50th of Summer, 516 AV
It had been many times Aislyn had been asked to speak on her favorited deity’s behalf, and it had been many times she had spoken almost the same speech every time.
But this, this was a new question.
”...They?” Aislyn had never questioned her choice of pronouns on Ionu’s part. Ionu had never presented a gender to her, so she had never assigned a gender to them. It seemed wrong to assume something you couldn't possibly know of someone so infinitely powerful. ”There's no punchline, if you consider this to be some sort of joke.”
There were plenty of Alvads that assigned ‘he’ or ‘she’ or a combination of both to Ionu, but that hadn't seemed quite right, either. The deity of illusions presented themselves not as both but as neither, as far as Aislyn could see. ”It seems strange to me that people can sooner comprehend a city that streets constantly move than a deity that presents no gender.” She paused for a moment, considering her thoughts. ”And I have seen many strange things.” She had always been extremely defensive of her city, her deity, her faith, her beliefs, but it was rare she was actually given an opportunity to defend them. ”Thus, they.”
On her paper, Aislyn had essentially finished her replication of Dexius’ key.
For a moment, she stared at it, thinking. Presumably the man would want the drawing, but it would be useful to have such a thing committed to her own paper. The words on the key were interesting; Aislyn had never seen such an engraving on Alvadas’ signature trinkets. Each item was unique, a strange size, colour, or shape. The only equivalent thing that each key held within its appearance was that it was equivalently inequal. No two houses the same, no two keys the same. But words, words were an oddity.
Folding the paper over, Aislyn was careful to keep the edges equal as she applied pressure to the parchment. When she unfolded it again, a lighter copy of the key was transcribed onto the other side. Charcoal smudged, she had mentioned this to the man herself. Most of the time, such smudging was an inconvenience; but every once in awhile, something very, very convenient came out of it.
Along the fold line, the artist pulled the paper to either side, tearing it gently. As Dexius muttered about angles and restarted on his own drawing yet again, Aislyn began to trace over the light lines of the copy, until the two charcoal pieces were practically identical. Apart from the obvious fact of the words being completely backwards in the copy. Whoops.
No matter. She’d trace the copy later, or just deal with having to read mirrored text. Or she could give Dexius the copy and keep the original for herself; let him deal with wondering what had gone wrong with the text on the page.
The Symenestra’s tales of the difficulty of common rung empty in Aislyn’s ears. She had never spoken anything but common in her lifetime, leaving her with no point of comparison. Languages would certainly be useful, but to her it seemed like the time to learn them had long since passed. She’d had several interactions in which words or phrases had been picked up, of course, but to call her anything near sufficient was inaccurate. Then again, she had never put much effort into learning such skills. Perhaps in future she’d try again. When the topic switched to something more interesting, however, her apathy quickly dissipated. This whole situation reminds me slightly of the past...
”Your past?” You and me both, bandito. ”...She?” The antagonistic way the man spoke still pulled at her nerves, but curiosity still prevailed. This was a story, and she intended to hear the end of it. Rolling out her shoulders, Aislyn set Dexius’ copy of the drawing onto the “table” in front of him, slipping her own copy into her journal. The slightest hint of interest faded into her voice as she spoke again. ”Do tell.”
But this, this was a new question.
”...They?” Aislyn had never questioned her choice of pronouns on Ionu’s part. Ionu had never presented a gender to her, so she had never assigned a gender to them. It seemed wrong to assume something you couldn't possibly know of someone so infinitely powerful. ”There's no punchline, if you consider this to be some sort of joke.”
There were plenty of Alvads that assigned ‘he’ or ‘she’ or a combination of both to Ionu, but that hadn't seemed quite right, either. The deity of illusions presented themselves not as both but as neither, as far as Aislyn could see. ”It seems strange to me that people can sooner comprehend a city that streets constantly move than a deity that presents no gender.” She paused for a moment, considering her thoughts. ”And I have seen many strange things.” She had always been extremely defensive of her city, her deity, her faith, her beliefs, but it was rare she was actually given an opportunity to defend them. ”Thus, they.”
On her paper, Aislyn had essentially finished her replication of Dexius’ key.
For a moment, she stared at it, thinking. Presumably the man would want the drawing, but it would be useful to have such a thing committed to her own paper. The words on the key were interesting; Aislyn had never seen such an engraving on Alvadas’ signature trinkets. Each item was unique, a strange size, colour, or shape. The only equivalent thing that each key held within its appearance was that it was equivalently inequal. No two houses the same, no two keys the same. But words, words were an oddity.
Folding the paper over, Aislyn was careful to keep the edges equal as she applied pressure to the parchment. When she unfolded it again, a lighter copy of the key was transcribed onto the other side. Charcoal smudged, she had mentioned this to the man herself. Most of the time, such smudging was an inconvenience; but every once in awhile, something very, very convenient came out of it.
Along the fold line, the artist pulled the paper to either side, tearing it gently. As Dexius muttered about angles and restarted on his own drawing yet again, Aislyn began to trace over the light lines of the copy, until the two charcoal pieces were practically identical. Apart from the obvious fact of the words being completely backwards in the copy. Whoops.
No matter. She’d trace the copy later, or just deal with having to read mirrored text. Or she could give Dexius the copy and keep the original for herself; let him deal with wondering what had gone wrong with the text on the page.
The Symenestra’s tales of the difficulty of common rung empty in Aislyn’s ears. She had never spoken anything but common in her lifetime, leaving her with no point of comparison. Languages would certainly be useful, but to her it seemed like the time to learn them had long since passed. She’d had several interactions in which words or phrases had been picked up, of course, but to call her anything near sufficient was inaccurate. Then again, she had never put much effort into learning such skills. Perhaps in future she’d try again. When the topic switched to something more interesting, however, her apathy quickly dissipated. This whole situation reminds me slightly of the past...
”Your past?” You and me both, bandito. ”...She?” The antagonistic way the man spoke still pulled at her nerves, but curiosity still prevailed. This was a story, and she intended to hear the end of it. Rolling out her shoulders, Aislyn set Dexius’ copy of the drawing onto the “table” in front of him, slipping her own copy into her journal. The slightest hint of interest faded into her voice as she spoke again. ”Do tell.”
"Speech" - Thought
