Previous – Next

Sida A – Yasgrid

Yasgrid hadn’t intended to invent a new language. She was pretty sure she couldn’t have managed it if she’d tried. Thinking about all the differences between Elvish and Low Quand would have seemed like an insurmountable barrier. Sentence structure, verb tenses, shades of meaning on seemingly common words, and phrases with no direct translation at all. There was simply too much there to glue together bits and pieces of the two languages to make a single one that all could understand.

In her song, all she’d been reaching for was expression though. A capacity to convey to others the unity she and Nia felt, both within themselves and between themselves. How the two disparate pieces they’d brought together had fit better than either could have imagined.

It had taken time and exploration of their new lives, not to mention overcoming trials and forging connections, for each of them to understand the gift they’d been given, for them to see the things they could only have seen about themselves from an unimaged perspective.

The song had given that to Yasgrid, Nia’s beat had carried their speechless words into the hearts of those around them and that was the language Yasgrid needed had been born.

Because they weren’t alone.

So many of those around them were reevaluating the world they knew in light of the impossible things they’d experienced. So many of them saw within themselves a chance to be something new, even if the words and understanding of that truth might have eluded them.

Even among the people who were gathered who didn’t feel that divide, who had found a contentment in who they already were, there was no small measure of joy for those around them, or even for the idea of being free to confirm who they were since it was a choice that was freely made and confirmed.

To all those people, and from all of them, the new tongue emerged, words chosen not with care and precision but with a cloud of meanings and intent and ambiguity. Was there a ‘right’ way to speak? No. there were many right ways to speak. There were more methods of conveying almost any idea than in either Elvish or either of Quands, but the diversity was less a matter of muddy confusion and more about different styles of expression which told the listen as much or more about the speaker than the message they carried.

“I would love to think you planned this,” Nia said, speaking only to Yasgrid.

“But you know I’m not that clever,” Yasgrid said, turning her voice to wordless song to carry her joy at their new creation.

“Quite the contrary!” Nia’s objection was sharp and immediate. “You are one of the most clever people I know, and I remind you in whose company that is placing you.”

Had Naosha planned this, Yasgrid wondered? Or Marianne?

“”I don’t think it was them either,” Nia said. “I think we’ve had older help than that.”

And in the distance, beyond the horizon, Yasgrid heard gentle laughter on the forest winds.

Side B – Nia

Nia’s impression was that the Darkwood was laughing with them, rather than at them. At least she hoped the laughter was on their side. With something as old and deeply connected as the Darkwood though it paid to remember that you’d never really know all of it since there was so much of what it was that you hadn’t been there for and could never encounter.

“This isn’t going to be problem, is it?” she asked Yasgrid, confident in their song but feeling the weight of experience poking at her as a reminder that unintended consequences were, in fact, a thing.

“This will let Elves and Stonelings communicate more freely. Which is a change,” Yasgrid said, her audible voice still wordlessly rising and falling with Nia’s beats.

“And changes bring problems,” Nia agreed with a mental sigh.

“Or, maybe, new adaptations,” Yasgrid suggested. “With people able to speak more freely, rather than only the few we’ve seen so far, there’ll be collaborations that would never have come together otherwise.”

“Which will include collaborations around terrible ideas.”

“Inevitably there will be those as well.” Yasgrid didn’t sound worried about it, but that seemed to come more from an acceptance of the inevitable chaos than any evaluation of its severity.

“Saying ‘use this wisely’ is not going to change anything is it?” Nia wasn’t asking, but Yasgrid chose to answer anyways.

“I think the wisdom of how to use a gift well has to come from actually using it. We can suggest things that would ‘obviously’ be bad ideas, but its the actual doing that will likely bring the lesson home.”

“Do you think Kyra and Margrada are going to be upset?” Nia asked, with a touch more concern in her voice.

“I think if they disagreed with us, we’d already be hearing from them,” Yasgrid said, her conviction on that issue absolutely firm.

A warm, pleasant feeling spread through Yasgrid’s chest at the thought of Kyra watching over her. She’d spent so long tore and unsure of how Kyra felt about her, how she felt about Kyra, and whether there could be any place in the world for them together, that being able to feel at all certain about Kyra’s feelings was a delight she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to feel.

And that, she saw, was the final bit of the song that she and Nia had to share.

Not bragging about the love they’d found – though that was terribly tempting – but that their connection to each other, Nia and herself, didn’t cut them off from deep and meaningful connections to the women they loved. 

What they’d found together in the magic between them had never been an insular thing. They hadn’t turned inwards and focused only on each other, despite how present they’d been for one another. Far from it. It had been thanks to Nia’s support and encouragement and example that Yasgrid had even been able to believe in what she could have with Kyra.

Love was not a zero sum game. The more it was shared, the more it grew and the stronger it made everyone.

Previous – Next