Sick of the Silence [Sivan]

[Destyn]

Sick of the Silence

13 Searing, 121

The young Fae refugee smiled and nodded.

"Look for a book of fairytales. I'm sure you can imagine they are much better in the original Vallasren and they are easier to read because they are meant for younglings." It only stood to reason that the Fae would be an authority on fairytales, after all. Many of the stories that were passed down and evolved to suit the races of Ransera had crossed over from the Everwilds with Destyn's people.

"Yes, can you not tell I am not so forlorn as I was? Well. I mean, I am, but I can be more than my grief now. I can enjoy food and company, and the thoughts that pierce do so not as often. I can be... distracted." He nodded, "And I can sleep. And sometimes the dreams? They are not bad memories. Sometimes they are fond ones where I can be with the people I love again, even though they have left this plane. Dreams can touch other realms, I think." Now that he was a bit soothed of his trauma, it seemed his childlike rambling had returned. Or, for Sivan Sunrunner who had yet to experience it hitherto this occasion, it reared its precocious head.

"Was it tasty?" Destyn tilted his head, birdlike, when Sivan tasted of the insect. "Things that scavenge are full of flavour, but if you like fly you would love cicada. Some years they swarm and it is a feast! They are so slow and dumb and yum." He unconsciously nestled himself closer to Sivan, who was warm and even more comforting than his worry stone. He was, perhaps, the closest thing Destyn had to a tribe, now.

"Do you like living in the city? Or is it just where you must be, as is true for me?"

Sick of the Silence

[Sivan]

"Fairytales for younglings," he agreed with a wry little smile. He hadn't yet mastered the Common tongue of the humans, but if Vallasren bore any resemblence to the other elven tongues, it ought to be easier in some ways to pick it up. "I could teach you some Rivach, if you would like. The Dratori realm is nearer to Kalzasi than the Hytori realm. It might come in handy. Many of them are spiritwalkers.

"I'm glad they help." Sivan was always sincere, whether that was friendly or unfriendly. But he also wasn't a master at processing emotions, so if he could help the lonely Fae'ethalan with his, then there might be hope for his own. When Destyn curled up almost like a child or an animal charmed by his abilities, he didn't look too deeply into it, but accommodated the cuddle, letting his arm drape around his shoulders, mindful of the wings. Flower had been a cuddler too, albeit much smaller and now he was basically comatose. Something would have to be done about that.

"It actually didn't taste like much," he admitted. "Perhaps I was too quick to follow with the fruit. I will try your bugs, though. As long as you don't pull pranks on the uncultured elf." He wasn't much of a winker, but his smile was a little goofy at the joke.

He whistled and Khal came scudding over to shine incandescently above their heads. It was getting darker and the garden only got good light when the sun or the moon was directly overhead. The little fire sprite was good for some added warmth, too; not that he minded the closeness. But he didn't want Destyn to be uncomfortable in his home, and the garden was as much his home as the house it was attached to. He considered the question.

"I don't know if like is the right word? I wandered with my former master, but he was old and it slowed things down. I think it didn't matter where we were, though, because I felt like I belonged. I came to Kalzasi to seek my new master, an old friend of my old master. It was a direction to travel. It is a place to keep learning. I like my little house with the sprites and the garden. It is safer than traveling the wilds alone. I will stay in the city until I have learned enough of alchemy to move on... and then I will decide.

"Do you hate it here?"

[Destyn]

Sick of the Silence

13 Searing, 121

Destyn nodded profusely.

"I learnt much of Common from hearing and reading the Human perversions of our mythos." In hindsight, the Fae youth wondered whether he might not have gleaned more about Human society and culture based on the dark paths down which they took certain Fae'ethalan legends in their versions of the telling. Perhaps it might have better prepared him for their propensity for cruelty. His hand snapped to the stone about his neck and he whirled it between nimble, frantic fingers.

"Yes!" His eyes lightened and darted back to meet Sivan Sunrunner's, "Teach me, teach me!" He was an eager student of the world at large and a mind engaged in scholarly pursuits was less prone to wander toward grim, unalterable realities. Language learning seemed particularly distracting and a great way to stave away idleness of mind.

"You are lucky, then..." He said of the mild flavour of the insect, "You know what flies eat, do you not?" He wrinkled his nose, "You are better off with cicadas, crickets, locusts... Do not eat mantises, though, they are keen of mind and passing loyal to their friends." He bade. "I also steer clear of dragonflies, but just because it seems morbid and almost cannibalistic."

Destyn hummed happily when Sivan draped an arm over him. It was nice to feel protected again, and to know the warmth of lingering affection from someone he'd grown to trust.

"I do not hate it here, per se..." He said, peeking up. "This world of Ransera? All of it is alien to us. I used to think this was not so and that my clan was, uhm..." He searched for the word and came up empty, so he had to string a couple of phrases together, "Overly traditional? Lost in the past? But after what happened to them, I think maybe it was I who was naïve. I am an alien in this land and, I think, the city just emphasises that more than the forests do. I am learning much, but I feel very lonely most of the time." He smiled warmly, "Not now, though." And he snuggled his blond head between Sivan's shoulder and his jaw.

Sick of the Silence

[Sivan]

"It was a fruit fly!" he protested, then laughed quietly at his own vehemence. "Well, whatever anything eats, it turns into shit eventually." But perhaps he would leave insects out of his diet unless a Fae'ethalan offered one in particular. In any case, he mostly listened to the fae creature huddled up under his arm. It gave him a vaguely warm feeling to know that he didn't feel lonely in Sivan's presence, and perhaps even felt safe and comfortable given the affection he showed Sivan as a relative stranger.

Sivan wasn't terribly self-aware in some ways, even though his appearance had always vexed him. His coloring was more Hytori than Dratori, though his eyes were rare among the golden kind. He was bulkier like a Dratori and even if he wasn't some massive warrior, he had spent years doing heavy lifting for his old master, and now for Master Jacun. And he had kept active even as a child, thinking that if he was bigger, he was less likely to be the target of bullying—at least the physical kind. No, Ransera wasn't kind to the outliers, the people who didn't fit into neat boxes, whether that was an elf from two disparate lineages or a creature native to the Everwilds.

He wondered if there was a way to get Destyn back there, if he would even want to go to the Everwilds from whence his people originally came. It was something he could certainly look into when next at the Archives. Even if it seemed likely he would focus on contracts with celestial spirits, he would always feel a connection to the wild. It might be nice to have friends in the Everwild.

"If you visit at night," he said carefully in Rivach, the gestures accompanying the words, "you might see the fireflies dancing. I don't know if you would consider that a feast or a work of art." That said, he glanced at the fae's sharp profile, wondering how much meaning he might glean from that given his mastery of a cousin tongue.

[Destyn]

Sick of the Silence

13 Searing, 121

Destyn giggled.

"Whatever lets you rest when you lay down your head." He feigned suspicion of Sivan's assertion about the species of insect, and wrinkled his nose at the subsequent rationalisation.

"I may be part plant, but I draw the line at being fertilised with manure. I think it is, as a general rule, good for people to not eat shite." He nodded sagely, as he reached for a grape to pop into his mouth, before laying his head back in the comfy crook of Sivan Sunrunner's arm.

When Sivan spoke his native tongue, Destyn tilted his head to the side so his cheek rested against Sivan's shoulder and his eyes darted up to what he could see of the elf's face from this vantage. He listened carefully and tried to piece together what he thought he understood.

"Night visit, um... flame gnats frolicked, uhhh eat a painting?" He wrinkled his nose, "That cannot be right, or... is it abstract poetry?" He pondered the language. It sounded heavier in the mouth than Vallasren, he thought. If it was musical, it sounded as though it came more from the chest than the head, but he couldn't tell from Sivan's musings whether pitch came into play as it did in Vallasren.

"When you speak that, um... Rivach, was it? Mythrasi?" He paused a beat, "Does it matter whether the syllables go up or down? In Vallasren the same sounds can have different meaning, depending on the interval between two syllables. I think that is why people often think we are singing when we converse."

Sick of the Silence

[Sivan]

Sivan nodded. They were in agreement that the eating of fecal matter ought to be anathema. His fine nose wrinkled at the thought.

"Inflection...? I think that is the word in Common. That does change meanings. And that was Rivach, which also... well, a man with no arms can still speak Rivach, but there are gestures that add nuance, as well." He kept with the Rivach as the Dratori lived nearer to Kalzasi than the Hytori did, and two languages might only confuse his earnest student.

"If you visit at night," he said again, slowly and as clearly as possible without sounding condescending, "you might see the fireflies dancing. I don't know if you would consider that a feast or a work of art." Then he repeated it in Common, though it sounded drab and boring to his ears. Then he said it again in Rivach to see if Destyn's ears would make more connections once he knew more precisely what Sivan was saying.

"Will you say it in Vallasren?" he asked when Destyn had worked it over in his mind somewhat. "It does sound musical, but you also have a pleasant voice. Humans say all the elven tongues sound musical. Common certainly does sound more..." He wanted to say percussive but didn't know the word for it in Common. "More like drums. Rhythms and all sharp..." How did one say staccato in Common? "I suppose they are all just different sorts of music in the end."

He popped a few more morsels into his mouth when he wouldn't be speaking with his mouth full. It was pleasant having Destyn here to converse and share food, even sharing closeness and warmth which was rare for Sivan. Well, Flower had clung to him like a vine, but communication had been difficult and then all but nonexistent.

[Destyn]

Sick of the Silence

13 Searing, 121

Destyn considered.

"More, I think, than inflection. More, uhm... specific, but..." He smiled consolingly, "Close! That is a good word." He didn't want Sivan to feel discouraged with his Common, when he hadn't really been using a word incorrectly so much as searching for a term that didn't exist in the tongue he was using.

He nodded, thoughtfully and considered whether this was true amongst his own people.

"I think, when Fae'ethalan present ourselves in so many different shapes, it is less practical to rely much upon gesture. I do not believe our tongue is as coloured by our bodies as it is by pitch and timbre."

Destyn listened, again, to the Rivach and tried to glean more this time. When it was repeated in Common, he understood his prior errors and nodded. He remembered the gist of the sentiment, and slowly translated- pausing at a few points to recall the Common, but emphasising the intervallic shifts in pitch from one syllable to the next where such things applied:

"Má thugann tú cuairt ar an oíche, seans go bhfeicfidh tú na Lampróga ag rince. Níl a fhios agam an measfá féasta nó saothar ealaíne é sin."

He nodded regarding Sivan Sunrunner's characterisation of Common,

"In the forest, where everything is underscored, all feels musical. It is more quiet here, even when it is louder. The city is almost amelodic, except in special places." He gestured around them, "Like here." He dropped the outstretched arm back to his lap, and sighed contentedly.

"It is nice to have someone who understands some and is curious of the rest. Many that I speak to find me, I think, odd and confusing. They think my words are like clouds or fog and that their own are like piercing sunlight. I feel, sometimes, as though I am a pet and I have found a crack in the fence through which I sneak out and see you."

Sick of the Silence

[Sivan]

Sivan wasn't bothered overmuch that he didn't have all the words he needed in Common. There had been enough frustration in Kalzasi trying to learn the language as well as he had that one little frustration wasn't liable to set him off.

"How will I know you if you change your shape?" he wondered aloud, though he knew that he could recognize Destyn's aetheric pattern; he didn't imagine that would change into something unrecognizable even if his physical form did. There was a momentary pang within him at the thought that Destyn would want to disguise himself from Sivan's eyes, though the thought was irrational and he quickly dismissed it.

His mouth experimented with the sounds Destyn had made. Some were near enough to the words in Rivach or even Mythrasi, and knowing the general meaning helped as well. Blue eyes sought Destyn's for approval or correction of his pronunciation as he tried to memorize the little snatch of Vallasren. If he fixed it firmly in his mind, it would be something he could return to, knowing the diction and syntax were correct, and internalizing the musicality of it, as well as the muscle memory. But he would have to polish it like a worry stone every time he saw Destyn, to be certain he drew ever near to perfectly mimicking it. Then it could be a touchstone in his new quest to learn the tongue of the Everwilds.

"Well, you are welcome to sneak into my garden whenever you like," he said. "The sprites are here to help me be a steward for the space, not defenders." He smiled wider than normal, imagining the sprites fending off a burglar or somesuch. Stranger things had happened in Kalzasi, he was certain.

[Destyn]

Sick of the Silence

13 Searing, 121

Destyn tilted his head, bemused at the question.

"Because I would tell you it was me." He replied matter-of-factly. "Also it is a long and labourious process to make changes significant enough that you would not recognise me. Besides..." He smiled boyishly, "I have grown accustomed to my face." He punctuated the notion by popping a date into his mouth.

He listened carefully as Sivan attempted to repeat his translation, and realised he'd spoken it far too quickly and casually without thinking that the elf might attempt it straight away. When Sivan stumbled a bit, he went through each part of the phrase more slowly- explaining the discrepancies of nuance between the Common and Vallasren versions of the sentiment. He explained a few of the words, but was generally impressed with Sivan's endeavours.

"One can tell you are a polyglot." Those familiar with multiple, diverse tongues did tend to be quicker at the uptake of new ones.

"We will work on, what you call, inflection if you are serious about learning my language. Are you musical, at all? Sometimes it is helpful to speak in terms of music, for Common cannot accommodate the specifics of the, um... Intervallic syntax? Even that I do not think is correct, but I hope you understand my intent."

He blinked at the invitation.

"Oh..." He frowned slightly, "Did the Sprites tell you that I was waiting for you?" He flushed a bit, embarrassed at having been caught when he thought he'd gotten away with his well-intentioned stalking. "I am shy. I was afraid if I knocked on your door the, um... A-woh-kahn? The thing you told me about might answer and I think I would be frightened if I was not prepared to see such a thing." He was, after all, afraid of industry and men made of metal were a daunting notion to one whose family was cut down by shrapnel and chemical fire.

"I am sorry for the ruse."

Sick of the Silence

[Sivan]

"It is a good face," he agreed, more an appreciation of an aesthetic than a flirtation. Sivan didn't really know how to do that and it rarely came into his head to try. But it was a fine face—whether it graced the body of an elf, a human, or a Fae'ethalan. He smiled.

They took their time with the phrase of Vallasren, and he had little to no ego getting in the way of his learning process. He had long ago learned to set that aside when there was someone more knowledgeable about a thing willing to teach him. When he became a bit more expert, he might challenge things that sounded contradictory, but this was his first lesson in Everwilder speech.

"Thank you for the lesson," he said. "I wonder if I can speak to a spirit in the Everwild to practice when you aren't around." His smile widened briefly, then settled back into an amiable mien. It was a testament to his quickly growing comfort with the fae that he didn't feel strange sharing food or personal space, but more so that he didn't feel strange relaxing the filter between his mind and his mouth, thinking things through outside of his own skull. "Po-ly-glot. Polyglot." He glanced at Destyn, thinking he understood the word by context.

His eyes widened a little at the flood of admission and apology.

"No, they didn't tell me anything," he promised. "Though I don't mind that you were waiting. You could have stopped at the shop, though, and walked home with me. Well, perhaps it was better you rested your leg while it heals." But he was glad that he hadn't had to show Destyn inside. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he was nervous about anyone around the slumbering IX, and he didn't know how to explain Flower, who was all but comatose now. He would have to do something about it, do a deep dive into the archives and figure out something that would at least slow down the corruption within the other Fae'ethalan. It occurred to him that Destyn might be better equipped to help, but he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"IX sleeps, but I would rather spend time with you in the garden anyway. We are both more comfortable in the greenery, I think."