#General Waywordiness

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Into the Caves

(I'm working out a new WIP idea focused on Lyra and decided I might as well just post as I go. No idea how far Imma get but ya'll can be along for the ride, lol)

Context: A bit of worldbuilding as Lyra follows her tutor into a sort of underground area where the maps are kept.

(Previous)

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Lyra followed her tutor down through the carved hallways, grown patches of pillars scattered throughout the area, supporting the domed ceiling high above. They were well below the level of the waters now, the sound outside the building having changed to a sort of dull thud instead of the usual sounds of sloshing movement. The usual scents of salt and seagrass were replaced by still air and carefully cultivated species of plants they used for nearly every purpose on the islands; the building itself was carved out of a giant sea plant they found could support weight, carved and out and reinforced with things like mineral and hardened sediment from the other lands.

Along the way, long tube-like stems and caps bloomed at movement, trained to do so in order to light up the darker reaches, the stems and growths tended to by caretakers that seemed to never leave these darker reaches, dressed in only cloaks with the hoods pulled up and only identified by the antlers that were allowed to poke out from the sides or the front.

Lyra’s ears twitched as her hand went up to her own antlers, prodding at them gently. They had started coming in maybe two or three cycles ago, and it was around then that her more serious lessons with her tutor had started. Right now they were small and grew from her hairline back along her head into a sort of bowl shape, with very few prongs. Easy to cover up. Easy to miss.

She always knew they would come in eventually. Everyone grew horns when they reached a certain age. It was a mark of maturity, she was told, and therefore meant she had to start learning how to behave in a manner worth of her growth.

If she had her way she’d cut them off and pretend she never had them. But no, you’re not allowed to do that. Never allowed to do that. How you grow your antlers, the size and shape of them, how many prongs you have, all of it was some strange indicator of so many things in the world, according to her tutor. How one used their magic. If they were warrior or scholar. High social or lower social, mate desirability, birth origin, and some even believed they could tell someone’s destiny or fate by whether or not your points and antler growth matched up with specific constellations or planet movements.

She glanced back at the hooded ones and peered at their antlers, trying to see if she could read the marks yet, but her tutor merely rolled his eyes a little and tugged on her arm.

“Did you want to look at the maps today, Keroi, or did you want to study the Aimonhb and their Qawn?”

Lyra grunted and quickly sped up her pace to keep up with him. “Do we have to use the formal words for everything? Can we not just call them antlers? The offworlders do.” She paused. “At least, I think they do. Their translators are hard to understand.”

“And should we do everything the offworlders do?” he asked with a sniff. “They who have no understanding of our traditions? Who have no Qawn?”

“They seem to have an okay time with it,” she grumbled.

He sighed. “Keroi, our Qawn are our connection to our world. Our magic. Our way of life. To not have them is curious at best, a curse at worst. They allow us to sense our planet in a way that the offworlders do not seem to understand, that they can make no sense of.”

“They are trying, Qwkas. You must see that.”

He considered. “They are. But I doubt they will ever get there if they cannot figure out how to grow Qawn for themselves. It is not something to learn so much as it is something to feel.”

He paused at a closed pathway, long beads of sticky mucus coated with beads and mineral blocking the way. He reached into his jacket, inside one of the many pockets and pulled out a ring. “But the offworlders are not something you need to concern yourself with anyway. We have arrived.”

She grinned, ears twitching and wings fluttering as he slid the ring on and waved his hand at the sparkling blockage, the thin lines of mucus parting as he did so.

The room of maps.

Her key to the outside world.

Her path to escape.

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And for a bonus, translations!

*Keroi - Child with authority/Princess (affectionate) *Aimonhb - Hidden One *Qawn = Antler/Horn

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

I wasn't gonna do this at first but I figured why not:

Translations!

*Aimoupon - one who eats shit/Telling someone to eat shit *Qwkas - Tutor *Keroi - Child with authority/Princess (affectionate)

Also the next part is up: Into the Caves

The Tutor Disapproves

(I'm working out a new WIP idea focused on Lyra and decided I might as well just post as I go. No idea how far Imma get but ya'll can be along for the ride, lol)

Context: Introductory piece to Lyra, princess/high-ruling noble of a set of islands. She does not like this position one bit.

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Lyra stared up at the open sky, watching the clouds drift on by. She wanted to be like those clouds. Free to soar in the open spaces. Not held down by rules or regalia or circumstance. Free to be whoever and whatever they wanted. Only tugged by the winds.

“Princess!!”

She grunted at the voice below, flicking a pointed ear as she tried to ignore the callings of her tutor. “Princess!” The calls were getting louder as they got closer, Lyra rolling over and grabbing at a blanket to try and cover herself so she wouldn’t be seen.

“Ah, princess!!”

“Aimoupon!!” she shouted, to which her tutor let out a gasp.

“Princess!” he chided. “Language!!”

She pushed the blanket off herself and sat up, crossing her legs and looking down at him from where she sat. “Don’t fret at me Qwkas. It’s just a word.”

He frowned, rubbing at one of his ears as it quivered. “And where did you happen to hear this, ‘just a word’?”

She flitted her wings as she waved a dismissive hand. “Just…around.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would it happen to be down by the waterfront?”

Her wings flitted again.

“Conversing with the workers?”

Her ear twitched and she flicked it.

“Where you’re not supposed to be?”

She frowned and folded her arms. “My family rules these islands. Doesn’t that give me the right to be wherever I want to be?”

He sighed. Rubbed at his ear again. “Of course it does. But the way of the outlanders is not our way and they must be held to station…which doesn’t include talking with–” He stopped talking, Lyra twitching her ears as she realized she was making faces again, mouthing the words with him. She smiled as the tips of her ears flickered up and down.

“Sorry Qwkas.” She forced the words out, knowing that she would get in trouble if she kept it up much longer. It’s just that she’d heard the same speech a hundred times before and it never changed.

Her tutor crossed his arms and stared at her for a moment. Motioned for her to come down, her wings fluttering as she lifted herself from the soft top of springy perch and flew down gracefully to land next to him. He sighed and brushed a bit of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“You are the youngest in a long line and a large family,” he said softly. “If you cannot learn to behave properly, the world out there will do more than lecture you. I am simply trying to prepare you so that does not happen. Are you so intent on fighting me, Keroi?”

She frowned a little at the name. The affectionate and yet proper title to address her as. Ever proper, her tutor. Even in affection.

She folded her arms. “No,” she finally admitted. “But can we do a lesson we haven’t done before? Please? I’m tired of the politics and the manners and the estates. Tell me something interesting. Like maps. Or food. What do the outlanders do for fun? Are there games they play?”

He frowned a little in thought, glancing at the bound copy of notes in his hand. “I suppose…we could look at a few maps. You’ll need a better idea of where you’ll ultimately be going, at any rate.”

Her wings flittered in anticipation. Yes. She’d managed to talk her tutor into teaching her something interesting. World maps were something they’d covered briefly, and he’d dismissed them before. But they fascinated her, thinking of all the places she’d never been. Hopefully places she would get to glimpse on her way to being bound for life at the feet of an outlander noble.

And, hopefully, some place she could disappear into. Escape the tradition of shackles. Well and truly be free to choose her own path, princess or not. Surely there was a place out there that could meet her needs. Surely.