Friday, October 27, 2017

Mot'ite Ea'ity

In the darkness, a hand stroked my hair. Warmth held me close, and I sighed into the silence. Moments of peace was few and far between.

"To'un?"

"Shh. Just, be."

I rolled over, which did more to separate us than to give me a good view. The room was dim. "To'un?"

"Why do you call me that?"

"You are young, it means young."

"What language is that?"

"Mine. Nobody knows it but me."

"What good is a language nobody else knows?"

I burrowed against their hand. "I can say things, and nobody else can listen in. And pet names."

"Like Toun."

"To'un." I caressed the back of the hand. "Even I'm not a native speaker."

"What other things am I?"

"Fet'ift."

"I like the sound of that. What's it mean?"

"Relatively more experienced."

"Mmm. Keep going."

"Ea'ith."

"Say that again, ea--"

"Ea'ith. Here, close."

"Ea ith."

"Close enough."

"I like it. What else can you say?"

"Not much. It's not... ready."

"I still like hearing you say things. But enough for now." They pulled me back, and we drifted into a deeper state of Ea'im Fet'o.

The jealousy of a scratched head

absent minded casualties of former affections,
verisimilations of virtuous regret, or
pulchritudinosity, deposed.

lean into it, the lack of touch,
conspire to be held,
don't say, but wonder, quietly,
invitations to be unshell'd.

antediluviate memory,
neither repressed nor foregone,
... and paint the city lateritiously.

Sunday, October 1, 2017

First Meeting

Shellot-a-Lance
a'glanced at I,
and I at Shellot.
a furry shake,
hair, flies, dirt quake,
and grunted Shellot at I.

I sat, a pat upon the plat,
and Shellot stood beside;
then nudged me prone,
a'sideway thrown,
snorts and doesn't shy.

I crouch, a'glance
at Shellot-a-Lance,
Shellot just chewing cud,
innocence and oxen mixed...
weaponized or dud?

Shellot-a-Lance
a'glanced at I,
and I at Shellot.
he stared me down,
'neath shaggy crown,
tension growing taut.

--
Inspired by last night's 5e game, where my party played through "Sun Goes Down With A Ruby Smile." I divided the party, and when they rejoined me, I was having a staring contest with one of the oxen, who I have retroactively named Shellot-a-Lance.