Daegsatz snorted as he chewed the sweet orange. The more things Roen brought that reminded him of Vylbrand, the more the sadness sank in his heart, though the Roegadyn wouldn't be caught dead expressing that kind of emotion. "Workin' togeth'r? Expect ye ta be married 'fore season's end," he scoffed. "Nay, lass, it not be in me nature ta gossip. Ye want ta learn 'bout 'im, ye ask 'im yerself."Â
He began to peel another orange with one hand as he flipped through the Ishgardian book with the second, squinting at the tiny letters. The Sea Wolf was not illiterate by any means, but his eyes were more used to reading the fanciful titles of nautical charts and market board notices rather than the fine print of volumes and essays.
"As fer family, hah! Don't be spreadin' rumours." A massive gust of air blew from Daegsatz' nose. "'Es not family, 'es a massive pain. Always runnin' after girls an' stealin' silverware. Two gen'rations o' that shite I've 'ad ta deal with, pardon me language. You Hyurs be like drunken mice, always runnin' into walls an' catchin' the ire o' broomsticks." He shook his head as he chewed on the newly peeled orange.Â
"'is father be the first o' the two arses I've 'ad ta repeatedly pull out o' fires. Nearly four decades an' nothin' changed." Daegsatz wrinkled his nose as he nearly brought his eyes in physical contact with the pages on the book. He shoved the open book at Roen, a large index finger pointing at a particular specimen of grandiloquent loquaciousness. "Don't s'pose ye know what that be meanin', lass?"
He began to peel another orange with one hand as he flipped through the Ishgardian book with the second, squinting at the tiny letters. The Sea Wolf was not illiterate by any means, but his eyes were more used to reading the fanciful titles of nautical charts and market board notices rather than the fine print of volumes and essays.
"As fer family, hah! Don't be spreadin' rumours." A massive gust of air blew from Daegsatz' nose. "'Es not family, 'es a massive pain. Always runnin' after girls an' stealin' silverware. Two gen'rations o' that shite I've 'ad ta deal with, pardon me language. You Hyurs be like drunken mice, always runnin' into walls an' catchin' the ire o' broomsticks." He shook his head as he chewed on the newly peeled orange.Â
"'is father be the first o' the two arses I've 'ad ta repeatedly pull out o' fires. Nearly four decades an' nothin' changed." Daegsatz wrinkled his nose as he nearly brought his eyes in physical contact with the pages on the book. He shoved the open book at Roen, a large index finger pointing at a particular specimen of grandiloquent loquaciousness. "Don't s'pose ye know what that be meanin', lass?"
