Dictionary of my Heart

Ketet: a swear

Tejak: sing

Tuyyan: sorry

Kuom: loud

Ja: signifier to make something more

Vettuj: red

Araverej: forever-rain, or rain/storm that seems never to end

Yamnay: flyer, friend, companion 

Kheekjak: sibling

Yamkeek: False sibling

Erttusha: and insult for a mean person, ass-mouth

Ummak: art, collage or combining

Korkemkers: mind-splat, meditative diary

Kesuvkortyaa: storm spirit, beings of storm

Avkretymet: creatures, dim-er in keyaa

“You – you don’t have to do this fighting, do you?” August followed after them down the corridor, the unsheathed claws of his paws clacking incessantly against the tiles. “Some of it, I know, because you –  you’re Kirjnhas now but –  this seems – “

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s – ”

They stopped to face August, whose gaze was locked onto their arms. Onto the scarlet gashes that lined them.

Despite some being half scabbed already (though there was a warm trickle of blood down their elbow) August was looking at them as if they’d gotten their arm ripped off instead.

“It’s not fine!” He reached out almost to touch, but merely hovered. “At least go to Garvey, please. It’s…“ August continued but Amek didn’t pay any mind to the words, all they could see was their eyes, so wide and golden in the dim light as they flicked between their face and their wounds.

He looked as he did when he was trying to convince someone of something. They supposed he was, in a way.

His voice, tight and worried, raked against their ears. His tail was thrashing, a rare sight.

A disconnected, curdling feeling built in Amek’s core. It felt acidic and thrashing, barely contained in their chest as it was.

They wanted him to be quiet. They wanted him to stop talking.

“Metermaery”

As intended, the sudden word stopped August’s spiel. “Wha, met, what?”

They pointed to the wounds, and their voice was steely, but the worst part was they couldn’t find it in themself to care. “They’ll disappear, all of these, in two days tops. I’ll be no worse off. Disappear, that’s what Metermaery means.” Then he added, an oily grin forcing itself onto his face that didn’t match the sound of his voice, “One of the perks of being a storm spirit, you know.”

He was hoping a word would distract August, maybe get him off all of this, but that was a stupid hope.

For some reason his gaze only hardened. “Okay so they’ll disappear, that doesn’t mean you should… duel others for no reason –  just because the wounds disappear doesn’t mean they you know, that it all goes away.”

That horrible thing in their core thrashed.

They stepped towards him. “That is precisely what disappear means, Aenhasvus. It goes away.”

Now closer, the sight of August’s eyes on their own pierced through him. They wondered if he could sense that thing in their core wishing to lash out. They wondered if it would be better for both of them if they let it.

What Amek said next, It was cruel, but he wanted to say it because he knew no one would understand.

And he didn’t say it with the careful enunciation he normally gave August. The words were more spat than spoken, a mishmash of noises that no doubt sounded as beastly as others thought storm spirits to be.

They stepped into August’s space. “Teranha keutasetab moserjs-an bha metermaery, hos erkserant-bham." Then, a bitter mirth crept into their voice. "...Oju veran mosekk-bham, bommubat-an^1*.”

“I don’t. I… “ Those golden eyes blinked, wide and wavering, and his tail tucked around his leg. He looked as he did when their mother went on her spiels, and suddenly, Amek felt ill. “I don’t understand.”

Though they knew that, and said it knowing that, now they wished they had never opened their mouth.

“I know. Listen, I’m tired, can we drop this.”