Arcanic

Arcanic is like a window to your soul.

Or, to be more accurate, it is like radio broadcasting all your thoughts and intentions into sound. Tangible sound.

Arcanic has weight.
The words rests on your tongue and you can feel it in the air when you speak it.

It cuts, it embraces, it's fiery, it's chilling.

It's a living language. Expressive and honest.
Forever intertwined with feelings and emotion.

There's a rawness to it, a vulnerability that not everyone is comfortable showing.
And perhaps that's why most Arcana are hardy and stoic.

Some Arcana conceal themselves, hiding behind practiced facades.
They keep their emotions under tight lock and key and fervently hope that the language doesn't betray their truest feelings.

Other Arcana welcome it with open arms.
There's a certain sort of lightness and innocence when you don't have to worry about lying all the time.
The openness of emotion helped create empathy amongst the populace.
It brought people together, helped each other understand.

And Cori, it seems, belongs to the latter.

---

Cori first heard Arcanic when it streamed into their mind.
They had jumped, startled by the voice that seemingly sounded out of nowhere, was open their mouth to call for Booker.

Then the book floated in front of them, holding up its ribbon marker as if to signal for them to stop.
Cori heard the words again, a calm, soothing repetition they could only just make out as reassurance.

At this point, Cori didn't understand words.
They had tried to mimic sounds they've heard, but only achieved messy blunderings.

The book mumbled another string of words, then pointed to itself and said a single syllable.

They did not understand words or sounds, but they, at the very least, understood that the book was a friend.
"Jher."
It said, patting itself on it's jeweled cover.

"Jher."

It touched them on the head.

"Cori."

Now that was a sound they think they understood. That was them.
So the book must be saying...

Cori reached out a tiny hand, and rested it against the diamond sigil of the book.

They opened their mouth, and hesitated, concentrating very hard to form the shape of this sound.
And with a loud exclamation, they blurted out:

"Jer!"

---

The next person who spoke to them in Arcanic was Booker.

It took a while to adjust to the fact that his kid is speaking very fluent magic runic.
And it took even longer to teach them the first language of the country.

Cori glanced down at the old, tattered children's book in their hands, and looked up at Booker with a mixture of nervousness and expectancy.
Booker huffed, and read:
"T-est fhou est darvk-hou, the fox fell down." He clarified, and quickly Cori tried to ingrain the common words into their head.

"Ann teh ra- aaven..." The curve of their accent was still heavy and awkward in the tongue of commons, and they found themselves struggling to pronounce it.

"The raven." Booker put in helpfully, and Cori tried again, this time clearer.

"The raven..?" They didn't mean to ask it as a question, but when Booker nodded they couldn't help but smile at his approval.

Slowly, but surely, both of them forged on, speaking in both Arcanic and commons in hushed whispers, until the sun set.

---

The third had been Ferdalia.

They have always been fascinated about Cori's ability to speak Arcanic, and while they also corrected and taught them commons whenever the chance arises,  Ferdalia seemed happy to indulge in the runic language.

"It's not all the time I get to speak Arcanic." They said, when Cori asked them why they used to language around them when both spoke in commons. "I don't want to get rusty."

Ferdalia's accent made the language feel more smooth then it actually was.
Words slipped off their tongue so easily that it sometimes made it hard to catch.

Jer listens, appreciatively. Cori tries to understand what they've been saying, but it was filled with slurs and jagons they have never come across.

"It's a dialect." Jer tells them silently, as Cori appeared more and more confused.
"I myself haven't heard this form of Arcanic in years. It's also very informal."

"Where did you learn it?" Cori asked politely before Ferdalia could go into another spin.

Ferdalia paused to think.
It looked like they wanted to say something, but changed their mind about it.

"University." They said finally. "It was a requirement if you wanted to work under the court."
"Then I traveled to an Arcana settlement and stayed there for a while."

"What was it like?"

"Magical." Ferdalia shrugged. "Things are a little dated when it comes to technology, but their command over magic is phenomenal."
"Good, proud folk. They take to you easier if you speak their language."

Cori pondered over this.
They've heard of the Arcana, an older race of humans descended from the Golden Age.
It has piqued their curiosity, being the only other group of people whose first language is Arcanic.

I wonder if Jer was part of that. They thought. The book hovered silently beside them.

"I'll be nice to visit one day, I think." They said finally.

---

As they grew up, Cori found themselves talking mostly in Common.

Arcanic, while their first language, was just plain exhausting to speak in.
Conversing in it sapped at their magic, and while in short bursts it was fine, it just...was tiring.

Even so, some jokes only worked in Arcanic.
Some swears only worked in Arcanic, too.

"Aat test estshv!" They yelped, the harsh words shooting out of their mouth.
The forest floor suddenly rushed up to meet them.
Cori felt the blinding white pain lancing up their leg before they had processed that they've half fallen into some pit trap.

It hurts.

Cori gingerly pulled themselves out, well aware of the sensation of needles stabbing into their ankle and the rustling of steps as their friends rushed to check on them.

Zero mutters something about 'people needing to use floating magic' before asking if they were alright.

Cori gave him an unsure grunt.
They tried to stand up, but when they put weight on their injured foot pain shot upwards like lightning and they staggered.
The two (and Jer) started towards them as if ready to steady Cori, only relaxing when they righted themselves.

"I think it's twisted." They mumbled miserably.

This sucks. They didn't want to slow the team down more than they've already done.

Alaric clicked his tongue, though it sounded more out of sympathy than annoyance.

Cori just felt worse.

"Sit down, and we'll check on it." He beckoned them away from the hole, and they flopped down on the forest floor, Alaric kneeling beside them.

They worked off their boot and socks, cringing despite themselves when they saw the redness of their ankle.
It was starting to swell.

Someone, they weren't sure who, drew a sharp breath.

"That's...definitely sprained." Alaric said, starting to fish something out from his pocket.

Cori carefully slid their fingers down their leg, wincing when they touched the injured area.
It felt hot, and it hurts and this entire situation is dumb.

They're supposed to be capable!
How can they expect to save their land if they get defeated by a hole?

Cori felt hot, frustrated tears burning their eyes.
They rubbed it away quickly, but not before the others noticed.

//i can't write too much more because these aren't my characters,but im hoping the exchange later goes like this between Alaric and Cori:

"So, what was that thing you yelled just now?"

"Huh?"

"Aateshiv or something."

"Oh, it's...a swear?" Cori's a bit sheepish.

"Didn't think you were the swearing sort."

Cori hummed thoughtfully."It's not really vulgar. It's kinda like "what the heck" except...more..."They grasped for an explanation."Just. More??"

"So, like 'fuck'."

"Eeehhhyyy I don't think so."