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 

The cold stone of the corner bit into his spine as he pressed himself into it.

“Great hokking going, Aenhasvus. Bet you really impressed them.”

The heat in his cheeks felt like a brand. With July’s words, he relived the moment.

Their stares. The way he had tripped over his own tongue. The way he had froze.

Still now, he was frozen.

A low rumble built in the air, a threat. It mixed with the scraping of July’s spines against the tiles.

“Hokk off.” Ameokk’s growling thickened, the muscles of their back tensed and their talons bared. As they turned towards him, their voice softened, “Let’s get out of here alright, Aenhas.”

Feeling disconnected from his body and his mind, he was distantly surprised when his palm connected with Amek’s shoulder as they led him away.

The fur of their primal form was short and coarse on the skin of his fragile form.

Behind them, July’s tail lashed on the walls.

“It’s embarrassing for everyone when he shifts out of nowhere,” July’s voice echoed, “If he knows he can’t control it then you shouldn’t bring him^1*.”

Beneath the cottony weight of numbness that had begun to overtake him, a hot matchstick of shame burned in August’s stomach.

A snarl cracked from Ameokk’s throat as he turned.

The noise cut through the air.

It made August’s pulse spike, made him want to curl away. He didn’t notice how July did curl away, his fur fluffing at the noise as one startles when a glass shatters.

Before Ameokk could make things worse, August tugged shakily on their ear and pushed at them, the opposite direction to July.

Though still growling, after a moment, Amek listened. They both continued forward.

Continuing forward was a nebulous task. August was not paying attention to how his feet moved one after the other. Luckily, his feet, his muscles, his tendons, they seemed to move on their own.

The clap of his shoes and the clink of Amek’s talons did not seem to match their steps.

Blurs of color, that’s how the paintings in the halls appeared. He normally liked looking at them, but he could not tell them apart now.

August could hear his body breathing. The air felt like a solid thing in his chest.

It seemed a long time had passed when Ameokk’s voice suddenly split the air.

“Kheekjak. It means sibling. That’s what you are to me, Aenhasvus. My brother. There’s not a word in stormspeak for brother though, or sister.”

Though he heard and understood the words, a surprise by itself, they only confused him further. Had he missed part of the conversation?

Kheekjak. Sibling. Yes, that’s what they were. Despite everything.

Ameokk continued. Now he was able to recognize a possibly tight edge to their voice. He couldn’t identify the emotion.

“Yamkheek means… false-sibling. Someone you’re raised with but don’t consider family. That’s what Daarvus^2* is.” After a beat, they added, “He’s also erttusha, asshole, waste of space, someone who’s a pain to be around.”

It felt as though there was a barrier between August’s mind and his body, he wanted to feel something but he was too far.

 Three words in a row, that has not happened before.

August didn’t know what to do but thought he should do something, he did like getting words, and he knew it was hard for them sometimes to do so.

He patted Ameokk’s back twice.

Ameokk’s paused. When they spoke, their voice sounded fragile, “Thanks, Aenhas.” They bumped him with their muzzle. “Are you… you’re coming back yet?”

Coming back yet. No, he was still far away.

He didn’t respond visibly or audibly.

“N – no, okay. That’s okay.” They cleared their throat, “So you see, what I’m saying is never listen to what Daarvus says. Because you don’t listen to erttusha, they have nothing worthwhile to say.”

As they both turned the corner, he recognized the patterning of roots of the walls and felt that barrier lessen, felt himself perk up just slightly. They were nearing his room.

“Although I suppose erttusha translates more to… ass-mouth than ass-hole. Because everything an erttusha says is shit, you see.”

It was something about how serious they said. A noise left him, barely a whisper of air, and it surprised him just as much as it did Amek. August had huffed in amusement.

A beat of silence passed.

Then, he heard the smile in Ameokk’s voice. “Right? Fitting for Daarvus isn’t it, ass-mouth. I say that’s exactly what he is, erttusha.”

As his eyes met the door of his room, and Ameokk opened it, letting them both in, August vaguely felt as though he was vibrating out of his skin. His room was safe, and he could go to his bed, he wanted to go to his bed.

The comforter was plush under his palms.

Sitting down, he was glad he had sat down (when had he sat down?), his legs were weak as wet paper.

Ameokk’s voice was in his left ear. “…do you want me to go or stay?”

Stay. (August’s hand twitched, but did not rise)

“If you…” they sounded small. “Can’t respond right now, I’m going to stay until you can, at least. Okay? Sorry if you don’t want that. I don’t want to go until you can… respond to things.”

Slowly, and so tentatively August didn’t register it for several seconds, Ameokk’s hand folded over his.

It was warm. (Skin, they must have shifted at some point)

It was nice.

Ameokk continued talking. Not more stormspeak words, but whatever thoughts crossed their mind. They filled the silence and gave August’s mind something to latch onto, a rope to follow so that he could meet with his body again.

While they talked, their fingers intermittently tapped the back of his hand. That was another rope.

Eventually, he moved his own hand.

It was difficult, the way joints stiffen and don’t listen to you well after being out too long in the cold, but his hand did move when he told it to. And the more he moved it, the more that barrier between his mind and body thawed.

Slowly, he flipped his hand palm-up, and loosely held Ameokk’s.

They halted their ramblings. “… Aenhas? Are you with me now?”

He struggled for a moment, then nodded. His head felt heavy, it was hard to get it back up after he bowed it.

They squeezed his hand. “That’s great.” And the relief was so thick in their voice it made him want to lurch away. “Do you want me to stay or do you want to be left alone, either is fine.”

Still, he tugged on their hand lightly.

“Stay?”

He nodded. He wanted to curl away.

Yet when Ameokk turned toward him, opened his arms, just so, in a quiet invitation, he did the opposite.

His head ducked under their chin, and their arms circled around him.

He should curl away. Go away.  But Ameokk’s arms were warm and kind, and they held him like he was deserving of being held.

If he could speak he would say he’s sorry.