When Skulduggery finds Kratos and the sales assistant, there's a small pile of books on top of a display near them, and there's that particular air of determined frustration around the woman while Kratos examines what looks like a dictionary.]

Kratos, there you are. Having a bit of trouble?

[The sales assistant looks relieved.]

You speak English?

Yes, I do. Sorry to leave him here on his own. I had an emergency. [Skulduggery looks over at the dictionary.] That's not going to be very much help, I'm afraid.

[The assistant sighs.] I know. I've been trying to figure out what language he speaks so I can get him something useful.

That's not going to work. I don't think he speaks any language we know.

What?

It's a long story. [Skulduggery thinks for a moment.] You'll have to pretend he's a child. An exceptionally intelligent child, but a child nonetheless. Do you have any picture books for learning the alphabet?

Uh --

And a thesaurus, come to think of it. He might find that useful.

[The woman frowns at him. In lieu of being able to give her a reassuring smile, Skulduggery simply bows his head.] Please.

another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

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