Re: The Cat: Rae and Kratos
Whether he was Greek or Spartan was not a paradox Rae grappled with. He was old, from a time when the language was grainier, when everyone's humanity was a little less civil. A little hot-blooded, but that never hurt anyone - or, rather, no one that counted. She liked country borders. A line on a map could be a wall if you'd the wrong passport and Rae had no inclination of ever having the wrong anything.
He was silent. He wielded it more skilfully than she'd previously given him credit for. Previously, Rae had thought him simply dim-witted. She didn't think so now. She leaned her chin against her palm and waited him out, unblinking, the curl of her smile as feline as the pose. Neat self-evidently referred to things unblemished: Rae liked to ruin things herself if they were going to be ruined and the wine was good, if not fantastic.
"When did you learn to speak it?" Not in Greek, Thracian or Spartan. In Norse. It was a harder language, it took work. Rae, who knew it as well as any baby who had grown up in a tongue, spoke it with the fluidity of a language learned orally, rather than on a page.