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.

No comments:

Post a Comment