16th of Zi'da, 718
*Speaking Rakahi
*Speaking Common
Scalvoris was an odd little city. A history rich in piracy, an island split into cities that couldn’t be more different if they tried but perhaps strangest of all was that there was never a day that wasn’t strange. But perhaps even stranger still was that so few would remember it, for any that participated would never know that had, fewer still would believe it. After all, who wouldn’t remember words that had spoken only moments before? Yet all over the city it was happening, to some in the middle of normal conversation:
“But what do you think it means?”
“No clue, red rain, the weather, them stars, theres something going on, dontcha agree, Don?”
The third man would look to the table blankly, his face losing pallor as he spoke, eyes falling half mast when the voice the gurgled out of him like death responded,
“Immortals only watch in disdain
For they know Scalvoris will run red again
But it will not be the just rain
All will suffer, as they enjoy our pain”
“What in the fek are you talking about?”
“Wacha mean? Don’t go yelling at me cause your drunk, Sam!”
“I’m not the one cracking poor jokes!”
And on the table would bicker, poor Don arguing till he was red in the face for reasons other than alcohol, the Biqaj woman staring in surprised wonder at what had just taken place. But Korva would know better than to stick around where a fight was brewing, slipping out to the streets where it would be much of the same. Only some were cursed to speak only in riddles, some coming cruelly from the mouths of children, as cruel words can.
“Momma see that there?
It will steal all your air
We best stay away
Lest sea monsters come to play”
The child was pointing at the waters glistening in the distance as her mother swept her up, hushing her urgently and judging by the pace of her walk Korva had no doubt where she was headed. Where many people were likely headed, straight to the Order for some sort of cure other than silence. But it rippled among everyone like someone had skipped a stone, now that the Biqaj had heard one person speak strangely, so too did everyone around her.
The sellers in the stall,
“But two for one
I’ll not be outdone
For that seller over there
They can’t compare
They not got any backbone
No blood on there hands
For there is no better food
Than those stolen from others hands”
The workers giving orders,
“You’ll do as I say
Or they’ll be Faldruns balls to pay
Not just the sea that will get you
It will be me too”
For once, the woman would wonder if opening her mouth would be worth it and just how much of these little rhymes were exactly as they seemed and how many were jokes of strange magic worked by Immortal or man. Yet it wouldn’t stop her from wandering and listening, lips pursed in thought as the voices mingled, deep and dark from throats it shouldn’t be possible or high and sweet with overtones of malice woven in the words. Now that she thought of if, even her thoughts seemed like strange poetry, far off from her usual tone but such was the day that would only grow darker still.
