Upon hearing its name, Language turned to face them. Its long form was mostly covered by a long cloak, if that was indeed the correct term for it. It was as if the cloak was formed only by a dark shadow, and included a wide hood, covering most of the spirit's face, save for a pale, glowing blue, slightly-too-wide mouth, and a chin, thin and angular. "Andaran atish'an, da'len." The mouth formed the words but the sounds seemed to echo around them in many voices, all soft, but all different.
"Aneth ara, spirit of Language," Fae responded politely, although 'safe' was not generally how she felt about the Fade, especially in recent events. She glanced up briefly at Language, then away, looking to Solas for guidance. "This is the one I spoke to you about, Language," Solas said, a sparkle in his eye not unlike how he was in the physical Fade. "She could benefit from your wisdom, and I believe it would benefit others too."
"What do you mean?" Fae asked, still not looking up.
Language laughed, and Fae recognised the same wind-chime pitch of it that she'd heard the spirit of Hope laugh during her Harrowing, a lifetime ago. "I will explain in the tongue you are most familiar with, child. I am Language." The spirit opened its arms wide, revealing glowing blue hands from the billowing sleeves of its robe. "Since the first words were said aloud, I have listened to them, observed, remembered. Every tongue you have ever heard of, and all the ones you have not. The words of old Tevinter, dwarven, elven, human, Qunlat. I watched the tongue of trade between dwarves and elves, humans and elves, become what you call the common tongue. Every creature which speaks, that which croaks, or sings, or howls. I know them all, as I know myself. Many have changed beyond their original recognition, and some have been silenced forever, remembered only by me. However, since Solas first made contact with me, he has been a most dutiful student, and I, his willing teacher. As you will be."
Fae was dumbstruck. "That's…amazing. But, are you—do you mean to teach me, as well?" She shot a worried look at Solas. "I would be grateful, truly, but—I cannot spare the time. I'm mortal, I don't belong in the Fade, I belong in the waking world, I can't—I'm no somniari, and I'm certainly no Solas, and I have nothing to offer you in return," she rambles, doing her best not to offend what is clearly a most powerful spirit.
This time, Solas and Language both chuckle. "Though you give yourself too little credit, child, that much is true. But I am not mortal, and all where I tread is my will. And my will is to teach- to preserve the words. Come to me, and you will learn. I will give you the memories your kind has forgotten, that you can know again." The spirit reached up to its hood, and pushed it back, revealing its entire face; a long, straight nose, and above, three identical pairs of eyes, each set above the next.
Fae took a step back despite herself, bumping into Solas.
"It's alright, Faellathi," he said encouragingly, nudging her forward. "You are perfectly safe."
Language approached her, arms outstretched. "Shhh." Cool hands placed themselves on either side of Fae's head, and Language gently guided their foreheads together, sending a surprising flood of warmth through Fae's body from the point of contact. After a few quiet moments, Language released her, and the elf stood perfectly still, unsure of what to expect now. She hazarded another glance at Solas in her peripheral vision, who smiled reassuringly. Fae bowed, still avoiding eye-contact with any of Language's eyes. Now what? Did it work?
Language sighed, turning to Solas. "They would weep to see the children so afraid of us." Wait. 'Da'len'. 'Vhen.' 'Enfanim.' Child. Us. Fear. These were the words Fae had already known, but she had understood the whole phrase. "That was Dalish! I understood you!" she said, so mystified she briefly forgot her habitual wariness.
"More than Dalish. Our original Elvish tongue," Solas clarified. "The Dalish language spoken today is a simpler form of what was once a much wider vernacular."
"I have given you the first step, the knowledge of the words, to understand them when you see them written, or hear them spoken. To speak them yourself," Language ran a wispy thumb over Fae's lips, "will require you to train your physical form. This, you must do in the waking world, with Solas, as it will be your physical tongue which must learn."
"I—thank you, Language. This is… I mean, wow. It's… a precious gift. I will do my best to make the most of it," Fae bowed again.
"You are welcome, child." Language pulls its hood back up over its head. "And Solas? The cacophony of voices grew less gentle. "You will not squander this gift. There must always be those with whom to speak. You understand this."
"Of course, my friend," Solas said softly. "Come, Faellathi. I daresay you have had enough rest, for now."
Fae woke with a start, curled up in a familiar, high-backed armchair. Solas was sitting on the other side of his desk. "Nice sleep?"
Fae covered her mouth as she yawned in response, before standing up and stretching. "I think I might need another."
Solas chuckled. "I think that would be wise."
"I don't think I said this before, but thank you, Solas, I mean it." Fae added, seriously. "Although I'd prefer if you gave me some warning, next time?"
"I'll consider it. Goodnight, again, Faellathi."