#axanelelati

[paintcrab]

Overdue Returns (mimzomworld story)

library!! kxi^anuxa nālam!! titles are hard and I’m going to quit fiddling with it

contains: library visit, minor eldrich horror (size of whale), removing traps, aftermath of the raid on Whisperstep’s home, grief/mourning

Conlang Pronouns: itex/itexirr/itexun, kī/ksirr/kīxun. Conlang translations under the cut.

•••

Nat sighs. She’s been putting this off too long already.

“Fox, we’re going to the library. I need to give these books back,” she says, adding the book about animals they really like to the pile.

“Wolf book?” They tip their head. “Library zose kxi^anuxa nālam, mo?”

When she doesn’t answer, they reach for the book and hold it up. “Nālam,” they repeat, tapping the book. “Not yours?”

She takes a cookbook from the kitchen, and shows them the difference between a library book and her own books. Does not let them peel off the sticker with their blunted claws. “I know you can’t read yet, but there’s fish books at the library—”

Chirp-chirp-chirping, they tug her in the direction of the car.

Ding! The bell on the desk is within reach. Ding-ding-di—!

She scoops them up, holding them out of range of the bell. Making a grumbling sound, they stretch their hands at the bell, think for a minute, then reach with their foot.

The bell is out of range of their foot. She should get them another pair of boots, in case these aren’t warm enough for winter.

Ding! He sighs. Fox is a mimic, they can just mimic the bell.

Setting them back down, he pushes the bell away slightly. “We’re looking for books about—”

“Fish book.” Looking up at the librarian, they smile, showing all the sharp teeth in their very wide mouth. “Fish book please?”

The librarian—Cathy—nods, and makes the mistake of asking Fox what they want to know about fish. Hearing the word, they tip their head, chattering in their own language.

Nat recognises some of the words, by now, but they fly past too quickly for him to translate. “They like documentaries, so something with realistic pictures, maybe?”

So they look at some books that are for older kids who want to know everything and not probably-five-year-olds who can’t read yet, but that’s fine. They mostly care about the pictures, and she’ll be reading them out loud anyway.

Dead fish are fine, but one of them has a picture of a whale next to a diver, showing how big they are, and Fox hisses at it. Hides behind her, leaving the book on the floor. “Big fish eats us?”

“No,” he says, “whales don’t eat us. They eat many many small things, like….” He’s talked to them about bugs. “Like bugs, but very tiny fish-bugs.”

“No more whales,” they mumble, finding a book about birds. And another one about reptiles. “Whales tomorrow or very later.”

They check the books out, and Fox imitates the barcode scanner while they walk back to the car. And then birds.

So many birds, which apparently means exploring the woods when they get home. And carrying them on his shoulders while he gets rid of all the traps they find. Some traps, he’s aware of, but he didn’t always own this house, and—

SNAP!

His sacrificial stick is bitten by rusty metal teeth. Just to be safe, he taps out the area around that trap. “Okay, we’re putting that in the cart.”

“Krrakata zoxtok,” they mumble. “Zose ilutat ksateke.”

“Yeah, I don’t like it either.”

They howl, and get a response. It’s close. Unsettlingly close, but he listens when they point him in the direction of the sound.

“Miwa!”

Tonuako^itayanek stands. Kī stands, despite ksirr messed-up leg, using ksirr spear to keep the weight off. Yes, kī could’ve gone to the ewanuxa at Moon Lake—not everyone can make the trip between the summer and winter ewanuxa^ese, and there’s always some people who stay and take care of them—but kī didn’t.

Tonuako^itakanek counted. Put the fires out, made sure the humans were killed dead, and counted. Four pups hidden in the big pots in the pantry-house, and six in the cupboards. Five frozen under blankets. Two clinging to the apprentice of a blood-covered healer who snapped at kī, and a couple others.

They had to bury their dead and gather what they could, and kī had to count again.

Ksirr pup wasn’t one of the dead. Lelasenaka^ataxa was, but not their pup. Kī stayed, when the other survivors left, because Lelaxotayanetek was missing, and kī was not going to abandon itex.

And now, and now, ksirr pup is sitting on a human’s shoulders. Wearing clothing kī doesn’t recognise.

“Mo zose kekone takrraxit?”

“Ksa.”

Itex climbs down, running to kī. Lets kī look at itex, combing through soft hair Lelaxotayanetek would never brush if it was up to itex.

When itex bumps into ksirr injured leg, kī hisses. Gets stared at with wide eyes as itex says something kī doesn’t understand.

Squeaks, when ksirr reaction to the human’s approach is to hold itex tightly and growl.

“What’s that?”

Lelaxotayanetek takes advantage of ksirr shock to pry itexun free. “What’s wrong,” itex grumbles.

And then says something to… Nat. Which ends in kī being picked up and carried while itex brings ksirr spear instead of the little cart full of—

“We’re hunting them, miwa. So I can chase birds without getting hurt!”

“What?”

Nat sets xem down on the couch, carefully. Lets Fox—lets Lelaxotayanetek handle introductions while xe hisses at him and he removes his mangled coat.

Xyr name is Tonuako^itayanek, and xe’s their miwa. And he is apparently their kiwa, which is something xe doesn’t take very well.

“What does that mean?” he asks. They tip their head. “Mo kiwa?” he tries.

Echoes of narrators talking about parents and parenting. Wolves and birds and bears and—

“Oh,” he says. “I don’t think your miwa wants to share you with me.”

Rebellious chirping. His hand and xyr hand are pressed together, and xe’s clearly uncomfortable with this but they don’t let either of them pull away. “Okay, okay.” Very gently, he squeezes xyr hand, and lets go.

Xe’s injured. Xyr leg is the worst of it, since xe’s clearly been walking and all that’s done is make it— Nat doesn’t pin xem down when xe struggles.

Right now, xe needs to feel safe. So he takes a step back, gives xem space, and goes to get xem something to eat.

“Miwa,” Lelaxotayanetek says, quietly. “Mo mewa? Mo Lelasenaka^ataxa?”

Xe squeezes their hand. “Mext xa. Lelasenaka^ataxa zose onauzi.”

•••

Words in Axanelelati

We’re trying this format. Letter approximations aren’t great (I have to make compromises and it’s based on how I speak) but I’m going do that plus a squint at the IPA chart to see if I can do that too

Syllables = sy·lla·bles || Emphasis/stress is going to be represented with ' for primary stress and ˌ for secondary stress (on the stressed syllable)

Glottal stop ʔ (<- that thing) is pronounced like the bit in “uh-oh” where it skips. I can’t really approximate it another way.

Kī/ksirr/kīxun (key/k-seer/key-HOON) /kiː/ /ksir/ /kiː·'xun/ = hunter pronouns, use the same format as it/its/itself (kī/ksirr/kī-self)

Itex/itexirr/itexun (E-teh/e-teh-HEAR/e-teh-HOON) /'i·tex/ /ˌi·te·'xir/ /ˌi·te·'xun/ = pronouns for a child born in winter, same format as it/its/itself (itex/itexirr/itex-self)

Library zose ki^anuxa nālam, mo? (LIE-bree zo-SAY keyʔAH-new-ha naah-LAM, mo?) /'laɪ·bɹi/ /ˌzo·'se/ /'kiʔa·nu·ˌxa/ /ˌnaː·'lam/ /mo/ = Library is house of stories, right?

Kxi^anuxa = kxi (piece) + ewanuxa (den, village, home) = a piece of the home/den, a building. (Fun fact: in-universe, the translations are like this because Lelaxotayanetek is a kid who really likes wolves, and they’re the one who ends up co-writing the first Axanelelati to English dictionary. As an adult, they still feel like their original words fit best)

Nālam = story, stories. Stories in either spoken or written format

Krrakata zoxtok (krrah-kah-TAH zoh-tok) /'kra·ka·ˌta/ /'zox·ˌtok/= crunching metal, metal teeth. A beartrap.

Zose ilutat ksateke (zo-SAY E-loo-taht k-sah-teh-KAY) /ˌzo·'se/ /'i·lu·ˌtat/ /ksa·'tek·ˌe/ = is bloody and cripples you/makes you unable to walk. The word “ksateke” = ksa (no) + teke (walk).

Miwa (ME-wah) /'mi·wa/ = sire-parent

Tonuako^itayanek (TON-new-ah-kohʔe-TAH-yan-EK) /'to·ˌnu·a·ˌkoʔi·'ta·jan·'ek/ = Lakestalker

Ewanuxa (eh-WAH-new-HA) /e·'wa·nu·ˌxa/, ewanuxa^ese (eh-WAH-new-HAʔE·SAY) /e·'wa·nu·ˌxaʔe·ˌse/ = home, homes (plural indicating two).

Mo zose kekone takrraxit? (mo zo-SAY keh-kohn-AY tahk-RRA-heet) /mo/ /ˌzo·'se/ /'ke·kon·ˌe/ /ˌtak·'ra·xit/ = are there any traps? (lit. will the path strike/attack?)

Ksa = no

Kiwa (key-wah) /ki·wa/ = parent (neutral/no biological relation)

Mo mewa? Mo Lelasenaka^ataxa (mo MEH-wah? mo LEH-lah-SEH-nah-KAHʔAT-a-XA) /mo/ /'me·wa/ /mo/ /'le·la·ˌse·na·'kaʔat·a·ˌxa/ = Where’s my dam-parent? Where’s Clearvoice?

Mext xa. Lelasenaka^ataxa zose onauzi. (meht ha. LEH-lah-SEH-nah-KAHʔAT-a-XA zo-SAY oh-NOW-zee) /mext/ /xa/ /'le·la·ˌse·na·'kaʔat·a·ˌxa/ /ˌzo·'se/ /o·'nau·zi/ = Past breathing. Clearvoice is dead. (lit. Clearvoice is a memory stone)

•••

Character Masterpost

[paintcrab]

Au’axanu Genders (revised edition) (mimzomworld)

For au’axanu, genders are based around jobs/roles. Transitioning is a common thing, and entirely social (the concept of “assigned gender at birth” would be extremely weird to them)

Pups are expected to start an apprenticeship at their fifteenth year, and are assigned a gender based on their interests on their seventeenth. They are considered dual-gender until they complete their apprenticeship.

Adults may be encouraged to change jobs within their gender (or over to a gender they were interested in as a pup) if there are gaps to fill. If it’s urgent, it’ll be mandatory.

Iwaniromu (iwa/iwa’ir/iwaxun)

Aunt-Patriarchs (ce/cir/cirself)

Can also be translated as “Aunt-Matriarch” or “Councillor.” Related to the secondary words for parent

Iwaniromu don’t have to be elected, but if they aren’t elected, they won’t be councillors

Responsable for monitoring their ewanuxa

May turn down the council seat for any reason, though they must find a replacement that isn’t rejected by the ewanuxai

Considered servants of their ewanuxa, so things like sanitation work fit under this gender. It’s respected, and pups are told to clean up after themselves, when they can, to avoid giving the Iwaniromu’etsu too much work

Ewaniromu (ewa/ewa’irr/ewaxun)

Matriarchs (ce/cir/cirself)

I translate it as “Matriarch,” due to a connection with the word mewa (dam-parent), but “Leader,” “Head of Council,” or “Mediator” are also acceptable

Ewaniromu are an elected subclass of Iwaniromu, that cannot turn down the role (it’s a heavy burden, and self-doubt means the choice was correct)

Responsable for keeping order in an ewanuxai: mediating the Council, monitoring the state of the ewanuxai, and carrying out justice

Their votes are reserved for tiebreakers, if the Council cannot delay the decision

Can often be found buried under a naptime pile

Nālana (nā/nākirr/nāxun)

Lorekeepers (thon/thons/thonself)

Keepers of knowledge, teaching future generations. They are librarians, historians, teachers, and babysitters

Sometimes considered a retirement gender, due to the amount of disabled people and elders who transition to it

People transition to Nālana to have pups, which may either be temporary or permanent

Crafting, repairing, and similar jobs also fall under this category (things that can be done while teaching)

Ialexa (ial/iaksir/ia’exun)

Healers (ne/nir/nirself)

Subclasses have their own names, though not their own pronouns

The least flexible gender: the pronouns are strictly for medical professionals, so apprentices can’t use them until they become proper healers

Ialexa pronouns are sort of similar to a medical degree

Itektekane (kīa/ki’arr/ki’exun)

Generalists (ve/vir/virself)

While I originally called them “scouts,” it might properly translate to “generalist” or “walker.” It’s a bit of an odd category

Often do jobs outside their ewanuxa, such as mapmaking and gathering medicinal herbs, which is why I originally called them scouts

Etola’axanu Itektekane are responsable for navigation, steering, and making sure the ship-den ends up where it needs to be

Na’axanu Itektekane are responsable for gathering medicines, making maps, reporting dangers to Rrauakane, and sometimes trade

Pronouns are similar to Iki’itekew, since the gender is related to Iki’i’tekew. It’s also related to Rrauakane

Iki’itekew (kī/ksirr/kīxun)

Hunters (xe/xyr/xyrself)

Hunters. Literally translates to “little/chirping prey-steps”

Iki’itekew are usually cooks, regardless of ewanuxa structure. Not everyone, but enough that it’s a gendered thing

Jobs relating to death fall under this category if there isn’t anyone deathclaimed in the ewanuxai

Rrauakane (rau/auksir/rauxun)

Guards (ae/aer/aemself)

Often called “Rrauak,” to the point where “Rrauakane” is a non-gendered word for guard in some dialects

Watch over their ewanuxa, protecting it from harm

Forging metal, teaching self-defense, and enforcing laws fall into this category

They serve their ewanuxai (abuses of power are punished with suspension or exile in most ewanuxa)

Iki’ikinita (ine/ine’irr/inexun)

Pups (ey/eir/emself)

Usually called “ki’ikik,” because it’s the affectionate form

Technically a gender! (Another odd category)

•••

Lore Masterpost

[paintcrab]

Language (mimzomworld story)

more mimic centre + much conlanging (translations at the bottom)

contains: Nat actually trying to use the words she’s heard, Gingersnap’s continued conflict with Fatespeaker, the Spanish word for garlic (“ajo” is the cleanest approximation of “axo” I could think of. Think of the sound in “whole” and add the “A” from “lAnguage” or “Annotations.” English zezunoru ilela, ANE SENAKILUT UE— I’m pretty sure it’s /a/ on the ipa chart)

•••

Nat sits on the couch, with Fox staring at the animals in her book as she reads.

“Mo etse?” She asks, pointing at a wolf.

“Mo woxas?” Leaning into her side, they tap the picture— “Auwu’ekawo.”

They point to it, then themself. “Zose krrakawo, nem ane krrakawo.” Point to her— “Ue lewo. Nānuxasako’on zose wanuxalu lewo sirr.”

Dark eyes stare at her. She points at the wolf— “Awoo ekah woah.”

“Au-wu’e-kawo.”

“Auwuek—”

They hit her arm gently. Scoot away from her. Sit up. “U’e—” a gesture: one finger hopping from the palm to the fingertips. “U’e. Ksa ‘ue,’ ‘u’e.’ Zose ilela te’eke. Te’eke.

“Auwu’ekawo.”

“Auwu’ekawo?” A chirpy nod. They picked up nodding from her. She points at herself. “Wah-new-ha-lum li-woah Nan-oo-ha-sah-koh-ohn?”

“Wanuxalu lewo. Wanu-xa-lu le-wo.”

She tries, and tries, until eventually they pat her on the shoulder. “Io’a.”

“Wanuxalu lewo Nānuxasako’on.”

“Io’a! Io’a!” They tap their forehead. “Ane Lelaxotayanetek—Fox ki’ikik ena’asirr.” Tap at her forehead— “Ue Nānuxasako’on, wanuxalu sirr.”

“You’re Lel-ajo-tah-yan-eh-tech?”

“Io’a, Lelaxotayanetek! Nem Fox. Ki’ikik ue’asirr.”

“Fox is Lelaxotayanetek. Nānuxasako’on is Nat.” She closes the book. Stands to put it away, now that they’re not talking about the animals in the book, and they aren’t physically attached to her.

“Nat! Nat tsakin kekone na’at.”

“Na’at?”

“Lelati’i mo zose ‘which’ ‘what’ ‘do you’ ‘are you’ ‘how’. Ue lalat: Mo na’at? Mo.”

“What does na’at mean, Lelaxotayanetek?”

They throw a pillow at her, then do it again. “Na’at.” Tap the table a few times. “Na’at.” Bring her a banana from the fruit bowl, then go and do it again. “Na’at.”

“Again? Like… movie nights? How you want movies again all the time?”

Chirp-chirp-chirping, hopping up and down, they tug at her sleeve until she gets snacks. Until she tucks blankets around them both. Until she picks up the remote and finds a documentary about wolves.

Until they’re tucked into her side

“Nat. Nat, mo ue lelata auwu’ekawo?”

“Wolf. Auwu’ekawo is wolf.”

They repeat the word perfectly.

She tries not to be jealous.

Tucked into her arms, they mumble, “Totomolu ue. I love you.”

She breathes. “I love you too, Lexal—”

“Lelaxotayanetek.” They pat her side. “And Fox. Fox is good.”

“I love you too, Lelaxontayanetek. Te amo.”

“Moviemorrow?”

“Okay. Movie tomorrow. Go to sleep.”

“Mo Mimic Centre kekone?”

She mumbles agreement, ruffling their hair. “Mimics tomorrow, okay.”

“Senkrrakaraya,” he says carefully. Last time they visited, they repeated that multiple times about Gingersnap, so it must be xyr name.

That, and Fox called xyr name.

Xe goes still. Tips xyr head, wiping the black off xyr claws. “Iromu, Nānuxasako’on.” Taking his hand, xe pulls a wooden box out of xyr bag, and gives him a couple crickets.

Roasted crickets.

They taste nutty, almost. He thanks xem, and Fox swipes a couple.

“Mo rrauak tezato?”

“Io’a,” xe says, dipping xyr fingers in the paint again. Draws a line under xyr eyes that meets over xyr strange nose, and a triangle-based pattern down xyr arms.

Pulling them closer, xe draws the same line under their eyes.

“Tomal, ki’ikik sirr.” The mimic sits in their little circle, next to Gingersnap, and lets xem touch xyr forehead to theirs. Doesn’t wipe off the smudges of black paint left by xyr hands.

Fox gestures to them, repeating snippets of narrators talking about animals caring for their young until Nat gives them the right words.

“Senkrrakaraya speak of you,” they say. “Rau is not trusting of ki’ikik nem humans, netsk rau trusting you with Lelaxotayanetek.”

Fox taps at them, tap-tap-taps— “Mo ue yene lewoyene lelata? Mo lelate nem lewoaxanu?”

“Tsakinaxanu, ki’ikik. Tsakin lelata.”

They grumble. “Human lelata, then.”

“Some. Yene more words for healing nem medicine than you, nem yene less words for ewanuxa than you.”

“Nem zose ‘and,’ Teketsaluxone’e.”

Rau pulls Fox up to standing, insisting on some kind of chase-game. Sitting with Teketsaluxone’e, he watches them, and tries to figure out the rules again.

“Lelaxotayanetek still have claws, and ziwex, and choose. Can stay if ine choose to, an aksir ine if ine choose, but choose you.” A low rumbling growl forms in their chest, and they turn their full attention to him. “Ine choice is healing.

“Mo netsk not healing? Au’eletsalxone’exane ksa ziwex ue. Au’eletsalxone’exane ue.”

He nods. He may not understand most of those words, but a threat is a threat.

Fox is still small, but he can feel the odd strength when they hug him. Teketsaluxone’e, on the other hand, is fully grown. The half-hug, leaning on him is subtly powerful the same way having a purring leopard curled up aroung him might be.

Not that mimics purr.

“Your ki’ikik choose you.”

“Stay,” he says softly, “they asked me to stay.”

“Mo stay?”

“Yes. Uh, io’a. I stay.”

They just sit like that, quietly.

Hissing, they jolt upright— “Askirelaian. Ksa.”

The mimic from before stares at Teketsaluxone’e. Growls. “Lewoyene—”

“Senkrrakataya ue lelata. Lelata: ksa, Askirelaian, ksa. Rau lelata ue. Rau krrakaya ue. Rau rayakilut ue. Mo netsk yalat? Mo nestk ue yalat rau? Ksa.”

Gingersnap freezes. Locks eyes with them, and does not flinch when Fox crashes into rau. “ASKIRELAIAN. KSALALAT.”

“KSAXA.”

“Senkrrakaraya!”

Rau makes a complaining gesture at them. Complainingly. “Ksa yalat!”

Askirelaian’s ears droop. They whine, softly. “Ane ekan tinaka ue! Iromunewa ue! Ue rrukaraya letse’e, nem ksa ane!”

The conversation is mostly gestures and hissing from Gingersnap. Gestures and hissing and bared teeth and Teketsaluxone’e trying to mediate.

Fox tugs at his sleeve and pulls him away. “Fish.

“And we…. Ksa want kekone etse. Too much xsutskaya from Senkrrakaraya, we go. Go home.” They wave a hand. “Chickens home.”

“Home with fish and movie?” he asks, and they chirp loudly at him.

In the back seat of his car, they talk about what movie they want. Not entirely in words he understands, but they’ll figure it out at home.

Either with gestures, or by rephrasing it until he understands.

Or, as it turns out—while he’s waiting for the apparently-mandatory popcorn to pop—by making animal noises and bringing fur coats and scarves until he understands what they mean.

“Polar bear?”

“No. Golden brown. ” They wrap the scarves around their head. “Big otsixonu. Eat the stripy white-black not-deer and the tsakin deer with the—” sticking their arms straight up, they nod their head at her insistently.

“Big cat? That hunts zebras and antelopes?”

“Io’a!”

“That’s a lion.”

Fox listens closely to the TV, treating it a bit like a sports match. Understands enough of it to make little frustrated noises when the narrator talks about the prey escaping, cheering when the hunt finally goes well. Mimics the sounds the lion cubs make, curling up at his side.

“Wolves next?”

“Io’a,” he says. “One episode for wolves.”

Axanu Lelata Translations: (the ones that aren’t explained by context)

English zezunoru ilela, ANE SENAKILUT UE: Confusing English sounds, I WANT YOU TO BLEED— Expression of my frustration about inconsistent letter-sounds in English.

Mo etse?: What’s this? Accidentally similar to the Spanish “esto,” as in “¿Que es esto?” [mo (question)] [etse (thing, object)]

Mo woxas? Auwu’ekawo: What’s that creature? It’s a wolf. [auwu (howling onomatopoeia) + krrakawo (predator, hunt-animal)]

Zose krrakawo, nem ane krrakawo. Ue lewo. Nānuxasako’on zose wanuxalu lewo sirr: It’s a predator, and/like I’m a predator. You’re prey. [Nat] is my prey-leader (prey-matriarch).

Zose ilela te’eke. Te’eke: It’s a skipping sound. Skip. [zose (is, equals)] [ilela (sound)] [te’eke (to skip, hop)]

Ane Lelaxotayanetek—Fox ki’ikik ue’asirr. Ue Nānuxasako’on, wanuxalu sirr: I’m Whisperstep—your pup, Fox. You’re Murmurdawn, my wanuxalu. Ue’asirr comes from “rrauaksir” (guard), the root of “sirr” and later “aksir.” [ue (you, your) + aksir (to keep, claim)]

Lelaxotayanetek: Whisperstep: they who speak with care and stalk without a whisper, who shall not make a sound unless they wish. From Auetotilutayanetek & Letotaxosana’at. [lelaxa (whisper, breathe-speak) + letotat (speak as clear as water) + yanetek (stalk, think carefully)]

Nānuxasako’on: Murmurdawn: they who give stories at dawn. From “nālana enanulu nem xasako’on,” the extended version of “nālenu nem xasako’on,” meaning bedtime story or lullaby. [nālana (story) + enanulu (to share) + xasakom (day) + o’one (near)]

Nat tsakin kekone na’at: Nat sounds like echo. [tsakin (next to, similar)] [kekone (path)] [na’at (echo, repeat, again)]

Mimic Centre kekone: Mimic Centre path, go to the Mimic Centre. “Kekone” just means ground, path, or way.

Iromu, Nānuxasako’on: Greetings, [Nat]. A formal way to say hello: used for important conversations and strangers. [iromu (peace)]

Rrauak tezato: Makeup used by the guard gender. “Rrauakane” is the act of guarding, and a separate word. [rrauak (guard gender)] [tezakit (colour) + etotat (water)]

Tomal, ki’ikik sirr: Hi, claim-pup. An affectionate way to say hello, taken from “tatomalu,” meaning heart (rhythm-soul/soul with heavy footsteps).

Mo ue yene lewoyene lelata? Mo lelata nem lewoaxanu: You know human-speak? You speak with prey-people? [lewo (prey) + yene (think, know)] [lelata (language, speak)] [lewo (prey) + axanu (people)]

Tsakinaxanu, ki’ikik. Tsakin lelata: Near-people, pup. Near language. [tsakin (next to, similar) + axanu (people)]

Ziwex: Reality, used here to mean clarity/sobriety (not being drugged like Rainchaser) [ziwex (reality, truth)]

An aksir ine: We would keep em. Exclusive we: us but not you. [an (we)] [aksir (keep)] [ine (pup pronoun)]

Mo netsk not healing? Au’eletsalxone’exane ksa ziwex ue. Au’eletsalxone’exane ue: But if you’re not healing em? Death shall erase thee from reality. Thou shalt die. Ne uses highly formal (non-euphemistic) language for death, here. It’s a word primarily restricted to funerals, for fear of attracting the attention of Death itself. [netsk (but)] [au’eletsalxone’exane (death)]

Askirelaian. Ksa: Fatespeaker. No. [askiren (future) + laian (warning, to warn)]

Lewoyene: Thinking prey, humans. “But the human—”

Senkrrakataya ue lelata. Lelata: ksa, Askirelaian, ksa. Rau lelata ue. Rau krrakaya ue. Rau rayakilut ue. Mo netsk yalat? Mo nestk ue yalat rau? Ksa: Sharpteeth told you. Said: no, Fatespeaker, no. Ae told you. Ae snapped at/threatened you. Ae attacked you. But did you listen? Did you listen to aem? No.

ASKIRELAIAN. KSALALAT: FATESPEAKER. SHUT UP. [askiren (future) + laian (warning, to warn)]

KSAXA: SHUT THE FUCK UP. Ksaxa is a common euphemism for death (used by non-deathclaimed) so ae’re also cursing xem to die, which is the meaning Deathstalker hears. [ksa (un, negation) + xa (to breathe)]

Ane ekan tinaka ue! Iromunewa ue! Ue rrukaraya letse’e, nem ksa ane: I’m trying to mend/fix you! Bring you justice! You growl at everyone, and not me! [ekan (do)] [tinaka (fix)] [ue (you)] [iromunewa (justice)] [rrukaraya (growl at, hate)] [letse’e (everything)]

And we…. Ksa want kekone etse. Too much xsutskaya from Senkrrakaraya, we go: And we…. Don’t want this path. Too much hatred from Sharpteeth, we should go.

•••

Character Masterpost

[paintcrab]

Surrunilutat Kekone nem Au’onatekone (mimzomworld x Old Spruce Inn)

The Blood Drinking Path with Spruce

Contains: revenge trip, euphemisms for death (mimic cultural thing), Nightcaller not understanding sexism, eating a human’s brain (mimzoms are mimic zombies for a reason), and my conlang. (translations at the bottom)

•••

Getting in the way of an angry wanuxalu is a horrible idea, Nightcaller knows, but that isn’t thons plan. They’ve been slightly strange, at dinner, and they smell like a forgecraft-hunter who needs to test their newest blade.

Spruce is a wanuxalu lured out to face a threat. You never want the grand den-parent lured out, not one who is clearly an ikilawo ekan onatinaka.

Thons hunting bag is ready. The blood wasn’t really a hunt, but thon is still wearing the leather-iron hunting clothes. Only some—just the chest piece, arm guards, and cloak—but enough.

Different boots, clack-step boots, for inside, but they’re similar enough.

Their hunt-pup, Atlas, isn’t there.

Atlas isn’t there, but thon can see the traces of him on them. Can see they were the one to teach him.

“Mo surrunilutat kekone, wanuxalu Au’onatekone?” Thon asks. Remembers they’re prey. “On a blood path, wanuxalu Spruce?”

“A blood path,” they say quietly. “A path of revenge for another, yes. You met Oscar. I know who did it. And tomorrow comes his judgement.”

“Iromunewa nem wanuxalu Au’onatekone,” thon says. “Justice through… leader? Shepherd? Spruce.

“Seems a shame to waste a soul.” They won’t eat him. Prey buries souls, fights to live, and the people here are more prey than predator. Fight to live, and do not eat their ksaxa.

Of course, wanuxalu’etsu can leave their ksaxa to rot.

On the approach, thon cackles in the voice of the all-hunter. An inhuman laugh, made intimidating by the layered voices of those whose time is empty.

Spruce can take the hits. Spruce can fight. Nightcaller can put the fear of a predator into their souls, can scream like the wounded and echo the cackling screech-laughs of thons fallen kin.

Sure, thon has a spear and a dart gun.

Sure, thon has armour.

But thon is a lorekeeper. A storyteller.

A storyteller who has no problem staying back until Spruce has handled the preacher.

A storyteller who knows better than to argue with a worried wanuxalu to tell them thon could parayze him easily.

A storyteller who cackles in the all-hunter’s layered voice from behind thons veil.

“Return,” thon says, in the all-hunter’s layered voice. “They return, for you, and now you must listen. They return, for you, and we must watch you fall.”

The door, kicked open, reveals a bound and burning pup. Thon forgets Spruce’s instructions, and growls a proper rrukaraya, baring thons teeth. Uses thons claws to pick the locks and pry away the burning metal, and scoops em into thons cloak.

The moment eir teeth are free, ey bite thon.

“Xosaxalu, ki’ikik sirr. Ane rrauaksir ue, rrauaksir ue, aksir ue, ki’ikik surrunilutat. Xosaxalu,” thon murmurs, walking towards the fallen door to keep em out of the way. Lets em hide emself in thons heavy cloak. “Ue krrakat iko’en yene. Io’a. Io’a kekomi, ki’ikik sirr. Krrakateyen sirr.”

Projecting thons voice to echo on the walls, thon says, “Return. Fall, and forget your life. Forget your cruelty, forget your wounds, forget your hate, forget your guidance, forget all that you were, and be something else.”

It is a call for change. A call for justice. A call for the end.

In its original language—axanu lelata—it is all three, depending only on context.

There is no mistaking context here.

Spruce drags the preacher out into the square.

“I told you I would be back,” they say.

Thon echoes, from the shade. Krrakateyen insists on shade. “They return, for you, and now you must listen. They return, for you, and we must watch you fall.

“Fall, and forget your life. Forget your cruelty, forget your wounds, forget your hate, forget your guidance, forget all that you were, and be something else.”

His last words mark a failure. Speak too directly of the all-hunter. Thon echoes them anyway— “Kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you, kill….”

“Dead?”

“Very, pup.”

“Na’akoma onune, alu sirr, na’akoma onune,” thon murmurs. His unbreathing soul should rest, so it may forget its cruelty.

“Your preacher is gone. I am dissapointed in him,” thon says, in his voice. Something close to his voice. A light, kind thing related to his voice, that projects like an echoing pack-call.

“He was unworthy of you.”

Looking into the forming crowd, thon tears off thons veil and speaks— “Your predators, the blood-drinking people, don’t even have to consume your entire souls. They are not required to, as I am. If they threaten your lives, then yes, end them swiftly and feed them to the earth. But let them end. Let them end, as painlessly as they can end, in hopes you’ll be given the same mercy.”

Thon breathes. Many of them, so many of them, are fully grown. Fully grown without yet knowing their relationship with the world itself.

“I will return, one day. We will. And I will show you the mercy you show your predators, understood?”

Arguments. Immediately. Thon cuts them down with solutions, and glares at the one who asks, “How else would we teach our children to defend themselves from monsters?”

“Do you not know how to teach? Do you not know how to teach? You have blades and knowledge and hands to make models with. You have blades and knowledge and bodies near-identical to those of your predators.

“If you cannot teach your pups to defend themselves, then you are worse than incompetent, and you find another teacher.”

Thon appoints a new leader. More arguments. “Fine. If you will not listen to one woman, then the council shall be all of them.” Thon laughs, more closely imitating the human sound. “If they are meant to serve you, then they must lead. How else would they be able to give you what you need?”

Rumbling another growl, thon says, “You could have allied with your monsters. Given them blood in exchange for protection, used your cursed metal on yourselves to protect against unwanted bites.”

Like the not-wolves humans keep to guard their livestock.

How did these pups not think of that?

Nightcaller returns home with a vampire pup, plenty of food, and a bag with the preacher’s head in it.

“Come, pup. We must gather blankets to make a nest. For a… ‘sleepover,’ I think Bugchaser calls them.”

So they do.

“Mo xalu, ki’ikik Ksatinaksir?” Oscar looks up at thon. “Still alive, they who keep picking at wounds?”

They say something about being ‘un-dead.’ Ksaksaxalu, which is worse than nonsense, but at least they’re better. Onunaksirr, maybe.

It takes about three trips to make a proper nest.

Nightcaller sits beside it, scooping the soft, creamy brains from the preacher’s skull. “Same way I’m going to kill you!” thon echoes once, twice, thrice, quadrice, quintice. Quieter, fading, but in the same tone as the preacher. His last words.

Thon cackles. “Did you? Did you succeed, Bradshaw? Is Spruce alive?”

Oscar stares at thon.

“Why?”

“Spruce wasn’t going to eat him. And I like the taste.”

“Revenge,” Krrakateyen says simply. Thon chirps, patting em on the head.

“Oh. Oscar, this is my new pup: Krrakateyen. Krrakateyen, Oscar and Katy—Katy who is not here—are both vampires like you.

“I found it in the ‘church’ and it bit me. It’s adorable. Its name means thinking-bite, and it likes the shade. Apparently vampires can’t go in the sun. Katy must have thought it obvious—I never see her in the sun, and thought it was for normal reasons.”

Curling up in the nest, thon yawns.

“M’normal,” ey mumble, tucking emself into thons arms.

If thon wakes up with both Bugchaser and Krrakateyen draped over thons body, well. Oscar’s confused stare makes it more than adorable. Ey’re freezing, she’s warm, and thon is apparently a furnace. It’s the natural order of things, really.

Axanu Lelata Translations:

basic pronunciation: /x/ = h as in have, double r = rolled r, letters always make the same sounds. Good luck because I’m not doing the approx. pronunciation for whole phrases, and I’m not breaking down repeat words in phrases. (a’alu = alu because Nightcaller’s dialect is. different.)

Ikilawo ekan onatinaka: hunter that fixes, hunter who brings new beginnings [ikilawo (hunter)] [ekan (for, do)] [onat (beginning) + tinaka (mend, repair)]

Mo surrunilutat kekone, wanuxalu Au’onatekone: on a blood-drinking path, matriarch/pack-leader Spruce? [mo (question)] [surrune (drink) + ilutat (blood)] [wanuxalu (leader, matriarch)] [au (stong) + onat (beginning) + kekone (path)]

Iromunewa nem wanuxalu Au’onatekone: justice from/of pack-leader Spruce

Ksaxa (k-sah-ha): unbreathing, euphemism for dead [ksa (no, negation) + xa (breathe)]

Rrukaraya (rue-kah-rah-yah): growl, fury

Xosaxalu, ki’ikik sirr. Ane rrauaksir ue, rrauaksir ue, aksir ue, ki’ikik surrunilutat. Xosaxalu: calm, pup of mine. I’ll guard you, protect you, keep you, blood-drinking pup. Calm. [xosax (lungs, breathe) + a’alu (soul)] [ki’ikik (pup)] [sirr (my, mine, to claim)] [ane (I, me)] [rrauaksir (guard, protect)] [ue (you)] [aksir (have, keep)] [surrune (drink) + ilutat (blood)]

Ue krrakat iko’en yene. Io’a. Io’a kekomi, ki’ikik sirr. Krrakateyen sirr: you think before biting. Yes. That’s good here/now, pup of mine. My Thinking-bite. [krrakat (bite, crunch)] [iken (far, distant) + o’one (close, now)] [yene (think, know)] [io’a (yes)] [kekone (path) + koma (here, now) + i’i (one)] [krrakata (bite) + yene (think)]

Axanu lelata (ah-ha-new leh-la-tah): the mimic language [axanu (people)] [lelata (speak)]

Na’akoma onune, alu sirr, na’akoma onune: return to the earth, soul of mine, return to the earth [na’at (again, repeat) + koma (here, now)] [onune (down, ground)] [a’alu (soul)]

Mo xalu, ki’ikik Ksatinaksir: still alive, pup Openscar? Lit. Question: breathe-soul, pup who refuses to mend? [xa (breathe) + a’alu (soul)] [ksa (no, not) + tinaka (mend) + aksir (keep)]

Ksaksaxalu (k-sah-k-sah-ha-loo): undead, not-unbreathing [ksa (not, negation) + ksa (not, negation) + xa (breathe)]

Onunaksirr (oh-noon-ack-seer): Deathclaimed, lit. Earth-keep [onune (down, earth) + aksir (keep)]

•••

Old Spruce Inn Masterpost | Nightcaller Masterpost

[paintcrab]

Perching Senkrrakaraya! (pupil shapes + actually thinking about guard clothes under the cut)

(click to see better)

Senkrrakaraya, perched on a shelf in the pantry-den. Aer wide, glowing pupils look down and right, at someone we can’t see. A black skirt made of four pointed leather parts (painted with a stylized sun eye on the front) is the only part of the guard uniform ae’re wearing. Four sun eyes in dark paint run down aer arm: complex on the shoulder, and simple at the wrist. Sun-themed eye paint in the same colour embellishes the undereye stripe used to protect aer eyes from the sun.

Senkrrakaraya likes perching, especially when new people are weird about aer mental issues and ae need to get away.

Ae see a mind healer about it, but that doesn’t stop new packmates from thinking ae need THEIR intervention and THEIR protection. Which means completely misreading aer cues and refusing to listen to aem. Making aer issues worse.

Mimics have reflective eyes and slit pupils, which means they can look dramatic in cute or spooky ways. They call those eyes ilutakasetom yanox, which translates to “eclipse eyes” [ilutat (blood) + kasetom (moon)] [yane (sight, to see) + woxas (body)], and it’s the only time pupils are visible without intense eye contact (most have black or deep brown eyes).

(click to see better)

Both images are the same collection of coloured Senkrrakaraya sketches. In the left image, aer pupils are hard to see, so the right one outlines them in red: that is the only difference between them. The top left drawing of eir face has aem smiling, with slit pupils, and aer ears pinned back in rage, silently warning the viewer to back off. On the top right, aer ears are tipped up, and aer pupils are big and round, so ae look soft and happy. Bottom left corner is a sad-scared face, with aer eyes shut and ears pinned back. In the middle, we have aem holding a spear, in dark leather armour with the day guard eye-sun symbol. Bottom right two are aem ripping a bit of meat with aer sharp teeth, and aem with longer hair and a mysterious expression.

Still figuring out the guard clothes, but the central theme is leather armour with maybe a bit of metal, which can be toned down or amplified depending on the person (simplified for peaceful areas and/or calmer people). The basic symbols and silhouettte will get ironed out enough for a lorepost eventually. I still struggle with clothing.

•••

Character Masterpost

[paintcrab]

First Snowfall (mimzomworld story)

look okay I just wanted to write a soft thing

contains: pulling of one (1) tooth, Sharpteeth’s first snowfall, flashbacks, me losing the battle against conlanging all the things, and a story about wolves

Conlang pronouns: ial/iakir/ia^exun (maps onto it/its/itself, healer pronouns) (yes I did change the symbol from [’] to [^] because there is no way I’m managing to put [ʔ] everywhere without getting frustrated)

•••

“Here,” Deathstalker says, tugging sleep-mittens onto Sharpteeth’s hands.

Chirping, ey touch eir scratched-up neck, squinting eir eyes shut and bumping eir face into iakir hip. The gloves are soft. They won’t let em hurt emself.

Ey sit down, and let ial floss most of eir teeth. The humans brush eir teeth, when they can, but eir teeth still bleed when flossed.

Teeth clamp shut over iakir hands. Whining, ey lick iakir wounds. Let ial look. “It’s broken, pup. I need to take it out, so a new one will grow in its place.”

“Fix?”

Ial opens iakir medicine bag, and checks iakir measurement four times. Five times: pups are fragile. “It will fix it, but you need to drink this first, and let me touch it.”

After drinking the medicine, ey clamp eir mouth shut. Flinch when ial moves iakir hands.

“Sweetheart,” ial says, combing fingers through eir hair. “If we leave that tooth, it will keep hurting, and I’ll still have to take it out. It will be okay.

“Press it, and tell me if it hurts.”

“Fix!”

“Soon.” Calmly, ial lets em whine and tremble and press eir hands on eir neck. The tooth comes out. Ial rinses eir mouth with cold water, to stop the bleeding, and tells em it’s over.

Ey keep trembling until they’re in bed, when ial shows em the sound of a wolf howling. Deathstalker is, apparently, not allowed to stop making sounds until ey’ve heard every animal in the world.

Every animal in the world is a wolf, two insects, and fourteen and a half birds.

Chirping softly, ial closes iakir eyes and falls asleep too.

Snow. Holding open winter mittens until ey shove eir little hands in, and helping em wriggle into eir coat, ial fusses over em. Tugs eir hood up and does the buttons on eir coat. Lets em button eir boots.

Sun-masks have a slit for the eyes, to protect them from the winter sun. Of course, ey take it off eir third step out the door.

Ey stare at the sky.

Stare.

“That’s snow,” ial says gently. “It’s snowing weather. Do you remember weather, sweetheart?”

“Inside. Cold. Bad speak. Bad pup.” Whining, ey reach hands for Deathstalker until ial picks up eir trembling body. Squeezing em, ial murmurs comforting things and tries to remember what helps ial with iakir ilutaziwene.

Counting breaths. Naming their surroundings for em, because ey still don’t speak much. Sharpteeth finds comfort in pressure.

Ial hasn’t had a bad episode in seasons, and guiding iakir pup through one is a heavier burden than dealing with iakir own. Ey’re small.

Ey’re so small.

Crushing ial with little hands, ey beg the flashback to stop. Beg Deathstalker to fix it.

“I can’t.

“I can’t,” ial chokes. Breathes through the memory of choking water.

Breathes, careful not to drop em.

Ilutaziwene has made iakir caretaker-call linger well past iakir seventeenth winter, and it’s that broken sound—that keening, desperate thing—that gets em to understand. “There’s nothing I can do about your memories.

“I’ll get you a mind-healer, and teach you my path through them, but I can’t stop it from happening.”

“Snow.”

“Do you want to go back inside?”

Ey tuck eir face into iakir shoulder. “Let’s get you some warm food, then. And some blankets, and I can tell you the story of the Wolf now that you won’t keep me up for it.”

Senkrrakaraya claims another blanket. A fluffy blanket. Growls, sitting on Teketsaluxone^e’s lap. With a cup. The cup has something sweet and warm and red in it.

“What do you know about wolves, sweetheart?”

It echoes the long, pretty sound from last night. Ial squeezes it gently.

“Yes. Their voices are distance, and ours are memory.

“Auwu^ekawo taught us their call, and we taught them our traps.”

Sipping iakir warm drink—the one Senkrrakaraya isn’t allowed to have even though it’s the same and it wants it—ial says, “At the beginning of the path: when souls did not have clear shapes, when echoes were silent, and the seasons were all mixed up into one….”

Iakir voice is warm, and rumbly, and ial fidgets with iakir shirt until Senkrrakaraya tap-tap-taps at ial.

“Okay, okay. At the beginning of the path, the first of us met auwu^ekrrakawo, and auwu^ekrrakawo met us. They watched us set our traps, and asked what they were. What they were for.” It tips its head. No voice, but it wants to know.

“‘I have your endurance,’ au^axanu said. ‘I have your teeth, and your claws, but I do not have your speed.’”

Teketsaluxone^e leans in, and presses iakir forehead to the top of its head. “Auwu^ekawo can run very, very fast, and walk very long,” ial whispers.

Auwu^ekrrakawo did not understand. “The deer do not have our packs, and we do not have the fox’s nimble form. I have your eyes, but I do not have your voices.”

“This is a trap,” Au^axanu said. “I know where prey goes, so I let my traps wait and catch while I hunt other things.

“This one catches hopping-prey leaving the tunnels. I also have a fish-trap in the river, if you want to check it with me. Sometimes, it catches bears.”

“Do you hunt bears?” Bears are krrakawo, not lewo, so Auwu^ekrrakawo didn’t think so.

“No,” Au^axanu said. “Not if they stay away from my traps, and not if they have pups to care for. But they take my fish, and spoil my traps, if I’m not quick enough.”

There was no bear. But there was a bird, tangled up with a fish in its beak, so Auwu^ekrrakawo ate it. “If I give you my voice, can I use your traps again?”

“Yes,” said Au^axanu. “I will share my traps with you, if you share your voice with me.”

Auwu^ekrrakawo had seen Kīrīlewo^etsu, had seen them mock Au^axanu by flying just out of reach, and have all their voices taken. Some Kīrīlewo^etsu still sing, but they can never speak.

“Share?”

“I want to learn your far-voice, and share it with you.”

So Auwu^ekrrakawo became Auwu^ekawo and Tsakinauwu^ek. Souls were still young, then, and while Tsakinauwu^ek wanted to stay with us, Auwu^ekawo didn’t.

Teketsaluxone^e tries to tell Senkrrakaraya ial isn’t the best storyteller, but it sticks its hand over iakir mouth.

“Auwu,” it says. “Mo auwu?”

Teketsaluxone^e tips iakir head back, and makes a strong auwu sound. Quietly, but it’s still strong when it’s quiet. “If you’re alone,” ial says. “If you’re alone, and you need someone to find you, you make that sound very, very loudly.”

Ial shows it two more: one to say it’s safe and one that says someone is coming to help.

Holding iakir hand, flipping it over so it can see red-black-red-black-red, it growls. Its hands are yellow where iakir are red, and it wants red. Red is Teketsaluxone^e, red is the sweet-drink, and the buttons, and—red is warm and bad things are cold.

But it doesn’t know how to say red.

Axanelelati Words:

ial (ial) / iakir (ia.kir) / ia^exun (ia.^e.xun): healer pronouns. Using this set because I want to and also using ne/nem/nir/nirself means “nem” can either be the conlang word or the pronoun and I don’t want to worry about that (okay, fine, I just want to use my conlang pronouns because some of them carry more meaning that my substitutes can’t capture)

Ilutaziwene (i.lu.ta.zi.we.ne): trauma, literally “bleeding memories”

Senkrrakaraya (sen.krra.ka.ra.ya): Sharpteeth (name source [here])

Teketsaluxone^e (te.kets.a.lu.xon.e^e): Deathstalker, “One who stalks Death: who will not lose sight of its path” [tekaksir (catch/stalk) + letsaluxonune (Death) + kekone (path)]

Auwu^ekawo (au.wu.^e.ka.wo) / Auwu^ekrrakawo (au.wu.^e.krra.ka.wo): wolf [auwu (“awoo”) + krrakawo (predator)]

Au^axanu (au.a.xa.nu): — people

Krrakawo (krra.ka.wo): predator, hunter, animals that eat prey

Lewo (le.wo): prey, animals that are food (also means meal)

Kīrīlewo^etsu (kii.rii.le.wo.^e.tsu): birds, chirping-prey (uncounted plural)

Tsakinauwu^ek (tsa.kin.au.wu.^ek.): dog, literally “beside-wolf”

Auwu (au.wu): onematopoeia for howl. Like “awoo” but. Hm. The way I pronounce it, “awoo” = “awu” so, yeah, pretty much

•••

Senkrrakaraya (Sharpteeth) Masterpost

[paintcrab]

Sleepy Mimics 2: Mimren Edition

(click to see clearly)

Shipful’s family sleeping on a beige background, digital art. This is right after the first haircut argument, so their hair is to their shoulders, and they’re sandwiched between Moon and Lifetaker. Wreckwarning is holding Moonseer, vir pup, and eir hand is holding virs. Knowledgekeeper is on nir own, and so is Findship, who has one eye open. Moonknower is between them and Lifetaker, and is visibly a hybrid: with a strange eye marking and more mimzom nostrils—between aer eyes and mouth instead of at eyebrow height.

Shipful has siblings who aren’t headmates, which is something I did not think of before I drew this. Moonseer (Moon + Wreckwarning) & Moonknower (Moon + Knowledgekeeper) aren’t the only two pups in the five-marriage, but I struggled to draw this collection of sleeping people, so let’s all pretend they’re awake, alright? (Shipful = Findship + Wreckwarning, but they asked Lifetaker for a collective name when they realized they were like Moon, so Shipwreck and Shipbait became Shipful)

Moonseer is cute way of saying prophet, I think, so it’s a pun. Technically Wreckwarning’s name is Wreckseer—the word shared with Moonseer means that—but I like the alliteration. Moon’s collective name is Ikatomuzen, literally “Moonpeace/balance,” but the point of it is meant to be simplicity, so I just say “Moon.”

Fun fact! ​The entire reason I drew this was to confirm that mimren pups have smaller flippers. And I forgot they sleep in hammocks. Because they live on a ship.

Moon’s Naming System, Shipful’s Naming System, and Axanu Lelata:

Moon’s name is ikatomu (moon) + zeno (balance, equilibrium). The word “zeno” (balance, peace) is related to “zose” (is, that, equals) through “zenotse” (fair, even, equality/equity)

Every name in thons alu’ewanuxa uses Ikatomuzen as its root: Ikatomuzenisemyen (Moonlight) and Ikatomuzenikinetoxalu (Moondweller), for example. Ikatomuzenoyenekoma’atsu (Moonknowers) and Ikatomuzenikenetsu (Moondrifters) are kxi’alu (parts, alters) aligned with Moonlight and Moondweller, because thon developed a system of primary and secondary names once thons headcount got too big.

Secondary names are collective names for kxi’alu’etsu who are aligned with older kxi’alu. They have nicknames, but not traditional names. A lot of them are based on mythological figures or characters from stories, so they do get called “alu nem nālam” (souls of stories).

Nem Rrutekoskrrakata, for example, is a spirit-god named Stormbite: a trickster who eats ships, but can be reasoned with. Its personal interpretation of its source is that it’s one of Death’s kxi’alu (death is plural because it comes in many forms).

Shipful is auetokurrasa (ship) + ikenaune (full, to fill a container). Etokurrasa’ikenaun.

Shipwreck is Etokurrasaksenak (break), Shipbait is Etokurrasazezunolewo (out-think/confuse prey), Shiplight is Etokurrasa’isemyen (know light)… you get the idea. Only the first part of their collective name is used as the root.

•••

Pack Masterpost

[paintedshell-hermitcrab]

My favourite thing about Axanu Lelata is that I came up with counting numbers up to ten, and decided to use them as suffixes. Which means “i’i” (one) is used as the suffix “-i” to specify that something is singular, and all the words are vaguely plural by default.

HOWEVER, I then decided that there should be an indistinct (unquantified) plural suffix, to clarify uncounted multiples. Which means all words are technically both singular and plural depending on context. Also “te’i” and “tse’i” both mean “two,” but the “-te” suffix is only used when the letter “e” comes before it. Because the suffixes use hopping or echo vowels, and the rule is that “u’u” doesn’t exist and is instead “u’e,” which I think—need to check—also translates to the echo vowels, but I don’t know it off the top of my head.

…technically, “Axanu Lelata” should be “Axanu Lelatai” which I could shorten to “Axanu’elelatai” or “Axanelelati.”