Humans were not built to speak Silurian. Some sounds were utterly impossible for them to produce without the precision only a forked tongue tip could provide and, in general, their tongues were too short and thick to ever speak the language fluidly; at least not without a decidedly... mammalian accent. Besides, in Victorian London no ape would even have the opportunity to know such a language existed, let alone acquire the means necessary to learn to speak it.
So, when a young Jenny Flint stood before her and announced she had a surprise; the last thing even the Great Veiled Detective had expected to receive was a nonsensical collection of words, phrases, and expletives recited in her native language.
Unfortunately, Jenny had taken her Mistresses stunned silence for one of revulsion, or perhaps even anger. Fearing she had overstepped her bounds, the former match girl had begun explaining herself at a rapid pace; about how the French language book she'd gotten for her birthday had given her the idea to learn Silurian and how she thought it could be useful on missions – amongst other things.
The young girl had managed to work herself into quite a state before Vastra recovered.
As the older woman rose from her chair Jenny went rigid and completely silent, her shoulders tense and eyes cast down, ready for admonishment; be it verbal or otherwise. It pained Vastra to know that, even after so much time, Jenny's first instinct was to expect violence.
Yet, she could not fault Jenny for being cautious; she'd given the human no reason to think that learning Silurian was a good idea.
Beyond a handful of words Vastra used when there was no English equivalent she had never bothered to speak, or explain, Silurian around Jenny. She sometimes would speak it to herself in private, as a comfort or a coping mechanism, but she'd never thought Jenny might have been listening... let alone learning!
A small part of her knew that if her sisters were still alive they would have insisted on slaying Jenny where she stood. An ape learning their language? It was an insult, an outrage! But a larger part of her knew that they were gone and Jenny was still here.
In their few years together Jenny had proven herself to be different from the other apes of this time; she was cleaver and observant, a skilled warrior cadet, and an invaluable guide to the unfamiliar world of Victorian London.
No, Vastra was certain that the girl before her held only good intentions; she had meant no disrespect for prying and had a valid reason for wanting to learn the language. Jenny had proven herself to be diligent in her tutorage and would likely take well to the new subject matter.
Decision made, Vastra slowly extended a gloved hand and cupped it beneath Jenny's chin, tilting the girls head upright until brown eyes met blue.
"Jenny, do you have any idea what you just said to me?"
The young girl, whose face still burned red with shame and whose eyes fought back tears, merely shook her head as Vastra smiled.
"Well then, I'll have to change that."
And so their lessons began.