[FIN] [Matori] This Land Is Your Land [Sajah | Xewai]

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

This Land Is Your Land

A swell broke against the sand.

Over the white-yellow sand, sea and seafoam skittered up with the CCRRRrrrrrrssshhhh… of impact, bold and then fizzling with the retreat and leaving an immediately-drying imprint in its wake. Sajah sat in the dry sand, his toes on the wet, feet bare. Watching the repeating pattern — the swell, the approach, the break, the roll, the reach, the fizzle, the retreat, and the sunlight that danced over all the waves in the distance — he found it all as mesmerizing as it was strange.

‘Adjustment’ meant more in practice than it had in concept.

He hadn’t realized it then, but on some level he had always assumed that it would be simple: Matori was home, his people’s homeland, his homeland, and though he had never visited it, the moment he arrived there, he would feel at peace. Like he belonged. Because finally, he would belong.

And yet.

He curled his toes against the dampness, watching the way the sand moved when wet—the way the water pushed out under pressure and left a small ‘dent’ when he pushed before immediately filling back in when he relaxed his feet. Everything here was new. Everything here was alien. The people, the houses, the atmosphere, the air, the smells, the food, the sea, and even the sand was different. And it was not even that he disliked any of it. As compared to his prior circumstances, it was everything he could have hoped for and imagined: safe, beautiful in its way—and free.

But, it was not home.

Not yet.  

[Kapoodles]

"Blessed be the sea, our goddess, our caretaker, our mother... Blessed be Ubeli’ae, from her arms we came, to them we will return." An amazing feeling of relief came over Xewai as his finally managed to finish his morning Prayer. How many weeks had it been since he was last able to do so before the sea itself? Standing on a rooftop in Oba and praying towards the east where the sea lied would never be the same as standing on the end of his own pier outside of his small hut and praying before her in earnest. He loved his home, his tiny hut and dock, and the sea that kissed it on all sides. Nothing would ever feel as wonderful as that simplicity he found while finally home.

With the sweet blessings finally leaving his, Xewai felt as if he could do anything! The realization of what he accomplished, the knowledge that he was actually able to SAVE people FINALLY registered in his mind. It took a bit of time once they were home free to come home. Not only was his magic still kinda new to him, he had far, far overexerted himself to the point of knocking himself out cold for a few days. Now he was recovered and well and just amazed and astonished and relieved that he and his wards had made it. There were some rocky moments but he NEVER once thought they would fail.

That being said, there wasn't really much time to rest. He had already rested way too long for his own comfort! There was work to be done! They would have to make sure they were feeling better, and then find something they could do for the village to help them 'earn' money. Sure, if they really wanted to take some cash and go, they were more than welcome to, but many seemed much more willing to work, maybe learn a proper skill and THEN make their way out into the world. Xe was already thinking of how he could teach them how to fish, how to hunt small game that lived on the beach, and maybe even how to fight properly. Then again, fighting wasn't always his strong suit, especially when it came to knives, which Sajahka seemed to prefer. Or maybe it just happened to be an item of necessity; Xewai hadn't really had the chance to ask him face to face.

Speaking of such a man, Xewai beamed to himself as he saw him near and waved.

"Good morning!" He called out to the man standing at the shore not too far from where he had set out. The staff he carried always dragged behind him in the sand creating a long line that led from his front dock and down the path he set off on, quickly disappearing as the waves came and left the shore. It was only an hour or so past sunrise, and after the long trip they had gone through he really didn't expect anyone to be up at this time, let alone one of his wards.

"How are you doing this morning? Couldn't sleep for long?" Xewai was more than familiar with the man's lack of speech, so he patiently waited for an answer. There was sand, right? He could definitely write in that. Especially the wet stuff that their feet were sinking into.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajahka’s attention snapped up at the voice.

Not wholly unfamiliar, but new enough still that it wasn’t until he spotted the source that recognition clicked. He rolled his shoulders after, settling in his position and waiting where he was. He hadn’t anticipated Xewai approaching, but perhaps he should have, from what little he knew already of the man’s temperament. When the man came up to stand beside him and ask questions, though, he pursed his lips.

The man knew he couldn’t speak, and had not learned his gesture language, which left him only with—what? To write, which he did poorly, in the sand, to answer small talk variety inquiries. He grunted, shrugging. Good enough, would have to do.

After a pause, though, because the man was there and lingering and he did have questions of his own, Sajah supposed it was worth it to ask, and leaned, tracing into the packed and damp sand:

feel better?

The man had slept for days.  

[Kapoodles]

Xewai hadn't really expected Sajahka to start writing in the sand. He had figured, maybe a thumbs up or a shrug or nod or something along those lines would have been enough to explain how things were going. But this works too! Certainly, his writing wasn't the best, but hey! He wrote in sand, which was difficult in itself, plus he knew his own hand writing was awful, so it was all aright. More than alright, considering that he was even bothering to spend some time with him! More than a few refugees were quick to anger and attack when approached, due to how bad their suffering had been. It was easier to talk to them when he was small and cute, but now... Not so much.

What surprised him even more was that the man had bothered to ask HIM how he was doing. How kind that was!

"I'm doing well! I feel much better finally being home. My morning prayers aren't the same when you can't actually see the ocean. It's like this HUGE weight was lifted off of my shoulders when I could finally thank her for the successful mission." It was strange to still call it a mission. His task wasn't finished yet. He hadn't found himself able to clean his hands of the two that were his to protect. He didn't want to.

That being said he wanted to spend more time with his temporary charges. If he could get a better feel for who they were, how they felt, what they thought, then maybe he could find something that would be easier for them to do. For now, his stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves. Sheepishly, he looked off to the side for a moment, then back at Sajahka.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet today? If you'd like, you can come visit my home, right over there, and we can eat! Maybe we can try to think of what you'd like to do with your day, if you haven't already decided."
 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajah watched the other man speak.

Animated. Excitable. It was as though his whole body and expression spoke with him when he did, contributing liveliness and spirit to the already bouncing words, and Sajah felt a sliver of his initial irritation shuck away—like an old skin eased away by the rub and ebb of new surf. Clearly, Xewai had not meant to impose. He was simply one of those, so bubbling with words and a need for society with others that he engaged at a heartbeat’s notice.

Sajah breathed out, turning his attention to the horizon. All things in perspective, he did owe the man more than he cared to admit or dwell on. Despite the rockiness of ‘mission’s’ execution, they had made it all, alive and breathing, with all their limbs and parts—or at least all that they had begun with at its outset—and the man deserved some credit for that.

He perhaps even owed him Nyko’s life.

Brow furrowing at the thought, he pushed it from his mind and looked back to Xewai. Breakfast was a more welcome idea than he anticipated. To be invited into the man’s home, however—his gaze wandered that way, down the beach to the small hut indicated—well, he couldn’t refuse, could he?

And besides, where was the harm?

He stood, pushing up from the sand and dusting it from himself and his clothes with a shrug and a nod.  

[Kapoodles]

There really were so many things that were surprising Xewai when it came to Sajahka this day! The man really didn't seem like the kinda person who wanted any company at all except for Nyko's. Which was understandable, but to have him accept his breakfast invite, that was MORE than a little surprising.

"Fantastic! I have a some fruit, and a good bit of sweetened ground meal that you can put it in. But if you'd rather something else, I could catch a quick fish or two, and we can cook them over the fire, with a bit of flatbread. I think I still have the flour for that... We can decide when we get there." The urge to take his hand and lead him there was quickly stomped out after patiently reminding himself that this wasn't a child or a young person who would appreciate his touches or ramblings. And though the walk was a short one, he felt like the silence between them should be field, though it wasn't any fault of Sajahka's.

"Please, feel free to stop me if I start getting annoying. I tend to talk and talk and not think about it. Oh, also, if you don't wish to come in, that's fine too. I can whip up something and then bring it out, and we can sit on the dock and eat it." The very last thing the earnest young man wanted to do was to make him uncomfortable, but to him, his little hut on the ocean was the LEAST uncomfortable place in the entirety of Matori!

"Well, here it is! Come on in, or sit outside, up to you, my friend!" From out of the sand, a set of wooden planks appeared, rising up until it was a good six feet off the ground, creating a dock of a bridge that lead to a large rock formation. several yards out into the ocean itself. It seemed that the rock had once been several jagged ones that stuck out far out from the water, but one had been flattened enough that a small shack was built on top of it, with one wall of it being the face of another rock. It was impressive, in the sense that it someone had taken the time to actually sand down the large boulder so that something could be placed on top of it, but other than that, it wasn't anything specially. In fact, it was A few sizes smaller than the huts that were back in the village. Maybe two people could live here relatively comfortably, but not much more than that. Perhaps the only thing that seemed a little weary about it was that a single corner of the home was supported by a trio of smoothed down trunks, bound together with rope as thick as as Xewai's forearm. But it was sturdy, and there wasn't even the smallest hint of it weakening any time soon.

Immediately upon arrival Xewai made his way into the hut, quickly wiping his feet on the pile of leaves and stones making up a pseudo mat before he actually entered.

"If you'd like a writing utensil and some parchment, there's some on the table right here. I was writing some letters and a report when I was half asleep but none of it makes sense, so you can write all over the back of that."

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

After years of silence, Sajahka was accustomed to ‘awkward’ pauses. He drew a variety of reactions from those around him, ranging from abject discomfort and unease — ‘second-hand guilt’ in some circumstances as though they ought to feel bad for speaking since he couldn’t or tilt the conversation around his handicap in efforts to overcompensate — others simply found it bothersome, irritated by the extra bar to communication and the burden of making that extra step. And some simply talked endlessly. As though he did not have any handicap or, in the alternative, as though it was just as natural as not having one, and letting whatever conversation they saw fit roll forward.

That was generally Sajahka’s preferred variety. While he was certainly accustomed to quiet, he enjoyed listening to others talk, and it was stifling when someone treated his inability to contribute — at all or at least as quickly — as a deterrent to conversation entirely.

Thus, as Xe rambled on, subtle details of his posture relaxed. His hands found their way into his pockets, and his eyes stayed on his company, taking in all the body language that accompanied his chattering. He was certainly an excitable man. In spite of himself, he felt the muscles at his mouth pull minutely, an almost-amused ghost of a smile there before he let his attention roll to the house instead.

Or rather, the hut. For it was little more than that. But homely, of the sort that looked more to belong in a small fanciful picturebook of what Matori was rather than in reality. As he stepped up to it, he followed Xewai’s lead in scuffing his feet over rock and leaf ‘mat’ at his front door. Upon moving in, his eyes immediately roamed the interior, taking note of the parchment, but soon after focussing on the other details of the scene.

And the great mound of blankets that must have been Xewai’s ‘bed.’  

[Kapoodles]

If there was anything Xewai could be sure if, it was how proud he was of his little home. Growing up, he had very little after his parents were stolen away, and for a short while, he was all alone. Gradually, though, he began to collect things, horde things, especially blankets, to the point where it didn't seem right to keep them all in the Buhawi camp. Such a strong urge came over him to build something he could call his own closer to the sea that even at the young age of ten, he began to build and work. A year of carving out the stone, months of work trying to make sure that he had a good foundation, then finally a few weeks of actually assembling the house to work. It seemed so huge back then, but now it was small and a little cramped, and he adored it!

After stepping through the threshold of the shack, there was a few steps down into the actual stone before reaching what was the floor. The steps were uncovered, but other inch of it was covered in reed mats, with softer coverings of plush fabric in certain places. The doorway into the home was pushed up between the front and right side of the house, looking at the house straight forward from the outside, leaving a nice open space to the left of the doorway. But it wasn't empty. Instead, there was a peculiar little stone fire place set against corner of the wall, with a small opening in the back that lead to the outside. All things considered, it was rather well thought out, since the smoke would filter outside even with the fire burning, but the fire would keep anything from coming in. Of course, Xe wasn't the one to think that up, no, it was a gift from the blacksmith of the Buhawi once he had learned of his desires for a home.

Placed to the right of the fireplace, still against to the front wall of the house, was a thin table, sticking out no further than an inch from the wall. On top of it seemed to be all of the cooking pots and utensils he had, and directly above that seemed to be the fancier items, two lacquer bowls, one with a noticeable chip in the side, a few small sea-green glasses, and a tea kettle with a design of pretty fish on it's side. Under the tabled seemed to be his food store, with various boxes that had things like bags of rice, or dried meats or other things stored in them. It wasn't fancy, but it was a little make shift kitchen, and he loved it.

On the left wall of the home, pressed up flush against it, was a small wooden table, covered in papers and pencils. There was more than a little evidence that Xewai wrote a large amount, given how short and dinky some of the writing utensils were, but all that was was there on the paper now were illegible chicken scratch from him trying to write while he was half asleep and little awful doodles of fish and various other sea creatures. Dangling above it was a small chandelier of broken glass of many colors that clinked together softly when the door opened. And placed directly in front of the fireplace, a few feet back, was pile of cozy blankets with a dent in the middle of them. An obvious sign that he sat there frequently among them.

In the back right corner of the house was a decently sized bed with a wooden frame. Above the bed was a window that had dark, thick curtains infront of it, so that no light was coming in from there. Whether or not there was actually a cushion or pad on the bed was impossible to tell because stacked on top of it were countless layers of blankets, of all materials and colors. There was no organization by color or type, it just seemed that he layered them all neatly one after another after another on the bed until it seemed to pile up two feet from frame. On top of that were two pillows with hand embroidery of seaweed on them, placed neatly and fluffed to perfection. Beside the bed was a simple stand, with a small arrangement of flowers in a small cup and a glass of mostly empty water.

Finally, there was the back left corner that went from roof to ground in shelves that were attached firmly to the wall. Despite Xewai seeming like the kind of youth who had no organizational skills whatsoever, the shelf was neatly arranged. On the top few shelves were delicate items, shells, glass pieces, and a few books, kept high up in case the water were to come in one day. On the shelves under that were a surprising number of weapons. Short daggers, vials of various substances, long needles, and a various number of fire starters. All evidence that the person who lived here sometimes did things that were a little dangerous, but that was to be expected. The bottom shelves contained nothing more than various wood working equipment and fishing tools. In fact, leaning against the arrangement of shelves were a few long items. Two fishing poles, a small trident, A spear, a pair of short Oars, and a length of rope that dangled from a hook. On the back wall, diagonal from the front door and at the end of the bed was another door that was closed. Unlike the front door, which was simple in it's appearance, the back door was magnificent! It was made of smooth sea glass, delicately placed in a frame and held in place with what seemed to be clay. The sun and it's early morning light filtered through the door, leaving a beam of filtered colors slowly lighting up the room.

Xewai only briefly noticed the light changing before he went over to his food stores, kneeling down to rummage around for the meal and fruits he had, along with a small sack of flour, sugar, and some eggs that were kept in a cool box.

"So... What would you like to eat? Something sweet? Something hot, something cold, something fishy? Just let me know! Oh, and take a seat anywhere! One day I'll actually think about getting a better cushion than just blankets to sit infront of the fire on!"

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

There was no shortage of things to see.

From the outside, Sajah had admittedly expected much less. It was small, unassuming, quaint, simple—set apart from the rest of the camp, yes, but other than that relatively ordinary and innocuous. After stepping in and shutting the door gently behind him, he found his eyes could not decide where to land: there was so much in such a small space, yet somehow without looking necessarily cluttered. It simply looked full. Personalized. Used. Loved.

Like a home.

If pressed, Sajah was not sure he could have described the feeling in his chest then. Tight and warm with some unspoken want. Jealousy, and yet not. Envy, and yet not. But all told, a sharp awareness that a space like this was something he had never had, and never even known well enough to understand or miss, but to see it before him, will all of its details, all of its personal touches, all of its character, he knew: this, whatever it was in all that it entailed, was something that he wanted in its own to-be-determined personally tailored form for himself.

For the moment though, he simply drank it in. He moved with careful footsteps, slow, as though if he moved too quickly here that would rush the moment, and his attention slid from detail to detail, from the grooves of the wood to the make of the shelves, to the bowls, to the food, to the trinkets, to the fireplace, to the floorboards.

Eventually, because Xewai had asked, he moved to the small table of writing utensils, took up a small, well-used stub of chiseled writing coal, and scrawled: anything. Because anything would do. Anything Xe gave him here would be more than he yet earned and he hadn’t the tongue to fully appreciate the flavor regardless, but whatever it was, he would appreciate it. After writing it and setting the charcoal back where he’d picked it from, his gaze returned to wandering, and this time, he let his fingers roam—very gently, tracing the wood of the writing desk and then the curve of a small ink pot.

When his eyes landed on a sketch, non-professional but of the ocean’s wildlife winding their way up the side of an otherwise unfinished written piece, he felt something pull at the corner of his mouth in spite of himself.  

[Kapoodles]

"Anything works? Perfect, Anything is my BEST dish!" Immediately Xewai pulling out six of the eggs he had down in his cool box, along with a handful of random spices and leaves and a melon, sitting them on the counter above.

"I'm.. Actually surprised there's this much... I think maybe Farako came by and dropped some off when I finally made it back home... Yeah! I remember, she came by yesterday evening when I was dozing and writing that report. I'll have to remember to send her a thank you note..." His words were more towards himself than to Saj, though he did show him a quick smile over his shoulder. Standing straight, he gave a quick stretch and then grabbed a pan and a wooden spoon, setting them on the counter as well.

"Fire... Right..." The young waterling seemed to flutter around like a small bird between his tasks, almost looking unorganized in his motions but managing to be right here he needed to be in the moment. Picking up his staff from it's resting place next to the front door, he pointed it towards the fireplace and the dried wood that hid in there. After a quick prayer to the fire elementals, he sent a small flame to the fire place, smiling wide once it set ablaze. Items changed from his hands again, staff put away, pant picked up and set above he fire to warm. Then he found himself infront of the counter again.

"Do you wanna help? You could cut up the melon! I'm all sorts of greedy so I'd just cut it in quarters and eat the WHOLE thing, but I'm sure you can make it a little neater and better for sharing, right?" While his pan heated, he got a small chopping board, a kitchen knife, and the melon and walked over to Sajahka, placing it down before him, but ensuring that he didn't block anything he was looking at. In that brief moment, Xewai noticed the small smile the other wore and returned it with a grin. "Do you like to doodle too?"  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Anything is my BEST dish!

Sajah tossed a sidelong glance in the other’s direction, one dotted eyebrow twitching barely upwards, though the corner of his lip moved, too—amused in spite of himself. The man certainly had no shortage of spirit or enthusiasm. He watched Xewai’s hands move, plucking up the eggs as he talked, shuffling things about and working his tiny kitchen and all its parts like a small, organized bit of chaos that somehow all functioned together in harmony.

When Xe came his way, offering him something to do and partake in it all, he nodded. Xewai could have put nearly any task before him at that moment and, provided he was capable of it, Sajah would have complied. Though it wasn’t his home and he knew it, it had an atmosphere of welcome to it in keeping with Xewai’s own natural warmth and openness, as though his personal positivity had seeped into its walls and its trappings, personalizing the space itself.

He paused just before touching the knife, glancing over instead at Xewai’s question. Did he doodle? As his eyes skimmed the small fish ‘swimming’ up the side of scratch paper, Sajah shook his head, no he didn’t doodle, but—he reached, picking up the charcoal again briefly to scrawl in small print near to but not overlapping on the fish: i like it - it looks happy. That was all. Given the opportunity, perhaps he might have doodled, but never in his life had the chance arisen.

For the moment, he went back to the task at hand, taking the knife up this time and holding the melon still over the board before beginning to slice. Long, neat cuts until it had been made into eight even semi-circle wedges.  

[Kapoodles]

After handing Sajahka the melon and utensils, he waiting patiently for a response and simply smiled sheepishly at the compliment.

"Do you think so? I don't doodle often but when I do it's always fish or sea creatures or the ocean. I'm a very simple kid, to be honest. It's really obvious what I enjoy, can't you tell?" Everything about him and his home screamed a love for the ocean. Not an ear splitting scream but a 'why yes, the sea is mine and I will lover her forever' sort of scream. It fit Xewai like a glove, for he was a very readable person in general, not that it was ever a bad thing for him so far.

After giving Sajahka a quick nod, he went back to the short counter and pulled out another knife, starting to chop up a few of the leaves brought out earlier. He wasn't methodical or precise with his chops, but was there a need to be? In Xewai's mind it was all gonna come out looking roughly the same so it all worked out. Once chopped enough, he dumped it, the spices, and cracked the eggs all into a single bowl, humming softly as he did so. The tune was pointless and soft but in the otherwise quiet room, it could be heard clearly, telling a soft tale of a really chipper melody. After a moment, the bowl was set down and the pan was grabbed from the flame with a rag. A few drops of oil were shaken into it's bottom from a tapered bottle that sat up on a ledge before everything in the bowl was dumped into the pan and stuck back over the fire.

"So, I did notice that sometimes you move your hands about in certain patterns when you're around Nyko, and he's able to respond out loud, like you have your own secret language that he knows. Is that really a language you came up with, or is it something that only works because you two are really close? Is it something I can learn too?" He made his inquiries allowed, with his back still turned as he quickly moved the eggs about the fire with a wooden spoon. Once satisfied with their current state of cooking, he turned around for a moment, to see Sajahka's reply. "Oh! you finished cutting the melon! Feel free to dig in!"

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

With the crack of eggs and the following sizzle and pop of food came the smell of food, and as quickly as that, Sajah became aware of just how hungry he was. The aroma filled the small space as though it belonged there, only further warming the atmosphere and adding spice to the tune that Xe was already providing as his body moved to its own beat. Sajah watched for a moment. Then, at the question, blinked.

Xe wasn’t the first to ask about his sign language, but many didn’t notice, and rarely did they put much thought into it. Of the people who spent significant time with him — or, of those who had — Nyko had been the only one to fully learn his language other than one fellow slave under his former masters. A handful of others had learned bits and pieces, and the rest only knew what they had picked up in context, or disregarded it entirely, making do with grunts or nods as ‘answer enough’ and expecting little more out of him.

Since Xe had asked, though, Sajah reached again for the paper, finding a wider free spot this time to scrawl: it is my language - he knows all my words. He paused, though, at the latter part of the question, considering before stating it as it was: you could learn if you wish - it is slow. Slow, at least, in the sense of learning it. Of course, to communicate with Nyko was virtually instantaneous and natural as compared to trying to with others who did not understand, but it was simpler to leave the sentence as it was.

If Xe wanted, Sajah had no qualms teaching him some basic signs. He didn’t suspect the other man would have the patience for much — many who had initially thought they wanted to learn tired of it quickly — and it wasn’t likely Xe would stay near to them long enough to learn everything or make use of it all. But while here, Sajah had down time, and got little enough communication with others on the whole that the thought of even spending a few hours doing so was pleasant.  

[Kapoodles]

"Your language... That really really fantastic! I mean, the very thought that you developed a language that's uniquely your own is just..And then on top of that you learned to read and write, AND to understand the spoken language... AND teach the language to someone else... You mind must be sharp as the tip of a snaptrotter's tooth!" An astonished expression was given to Sajahka before turning back to the pan over the fire. As the smell wafted through the room, Xewai made a face and reached over to the counter to grab a few more spices. Though it DID smell delicious, it never really seemed to have enough spices. Another small scoop of a salt and pepper blend was added to the dish as he contemplated the offer to learn his language.

"I think... Hrm... I'm not the fastest learner, but I'm diligent, so I'd LOVE to learn, if you're willing to teach, and have patience with me. And I can teach you something too! Uh... Do you know how to fish? Ooh, what about swimming and canoeing? I could teach you how to dive for clams and how to use a spear to catch the BIG fish, like the kinds that can feed like, eight people. Hold that answer, oooone moment!" While he spoke excitedly, he didn't turn around, instead grabbing a few plates down off a shelf. It only took a moment before he was bringing two steaming hot plates with spoons over to the table, piled high with the eggs. After setting them down he made one last trip to the counter, grabbing two of his nice glasses and using a pitcher that was pushed off to the corner to pour fresh water for them to drink.

Finally, he took a seat across from Sajahka, pushing the papers and writing charcoals to the side, except for the ones that were in use.

"Alright! Dig in! I didn't burn it this time either!"

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajahka blinked—and stared.

You must be sharp as a snaptrotter’s tooth.

In that moment Sajah couldn’t recall a single incident where anyone had referenced his intellect in a positive manner, and to date, he had not given the matter much thought himself. If anything, he did not consider himself especially bright. He struggled to communicate, after all. His writing was subpar, the spelling and scrawl atrocious, and he had been told as much. Even his personal sign language he had never much thought of as a feat or anything special. Of course, it had taken great swaths of personal effort and time to construct and commit to memory and use in a practical fashion, but that was surely true of any language—he’d simply needed to in this case, to avoid losing contact with the world. And to avoid being cut off from communication from his friend at a young age.

It felt natural and necessary, yes. But not brilliant or inspirational.

The comment, though, lodged deeper than it was likely intended to, inciting a swell of heat in Sajah’s cheeks that climbed out to his earfins, which twitched in turn with his abashment. He diverted his gaze, moving to settle instead as Xewai did, and taking his plate as his stomach gave another muted rumble. Xewai wanted to learn, and not merely that, but teach him something in turn. The thought was far more than he’d expected to get out of the simple breakfast visit, but he reached to scribble briefly just the same: swim, he wrote, wen ar you free ?

He could not swim. Or fish. Or dive. Or canoe. But the first few in particular sounded especially useful.

For the moment, though, he was hungry, so he ate. With relish.