Dictionary of my Heart

Ketet: a swear

Tejak: sing

Tuyyan: sorry

Kuom: loud

Ja: signifier to make something more

Vettuj: red

The rain came down in drumming, angry torrents.

And despite the forewarning Ameokk had given her for the weather, September’s ever-straight posture held a sharpness that threatened to cut if she heard one more unfortunate word.

Her evening plans had to be canceled, creatures hadn’t wanted to travel in the dangerous weather.

They were alerted to these cancelations through the dozens of mothi^*1 that somehow made it through the downpour, their cloth bodies, which had soaked up the water like sponges, flopping heavily onto the perches and dripping puddles onto the tiles of September’s office.

Ameokk, July, and June helped her to read the letters. They had been gathered two hours before the event to go-over the trade details and who each of them should talk with, what they should discuss, how they should act. But September’s level tone had been interrupted by the slap of mothi wings against the windowpane.

Once the first came in, it was followed by others. Ameokk’s fingers became slimy and chilled as they fished out letter after letter from the soggy things, unwrapping the papers from the waxy, waterproof material they were swaddled in.

With each letter opened September stated something along the lines of ‘perfectly understandable, with this weather’ yet her voice only became more and more caustic.

As Amek realized he was not going to be released from September as soon as he had hoped, his core sunk. He told August he would visit with him after the festivities had wrapped up. It had been a lunch event, so they would have been free by six at the latest…. But now…

September’s voice rattled in their ear, and they listened enough to know when to say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘perhaps’.

They didn’t think they’d even be able to slip out of her attention to send a mothi to August, apologizing for getting his hopes up.

Amek worked into the night, the moon was high by the time September deemed their plans “good enough” and he crashed onto his bed, mind aching too much for another thought.

He’d meant to find August in the morning, but was woken up by no other than September, and dragged into another event. She was excited, it was an exciting good opportunity. He could tell in the way she had patted his back, swung his arm in hers just so as they walked, the fiery glimmer in her gaze. But Amek couldn’t find it in himself to smile genuinely. The grin pulled at his skin with a tightness that felt unnatural, though he knew it didn’t look so, and his own voice sounded reedy in his ears.

It shamed him throughout the day that he had forgotten to send a message to August. But once he realized, exhaustion weighted so heavy on his shoulders the thought of bringing up a pen to write seemed insurmountable. He got to his door, and fell into his bed once more, though it was only the middle of the day.

It was still raining. The noise was a low growl, as if a beast was wrapped around the Valencia manor, angry that it couldn’t get in.

Though Amek wished nothing more than to retreat permanently to his bed, he went to August’s quarters and knocked on the door with much less strength than usual.

If August wasn’t there, he would go to sleep. After a moment of waiting, the door opened, and August let him in.

August told him of his books and what he’d been working on for a time. Amek asked questions and smiled, though it was an effort. He hoped August couldn’t tell it was an effort. He wished it wasn’t an effort. Truly, he wanted to know, he was just tired.

At some point, they lapsed into silence. The room was chilly, particularly with the rain, and they had August’s comforter over both their legs. With his thumb and forefinger, he played with the frayed edges of the ratty thing.

 In the depths of Valencia as they were, the storm sounded less like a tumult of rain and more like a distant groaning, the weight of the roots above them creaking under the stress.

A particularly drawn out creaking, near mournful sounding, drew both their eyes to the ceiling.

“…Araverej” The word slipped out of him.

August trilled in question. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Araverej. It means, storm that never ends.”