Dictionary of my Heart

At the beginning, August would stiffen at attention whenever he heard it.

Not a scared stiffen, but an excited, secret one. He shouldn’t get caught being excited, he knew, yet he couldn’t help it. And he wished he didn’t have to hide it.

It was when Ameokk’s knowledge of common wasn’t fluent yet, so when they didn’t know a word they would ask August.

And sometimes, sometimes, he heard it.

Ameokk would mumble something, what August assumed to be the same word in their language.

And maybe it was because they only ever heard the language mumbled, whispered, barely there at all, but he wanted to hear it more. Maybe it was also because it was Ameokk’s language. That was important too.

Important because it was the origin of Ameokk’s accent, the rounding of their O’s and U’s the sharpening of their K’s, the bounce of their cadence. It was in their voice, in their words, in them. It was part of their history, whatever that history entailed.

It was important.

So his heart fell when he realized they were starting to censor themself.

It was a slow realization, a subtle sinking feeling of ‘maybe something is wrong’ until a sudden ‘this is bad’ hit him. Like traipsing down a rocky hill and your foot suddenly being met with the empty air of a vertical drop.

First, it was Ameokk asking him about less words. This made sense, as they learned more and became more fluent, they wouldn’t need clarification as often.

Then, it was Ameokk not repeating the word in their language after asking for a word or phrase.

Then, it was Ameokk cutting themself off mid-word if they said anything.

Then, it was Ameokk’s accent fading away until August could barely hear it at all. Over just a few months. Were accents supposed to fade that quickly? Or at all?

Then,

 August met that vertical drop.

They were at one of the lesser traveled courtyards, the section of the Valencia estate that contained his room. It was partially underground with a ceiling of tangled treeroots that hung overhead, so congested and creaking with weight, that August, when he had been younger, had often worried it would collapse and crush him.

The wall to his left was open air, it opened to the empty^*1 between Daharus and Derrodas. The empty had always been wonderous to him, it was though someone had taken a massive square cookie-cutter to the ground, leaving nothing but air and void in its wake.  Bordering the wall to the empty was a dilapidated stone wall which likely intended to prevent creatures from falling to their death into the void.

At some point, this part of the manor must have been inhabited, otherwise there would be no reason for a courtyard veranda here. That, and there were a smattering of empty rooms in the same hall that held his own room.  Now, however, spiraling lichens and plush coilgrass lined the pathways and walls, overgrown from years of presumably no one upkeeping the place.

It was a nice place, quiet. And he and Ameokk were accustomed to not having many other visitors.

August felt bright as he leaned against the wall, chatting to them about the book he was reading. His words came fast and easy and were answered by Ameokk’s grin, their questions, their gentle teasing.

The breeze from the empty, cold and with a taste of something acrid was an added delight. Down here, August didn’t have to think over and over and over again before he spoke.

Then there was movement in the hallway.

At the hallway’s entrance was a lantern, whose light was suddenly snuffed out. That had been what had drawn August’s eye, that sudden shadow.

Ameokk’s back was to it, facing himself, so August saw before them.

Mother stood in the entrance.

Her black fur merged with the shadows, only her three ruddy eyes piercing the dark.

Before Ameokk could comment on the way August’s face had dropped, the way his tail had curled close to his body, she called out.

“Amek.”

They whipped around, then, as they saw her, cursed softly in their own tongue. “ – Ketet.”

They stood, hurriedly approaching her, “Sorry –  I lost track of time. I can be ready in a moment.”

Mother cocked her head, giving Ameokk an eye that made August want to wilt into a corner despite it not being directed at him.

Then his blood chilled. Because it wasn’t directed at him.

That meant Ameokk did something wrong.

She clicked her tongue, “Amek.”

They seemed to realize now too, that it wasn’t their apparent loss of time that was the current issue. Though he could only see the side of their face, he could tell. Their smile held steady, but their eyes were flickering just so, searching Mother for an answer.

They didn’t find it fast enough.

She sighed. “And you were doing so well, my Kesska^2*.”

She paused, giving them another chance to figure it out.

Ameokk wrung their hands behind their back.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” August watched as their nails dug into their hand. “What did I do?”

“That word you said, we’ve discussed how continuing to use that language will only hurt us in the long run, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” Their hands tightened together, and August’s pulse quickened in time. “We have, yes. It slipped out, I – I’m working on it, I promise I am.”

September smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges, “Don’t worry, my Kesska, I know you are,” and as she stepped forward, her claws slithered against the ground. ”And I’ve noticed, you’ve made so much progress in such a short time Amek, it is truly remarkable.”

Her gaze, which had now softened, was only directed at Amek, August may as well have been a bug on the wall, though he didn’t mind that.

They clicked in affirmation, “Thank you,” and their hands loosened, seemingly realizing they were in the clear, for now.

“I only remind you because I know it is difficult to learn new habits, but the last thing we want is creatures thinking any less of you for sounding beastly^3*. In any case,” she clapped her paws together, “I believe we have a meeting now, don’t we?”

They clicked yes twice, “So you have heard back from the Rkoa’s then? What did they…” August tuned the rest out.

September turned to leave and Amek followed at her side, not sparing August a glance or a wave goodbye as they disappeared into the shadows of the hallway. Which… it made his insides feel twisted up and cold, but he had expected it.

Amek got off easy, acknowledging him wouldn’t be good for them or himself, he knew that.

Now alone, and with Mother gone, August’s pulse began to slow to a normal pace. With it, he was able to reflect on what had just happened, what his mother had implied.

As it fully dawned on him, something dark began to build in his chest, began to writhe.

It was cold at first, almost nauseous. Then hot. Angry. More angry than August remembered being in a long time. As it bled through him, it made his fists clench and his eyes prick and burn.

(Anger had never been something August was allowed. Ignored if not outright punished. He’d learned not to get angry over his own treatment anymore, that was just the way things were. But this? Ameokk. This was different. And August was angry.)

Mother was making Ameokk unlearn their own language.

.