Archive | January 5, 2016

Languary Day CAUGHT UP! Start on grammar

Questions from Zompist’s Language Construction Kit

This is a work in progress and also a learning exercise. I don’t have all – even most of – the vocabulary, so pls. be patient.

Also, it’s a worldbuilding exercise at the same time…

Is your language fusional, agglutinative, or isolating?

I think I’m going to go with fusional, in part to try something utterly different from Caleyen. It also gives me the option of moving one of the dialects to analytic or agglgglgluglug… *cough* Agglutinative.

How do you form inflections?

…Not sure yet!

I’m /thinking/ prefixes. It suits the way the sentences feel to me. But on the other hand, I’m fonder of suffixes for comprehension. That could be because English is my first language and I’ve only studied romance languages….

After a bit of research: Suffixes it is! Mostly.

Side note: Negation appears at the sentence’s beginning or end, depending on context. That really goes in the Sentence order post.

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!AU! The Hawk in Cloverleaf, continued. !AU!

An alternate-universe[AU] continuation of this
Cya had in her possession an uncomfortable and flappy Hunting-Hawk.

She’d considered the possibility of getting her hands on the Administration of Addergoole before, but in none of her situations had she ended up with a mostly-willing Luca Hunting-Hawk sitting at her kitchen table, cutting up fruit for a tart like a normal Kept.

Cya was in over her head and she knew it. He wasn’t a kid. He didn’t need…

Everyone needed something. She pushed aside her pastry – handy having a Kept who could steal all the heat out of her marble rolling surface for her – and sat down across from Luke.

“Tell me,” she began, and quashed the surge of guilt she still got for forcing answers out, “what do you need?”

He mantled. She’d have laughed about it, except he clearly was trying to control it and failing, which was kind of nerve-wracking and a little sad. “I need a bigger knife.”

He’d dismantled seventeen peaches into paper-thin slices. She was going to have to can peaches, or bake pies for the entire neighborhood. “I think you’ve cut enough peaches.”

He pushed the knife over to her. “I don’t need anything. I was just fine…”

“Tell you what.” She made her voice gentle. He might have centuries on her, but she knew this particular dance far better than he did. “I’ll ask you again in a week. For now…” She eyed the pile of peaches. “Why don’t you get the sugar, cornstarch and lemon juice, and I’ll start on a few more pie crusts.”

There was always something with the pie, every time.

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Languary Day “4”: Orthography

yay!
Okay, this is probably how I will write these in the Roman alphabet.

Consonants:
b, t, d, ph (ɸ), f, th, ss*, sh, h, pf, ch(/x/), [still-not-sure-I-have-a-J], r, l, m, n

* I could totally do this as “s” but I like the visual susurration of the double s.
** This is a very fricative language. I felt like it.

That was easy.

Vowels

uh u
oe(oo) o
ah(ae) a
eh e
ee ea
ih i

Alphabet…. I’m still considering style, much less actual letters. And numbers. Since it’s a real-world system, they may use arabic numbers.

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Planning for Spring, a ficlet for the Christmas Prompt Call

written to Kelkyag‘s prompt.

“I’ll start with carrots,” Agnieszka decided. “And then green onions. Chives, too. And then peas. Peas like it a little cold, right? Spinach and lettuce and start some tomatoes inside, and some peppers…”

“I’ll build a pavilion,” Natalia mused. “And an outdoor shower. It gets pretty warm, yeah? I’ll rig up a shadecloth or something for your plants. Let the goats out to frolic – I’ll have to set up a fence, if that wide plain over there doesn’t turn out to be a lake. Swimming! A nice big platform for proper sunbathing…”

The colony pod for Sieamans III was climate-controlled, with Sol-style sunlamps and a well-stocked hydroponic garden, a lap pool and a holographic relaxation deck. With the long, long seasons, the colonists needed it. But somehow, none of that compared to the daydreams, planning for the year when spring would finally get here.

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December Prompt Call Still open!

My December Prompt Call (Theme: some for you, more for me) is still open! We are $5 in tips from everyone getting more words on their prompts!


Check it out!

http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1031669.html

or on Livejournal:

http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/1140792.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1040737.html. You can comment there.

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Dinner, a ficlet for the December Prompt Call for Wyste

Written to [personal profile] wyste‘s prompt

There were things Taran expected from Ei. He expected dinner ready when he got home from work. He expected ridiculous movies and cuddling and a certain needy affection that he loved. He expected obedience when they were playing and backtalk when they weren’t, and an eye-searing sense of fashion that made office parties quite entertaining.

He did not expect to come home and find dinner for three on the table, and Ei sitting patiently on the couch with another guy. Ei was smiling, but it was a nervous smile, and the guy – shaggy beard, perfectly groomed hair, terrifyingly blue eyes – was smiling reassuringly and patting Ei’s hands.

“This, ah, this is Joseph.” Ei sprang to his feet. “This is Joseph, and I want to bring him home for dinner.” Taran’s partner jutted out his chin in nervous defiance. “And for good.”

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Bound Up, a story of Fae Apoc for the Christmas Prompt Call (@Rix_Scaedu)

To rix_scaedu‘s prompt Fae Apoc, probably around 2009, 2010.

The call came from an unknown number, straight to voicemail. When he listened to it hours later, his heart dropped.

“It’s time.”

There was no return number, no way for him to protest. He called his assistant and had him rearrange his schedule for the next three days. “Something’s come up. Family matter.”

It was only a lie if you had a narrow view of what family meant. He told his pilot where to go, then told him to wait two days before returning without him. “I’m not sure how long this will take.”

That was absolutely the truth.

He straightened his tie, smoothed his sleeves one more time, and made sure his vest was properly buttoned. Her house was not so large as all that, but rather than screaming of new money, its old bones whispered it in every column.

He rang the doorbell, and had the always-slightly-unnerving experience of hearing nothing. He waited, hands loose at his sides. The first time, he’d rung it again. And again. Most people only did that once.

Her newest minion answered the door. The butler suit looked perfect and perfectly normal, unless you knew where to look. He didn’t look. He didn’t have to; he’d worn it, if only for an uncomfortable day.

He didn’t introduce himself. He didn’t have to. The butler bowed. “She will see you in the south garden room.”

“Thank you.” He nodded politely to the person playing butler, because it never hurt to be friendly, and headed to the south garden room.

The Gyrfalcon was waiting for him. She smiled and gestured him to a seat. A chair; this meeting was starting out better than he’d feared. He sat, making it a bow.

“It’s time.”

“So your message said, sa’ Gyrfalcon. It’s not a good time, though. My business…”

“Your business was a gift, no?”

“The seeds, yes, but…”

“A gift with strings, correct?”

He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. A gift with strings.” But it had been five years, and he’d stopped waiting for the call to come.

“Your business is in a place where it could do well with you stepping back for a month or two.”

A month or two. He could live with a month or two.

“I’ve taken the liberty of sending some texts to your assistant. Everything will be fine, and, as long as you are discreet, nobody will suspect a thing.”

“I’m always discreet.” He dropped to his knees, the habit still there in his muscles. “We might as well begin now, then. Sa’ Gyrfalcon -”

“Not to me, darling, although your enthusiasm is notable. No.”

“No?” He swallowed. His former Mentor was a known quantity. He could trust her when she said his business would be fine; she’d helped him start it, after all. “Then…”

“There is a young woman, about your age. She wasn’t my student, but a cy’ra of yours did her a disservice. In turn, we are going to do her a service.”

“We.” His throat was dry. He stayed where he was. He’d made a deal, after all.

“We. One year under her collar, and your debt to me will be considered paid.”

“One year-! You said two months!”

“I said you’d be away from your business for a month or two. She understands that your business is important, and has promised to allow you to maintain it. As I said, as long as you are discreet, there should be no problem.”

She stood. She was a tall woman, taller still from this vantage point. “She’ll be here within an hour. We might as well get you ready, dear.”

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Languary Day… Three: Word Order & Magic

Sentence order for Whispers is
Verb Object (Object adjective) (adverb) Subject (subject adjective)
subject is the portion most likely to be dropped, as in Spanish, if it is clear from verb conjugation.

This appears to be the order – or close to it – that I like for magic-using languages.

Which leads to a note – unlike Old Tongue (The magic language in Fae Apoc/Addergoole), Whispers is not a Magic Language in and of itself. One CAN do magic in other languages (and some groups not mentioned here yet do). It’s just that the Institution and its subgroups primarily use Whispers in their often-highly-ceremonial magical practices.

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