Nikolai
Not all truths
Belong to the light
Belong to the light
When Wessex had asked Nikolai to join her in paying a 'visit' to the Old God shrine in the Feverlands, at first, he'd been confused. But when she'd explained their goal, he'd become excited. Eagerly anticipating their visit, the scholar had thoroughly prepared. What was the fun in simply saying 'fuck you'? That seemed too tame in his opinion,
Instead, he'd spent a few days scowering the Atheneum and his own collection for as many insulting phrases he could find. Ones long dead, ones from fallen languages, or even just simple translations. He wrote them all down on a scroll and pocketed it for their trip. Nikolai was rather proud of his list. The time and work he'd spent on it was worth it.
The classic 'Fuck you!'
'Siktir Git', for a hearty 'Fuck you/off'.
'As To Thialo', for a good old 'Got to hell'.
And he found a few in an old dead language that had various meanings, but all roughly got the same message across.
'Vescere bracis meis', 'Futue te ipsum', 'Podex perfectus es', and 'ututus et mori in igni'.
It wasn't a long list given that cross-referencing ancient curse words wasn't the easiest thing. Most past scholars were more concerned about more academic topics. But some had made the effort to write down the more colorful aspects of their mother tongues, and for that Nikolai was grateful.
Arriving at the shrine, Nikolai eagerly waited for Wessex. His scroll was tucked away safely, and he'd even snagged a vial of glitter from his mother's craft box. She'd been happy to let him have it when he'd explained his goal for the day and that Wessex would be there should anything happen.
Instead, he'd spent a few days scowering the Atheneum and his own collection for as many insulting phrases he could find. Ones long dead, ones from fallen languages, or even just simple translations. He wrote them all down on a scroll and pocketed it for their trip. Nikolai was rather proud of his list. The time and work he'd spent on it was worth it.
The classic 'Fuck you!'
'Siktir Git', for a hearty 'Fuck you/off'.
'As To Thialo', for a good old 'Got to hell'.
And he found a few in an old dead language that had various meanings, but all roughly got the same message across.
'Vescere bracis meis', 'Futue te ipsum', 'Podex perfectus es', and 'ututus et mori in igni'.
It wasn't a long list given that cross-referencing ancient curse words wasn't the easiest thing. Most past scholars were more concerned about more academic topics. But some had made the effort to write down the more colorful aspects of their mother tongues, and for that Nikolai was grateful.
Arriving at the shrine, Nikolai eagerly waited for Wessex. His scroll was tucked away safely, and he'd even snagged a vial of glitter from his mother's craft box. She'd been happy to let him have it when he'd explained his goal for the day and that Wessex would be there should anything happen.
Some lie in wait
For you to step into the shadows
For you to step into the shadows
