Dictionary of my Heart
Ameokk tells August various Storm Speak words over the course of ~9 yrs, despite September urging (conditioning) them to forget them, and despite their own twisted emotions over many of them. Part of them wants to forget too, but half in guilt and half in spite, they refuse to. August helps.
Author's Notes
CW: gore?? body horror-ish injury. there's puss and writhing bits and whatnot.
x
Aug is 15 and amek 17 here
Koryerm: but he held on
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
Metermaery: disappear
“Come on, Ameokk,” Garvey held one hand over their shuddering chest, “breathe with me.”
August was clutching one of their hands with both of his own, and Mother was sat by Ameokk’s head, brushing back their hair occasionally.
Their hand was hard to hold, but he held on. It was slippery and almost uncomfortably hot to the touch, but he held on.
He held on, but he couldn’t look.
Their body was melting.
“They’re destabilizing,” Garvey breathed, “Hokk. Hokking hells.” Quickly, he turned and grabbed two crystals placed on the stool behind him. “I’m giving them a keyaa infusion. But I shouldn’t have to.” He briefly glared at their mother, “Sedaervus, you can’t keep overworking them like this.”
Garvey was one of the few creatures who could truly make September look small. “I didn’t know – he – he should know his limits.”
“Well clearly he doesn’t.” Garvey was readying the crystals, scratching off a spell onto a piece of paper and then wrapping it on to them. “and,” he snapped off the darker ends of the crystals by swiftly whacking them against the table, making August jump, “as his Rershasudd, I should think you would know his limits. Aenhasvus, unbutton his shirt the rest the way as I say the spell, won’t you.”
He clicked yes and gently dropped Ameokk’s hand to do so while Garvey began to cast.
Ameokk had been delirious and glassy eyed this entire time, but as August began to unbutton his shirt, he spoke.
“Wha – at’s…? Aen’as?” His voice was in pieces, and August held back the tears welling in his eyes at the sound.
“It’s okay Ameokk," his own voice wavered, "you’re okay, Garvey’s gonna make you okay, just hold on.”
“…Ko – Koryerm.”
August blinked, “What?”
“Koryerm…” His voice became fainter as he struggled to get in any air for breathing, let alone speaking. “means… core hurt bad.”
His breath hitched, throat burning as he desperately tried not to cry. Why was Ameokk giving him a stormspeak word now of all times.
Then he made the mistake of actually glancing at Ameokk’s chest (he had made a pointed effort to only focus on the buttons while unbuttoning).
Just before Garvey covered it with his hand to commence the spell, he saw it.
In the center of Ameokk’s chest, his skin was a sickly blue. Keyaa overexertion pustules were clustered in purplish lumps, some joined by streaks of wormy, distended veins. And as his chest shuttered with whistling breaths, the whole mass shifted. Because his skin, his skin was moving not like skin but like a thick liquid, like sludge.
It was only for a second he saw it, maybe not even that.
But the image stayed behind his eyelids for the rest of the week.