"More colorful," repeated Godric with a playful roll of his eyes. Color was one thing that absolutely filled his life at every twist and turn. Still, he understood the intent of Victoire's comment and with sincerity did he respond that he appreciated the offer. "I may hassle you with constant, trivial questions, if you do this." The warnig was obviously humorous, but he felt it only fair to let Victoire know what she was signing up for by offering to explain technology to him. "For example -- how do you make films? I know they are some sort of portrait that moves and speaks, many of them combine together, but from where come these story? Have people so much freedom of time and luxury to create this thing?" Godric smiled. "You see? I do not wish to burden you."
When asked about his language, Godric answered: "Your word for the whole of a series of battle is 'war.' We call it 'campræden.' If you want to say someone is wise, or they are mindful, we call them 'ðancolmōd.' Your healers we call 'læce.' To say something is huge or big, you say 'ēacencræftig.' A window is 'ēagduru.' So it is very different. But I understand my language with the time becomes yours, so maybe it is not. The others..." He shrugged. "Rowena taught me when I woke here. Salazar has learn on his own, though I talk more with people, so I think I learned faster," he grinned. "Helga does not seem to struggle."
But his grin dropped off and he frowned when Victoire spoke of her situation. His was not the same, but well and deeply did he know the pain and accompanying sting of loss. His gaze fell away to the side as he drank more of his tea, his thoughts drifting back through time to Sæunn and Goðólfr, to the life they would live without him. After a few moments, to keep conversation going, he set down his cup and met her eyes. "I am sorry. If there is anything I can do to ease this for you, tell me, and I will do it." It did not matter that he had just met her, or that there were hundreds of years, over a thousand years, between them. She was part of a family who had treated him as if he were one of them. She was his student. And he would therefore without hesitance offer his support.
"As for my sister - Morrigan - no, she has never been here. We were with friends in Barcelona when I woke here. I have four siblings who still live -- two brothers and two sisters. We were eleven, but -- such is the nature of my time."