#this is VERY freeform dont expect rigid structure sjxjjxsjks

[sunstar121]

I Wonder If They Taste The Ocean

A variety of snippets from one League Bor'duns life, from ages 7 to 21.

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At first, there was nothing.

And then, the sky fell.

It came quickly, without warning, all at once. The ground all around them- the ceiling, the floor, the walls, oh god the support beams- trembled with a fervour that they had never thought possible.

League is nine years old when they learn the Dwarven word for 'Cave-in'.

Screams echoed throughout the mountain, carried by the long, snaking tunnels dug through it. Footsteps- heavy, clunky, Dwarvish- sped towards their hiding spot. Three Dwarves rounded the corner- Althea Strongarm, Brav Kingley, and Julio Garngerra, three of Leagues primary caretakers. The three of them nearly ran straight past the small crook in the wall, but at the last moment Althea looked back. In hindsight, League knew she was just checking to see how close the cave-in was, but they liked to think she could sense them there.

Althea skidded to a halt, back-tracking a bit and kneeling down next to their hidey-hole. It wasnt much- a small crevice in the wall just large enough for them to squeeze into- but in situations like these they wouldnt have anything else.

League, small and bright eyed, stared back at her from the crack. Their hair was a raging mess, betraying just how much stress they felt.

'League, ongra. Voth vurthurkon fjert, mju (League, please. We must leave, now)' She whispered, grabbing them by the scruff of their neck and dragging them out into the open.

'Atur! Atur atur atur! Han's tokir inni thar! (No! No no no! He's still down there!)' They wailed, wriggling around until they were out of her grip.

Fast as a jackrabbit, they took off down the tunnel. Their legs trembled as they ran, both out of nerves and from the impending collapse.

They had to find him. They had to find him. There was no world that they could live in where he wasnt at their side. Their fingers itched with magic, desperate to blast straight through the walls to find him.

The walls had other plans, though.

They started coming down.

Their footsteps were drowned out by the wave of crashing stone bearing down towards them. For a few seconds it was just noise, but then they saw it. It cascaded towards them from the end of the tunnel, rock and wood smashing and splintering upon impact with the floor. They quickly scanned the rest of the hallway, desperately searching for- aha!

In between them and the wave of stone, a small blue creature sat wriggling in the hallway. Its head perked up as League approached, and a tiny black tongue shot out of its mouth in greeting.

Zlavurm. Zlavurm. Zlavurm

League dove, scraping their elbows and knees as they skidded across the ground. Muffin curled around their hand, hissing in delight. They cooed, rubbing a finger down his back in comfort.

Snake. Snake. Snake.

The world shook. League arched their back, tucking Muffin below them in an attempt to protect him.

The world shook, and the sky fell.

A scream echoed through the mines as League Bor'dun was buried alive.

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'Tanook ul'mubar, League! Usstan ssrig'luin ulu xun nindol! (Quit moving, League! I need to do this!') The doctor hissed, her ears twitching in frustration.

League is twelve years old when they learn the Undercommon word for 'Brace'

The doctor was nice, nice enough atleast, but unused to dealing with unruly twelve-year-old Genasi. League wriggled as she slipped the braces onto their arms, expertly adjusting them until they fit perfectly.

It had been three years since multiple nerves were severed in both of their arms. It had been two years since their caregivers saved enough money to get their problem diagnosed. Now, three years after the cave-in, they finally had some help.

League tentatively extended their arms, hands clenching in the air, over and over. The braces themselves were simple; dark metal with a circular joint plate, connected with thin, sturdy strips that kept everything snug. As they moved, small arcane runes lit up on the joint plate.

It felt.... smooth. Like moving before the accident felt. Their arms didnt feel quite as heavy, quite as weak, quite as frail. Their fingers weren't as stiff anymore, and their wrist could actually turn properly.

As they held out their arms in wonder, the Drow doctor chuckled.

'De' heen, nind orn inbal tlu aszid zil dos knan, jhal nind orn tlu bwael whol nin! (Of course, they will have to be adjusted as you grow, but they will be good for now!)' She murmured, checking one last time that the braces were on tight. Satisfied, she gave them a pat on the back and retreated to her desk.

'ᚫᛋᚦᛞᚢ ᛇᚩᚪ! (Thank you!)' League chirped, Primordial rolling fluidly off their tongue. They launched off the exam table, and with a breathy goodbye burst out of the exam room.

Althea startled as they came careening out, excitedly babbling about their new braces. She smiled, and if that smile had a tinge of bitterness to it, she wouldn't tell. League had a long journey ahead of them, and she knew this was only the start.

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17 was not a good year for League.

League is 17 years old when they learn the Primordial word for Idiot Dead Beat Fucking Dad

17 also happened to be the year that League was finally told about their father. Their father, the powerful elemental Genie of the West Seas. Their father, the man that abandoned them with a bunch of Dwarven strangers.

They weren't upset, though. Not at all.

That's why they weren't sitting at the bottom of the river(their river. its theirs), not crying their eyes out, and definitely not thinking about the family they could have had.

How do you mourn for someone who was never really there? How do you mourn when they’re not really gone?

(you dont. you cant. how could you? they're not gone. they're not coming back)

Their mouth burned when they spoke Primordial. They'd known it since they were born, an inherent skill from their heritage (its important, they knew. they wanted to rip it out of their throat)

Their fingers itched when they casted their blood magic. The water parted around their fingers the same as it ever did, but it felt wrong (it will never feel right. did it ever?)

Their gills screamed, their hair tangled, their fins ached and stabbed. Their body tore itself anew (grief does that to a person. sharp fingernails and a deep hatred do as well)

They spent every single moment possible out of the water. The water was their father, the water was their past, the water was their blood. The water was their betrayal. It had been just their luck that their braces needed to be waterproofed again- it had given them a couple days of excuses.

They couldn't stay out of the water forever, though, no Water Genasi can. Their skin had begun to crack, their lungs felt itchy, their hair had started to deteriorate.

One can only keep themself from their nature for so long.

They were not crying at the bottom of the river during their first dip into the water in weeks.

Primordial is a brutal language, grunts and snarls and rough sounds. Primordial also has many, many swears in it.

League finally found the time to practice those words.

ᚻᚪᚸᚢ. ᚠᛋᚱᚫ. ᚦᚠᚠ. ᚣᚱᚫᚸᛋ. ᛉᚩᚫᛋᛤᚳᚻᚪᚸᚢᛤᚳ.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'That'll be seven copper, love.'

Copper. The word for.... money? Yes, the smallest form of currency. Sjetej. Copper. God they hoped that translation was correct.

League slid over seven orange coins, and grabbed a bag of rations and alchemical supplies off the counter. The shopkeeper shifted, his eyes raking over their form slowly.

'Do you.... n-need something?' They stuttered, anxiety bubbling deep in their chest. The shopkeep leaned back, his arms crossed.

'You arent from around here, are you, water lad?' His voice was rough, deep and ragged in all the right places, and made them incredibly nervous.

'No, I am, uh...I am.....' They were blanking, fuck they were blanking. Why was Common such a hard system to learn? 'I... am...... Mountain... born? Mountain born. Dwarvish. From the.. North-West?'

The shopkeep hummed, digging for something underneath the counter. After a few seconds he stood back up, a small bag in his hands.

'Here. You look like you might need these.' He tossed the bag over to them, and they scrambled to catch it.

Inside was four small beads. Each one had a swirling gas within it, squirming and wriggling within their clear glass containers. League looked up, a small look of confusion on their face.

'Those,' the shopkeep leaned over the counter, his tusks shining in the sunlight, 'Are potion components. If you drop one in a base, itll turn the potion into a modified Comprehend Languages spell. Itll only be for one language, but itll help you understand the folks around here better.'

He smiled, and Leagues heart soared. His hair was soft, sorted into delicate braids that framed his face. His skin was a dark, smooth green, his eyes a beautiful dark brown. His clothes were simple, but they draped over his wide frame beautifully.

League is 21, and they have just left their mountain home for the first time.

League is 21 when they learn the Common word for Love.