"Ra" is what makes it the imperative, yes. Do-"command you" finish.
[This is so cute, and it shows as he just watches Ryn think through his considerations. His ears twitch when he's thinking, it's powerfully endearing.]
I called you my isne ul. You're lucky there are no pixies about to overhear that, or you'd be the subject of quite some attention for it.
I had a feeling. Seems we had rather the same idea — but as always, I'm freer with my flattery than you are.
[He tries to hide his smile for all of about two seconds before it pulls at his lips, making his whole expression brighten like the sun he'd been compared to.]
Pixies conceptualize light and the sun in the same way, with the same word. The same for darkness and the moon — the same word can be used for either. Sigun is sun or light. Ul is moon or darkness.
Belore'dalah in pixie is sigun-m. The reason why I'm more the charmer is I mentioned you were beautiful while I was at it.
[his face colors purple again, at the sight of that bright smile-- that right there is exactly why he chose the sun, and it isn't at all lost on him that in turn, even without knowing, thancred chose the moon.]
For yours, then- it would be asta aran'dalah. My fair moon. San is a separate word for darkness.
...but if you truly think you've done better, then allow me to even the score, belore suran'dalah.
The peoples of the First had a unique relationship with the concept of darkness. Little wonder the pixies would come to consolidate the concepts after a while — though they do have a separate word for "star".
[But now this is a challenge, and he sits back a little in his chair, pleased for the puzzle to chew over and eager to try his newfound knowledge on it.]
You named your cat Suran'dor. And I've seen how you treat your cat, so I'm more than convinced it's a favorable comparison. So if the suffix is the possessive, then "suran" is...
[...]
A noun I don't recall. Life? Did you call me the sun of your life?
Mm. Close, but not quite. I only mentioned the translation of her name once.
[it was a small test, but not one he's judging thancred on-- it isn't as though he ever calls suran'dor anything but her name, or 'lovely', or 'precious', or 'baby'.]
It's 'restoring heart', roughly.
[and he's fairly sure he can pick up that 'dor' is the verb.]
[After everything else, such a relatively minor clarification shouldn't get to him like this. But Rynlan has always been veritably dragonish in the way he guards his affections, doling them out sparingly and sparsely and sometimes never at all. Small wonder he'd appreciate the significance of clarifying a word like that so freely, and in a context that would allow him to immediately put two and two together.
He sits there a minute, just sort of taking that in, before offering, as painstaking as it is tentative: ]
[Are you revealing your heart to me? — well, based on the reaction he's elicited from the tentative attempt, that seems like a resounding yes.
His own injuries or not, it's just the most natural thing in the world to move to accommodate Rynlan, exactly as the other man expects him to. If he were at his best and most playful, he might've just snagged hold of Ryn and dragged him down into his lap, but right now they're both still recovering and so he's somewhat more careful in the way he extends his support.
Even so, it's still his move to tug him close, to shift his legs in such a way that there's a place for Ryn to rest and stay off his feet. And really, he just — wants to. Wants to hold him, wants to be kissed like this, senses flooding with the taste of dark chocolate and cookie sugar while a breathless whimper rattles in the back of his throat.]
I'd meant to point out that you've yet to teach me "yes" and "no" but — I think, ah, that. I took your meaning anyway.
[Look at him, he's momentarily kiss-stupid.]
Forget the onsen. Teach me more of your tongue, instead.
[...Even kiss-stupid, he's still pretty good at double entendre.]
Oh, I've already taught you plenty of my tongue, but there are always new things to try.
[rynlan stoppp.
he rests on thancred easily, though, comfortable. warm, and not only physically-- fond, moreso than he ever really expected to be, but thancred has really been proving himself lately.]
...I'll teach you more. Give me a night or two and I'll write up some vocabulary.
[Is he maybe a little bit attached to having his hair petted, after all the time he'd spent sleeping and basking in it across the past few days? Can't blame him for fond associations. Or being a little touch-starved.]
Oh, 'twas my favorite part of all those days of incapacitation. Rare pleasant sensations become all the more pronounced in the face of the overwhelming other sort.
[He pulls Ryn a little closer, just kind of adjusting him on his lap, making it easier to hold him and more comfortable to relax against him.]
Believe it or not, I'm usually the somber raincloud among my comrades. Jaded and brittle as old boot leather, I am.
I'm sure they've called me worse behind closed doors.
[He's kidding, largely, but then after a moment he turns sort of thoughtful, still gently nudging into the fingers carding through his hair.]
...For the longest time, here, it didn't feel...right, to not have people to care about and protect. It made the distance between myself and my comrades extra painful, I think.
[He hums softly.]
What I mean is, I'm glad to have this. You. The lot of you, to be mine in some fashion. To be the anchor that tethers me and reminds me...who I am, I suppose.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[he mumbles at that first bit, rubbing at his face. UGH. HE HATES MEN.]
So ul-m is your... something, in that case. If the imperative's separate, then treating it as a separate, verb-first phrase...
[his ears flick as he takes another bite, then points the spoon at him.]
If r is 'your', that makes ra something different. The imperative's treated as the verb and krak would be 'finish' rather than it being akt.
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[This is so cute, and it shows as he just watches Ryn think through his considerations. His ears twitch when he's thinking, it's powerfully endearing.]
I called you my isne ul. You're lucky there are no pixies about to overhear that, or you'd be the subject of quite some attention for it.
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[a pause, before he offers in exchange:]
One more word for you.
Dalah also means 'my'.
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[He tries to hide his smile for all of about two seconds before it pulls at his lips, making his whole expression brighten like the sun he'd been compared to.]
Pixies conceptualize light and the sun in the same way, with the same word. The same for darkness and the moon — the same word can be used for either. Sigun is sun or light. Ul is moon or darkness.
Belore'dalah in pixie is sigun-m. The reason why I'm more the charmer is I mentioned you were beautiful while I was at it.
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For yours, then- it would be asta aran'dalah. My fair moon. San is a separate word for darkness.
...but if you truly think you've done better, then allow me to even the score, belore suran'dalah.
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[But now this is a challenge, and he sits back a little in his chair, pleased for the puzzle to chew over and eager to try his newfound knowledge on it.]
You named your cat Suran'dor. And I've seen how you treat your cat, so I'm more than convinced it's a favorable comparison. So if the suffix is the possessive, then "suran" is...
[...]
A noun I don't recall. Life? Did you call me the sun of your life?
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[it was a small test, but not one he's judging thancred on-- it isn't as though he ever calls suran'dor anything but her name, or 'lovely', or 'precious', or 'baby'.]
It's 'restoring heart', roughly.
[and he's fairly sure he can pick up that 'dor' is the verb.]
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[After everything else, such a relatively minor clarification shouldn't get to him like this. But Rynlan has always been veritably dragonish in the way he guards his affections, doling them out sparingly and sparsely and sometimes never at all. Small wonder he'd appreciate the significance of clarifying a word like that so freely, and in a context that would allow him to immediately put two and two together.
He sits there a minute, just sort of taking that in, before offering, as painstaking as it is tentative: ]
O'anaridu'a suran...?
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rynlan finishes off the last bite of his ice cream in silence. sets the spoon down, carefully wipes his mouth with a napkin just to be sure.
then he stands up and walks to the other side of the table, leaning on it as he braces himself with one hand for support.
and leans down to just kiss the absolute hell out of thancred, leaning on him and trusting that thancred will support him reflexively.]
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His own injuries or not, it's just the most natural thing in the world to move to accommodate Rynlan, exactly as the other man expects him to. If he were at his best and most playful, he might've just snagged hold of Ryn and dragged him down into his lap, but right now they're both still recovering and so he's somewhat more careful in the way he extends his support.
Even so, it's still his move to tug him close, to shift his legs in such a way that there's a place for Ryn to rest and stay off his feet. And really, he just — wants to. Wants to hold him, wants to be kissed like this, senses flooding with the taste of dark chocolate and cookie sugar while a breathless whimper rattles in the back of his throat.]
I'd meant to point out that you've yet to teach me "yes" and "no" but — I think, ah, that. I took your meaning anyway.
[Look at him, he's momentarily kiss-stupid.]
Forget the onsen. Teach me more of your tongue, instead.
[...Even kiss-stupid, he's still pretty good at double entendre.]
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[rynlan stoppp.
he rests on thancred easily, though, comfortable. warm, and not only physically-- fond, moreso than he ever really expected to be, but thancred has really been proving himself lately.]
...I'll teach you more. Give me a night or two and I'll write up some vocabulary.
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[Frankly it's dangerous enough as it is, teaching him as much as he already knows. Although that last one is a little...suspect...]
Mm. Now that's as pleasing to say as it is on the ear. I could get to like this.
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[he's flushed purple, still, but pleasantly so, an arm draped around thancred's shoulders.]
In-eo?
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[hmmm. contemplating...
he runs his fingers through his hair.]
In-belore suran'dalah.
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[Is he maybe a little bit attached to having his hair petted, after all the time he'd spent sleeping and basking in it across the past few days? Can't blame him for fond associations. Or being a little touch-starved.]
Your heart's sunshine, is it?
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[obviously.
it's a little easier to be this free with it, now.]
But yes, it's something like that. Think you've proven you're good at providing it even in a place like this.
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[He pulls Ryn a little closer, just kind of adjusting him on his lap, making it easier to hold him and more comfortable to relax against him.]
Believe it or not, I'm usually the somber raincloud among my comrades. Jaded and brittle as old boot leather, I am.
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[tweaks his ear. you little shit.]
...but you haven't been any kind of raincloud, here. Not to us.
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[Careful with the merchandise, pal, you're going to pierce that later.]
Speaking for more than yourself, isne ul?
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[he doubts that's what thancred is to anyone that he speaks with, here.]
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[He's kidding, largely, but then after a moment he turns sort of thoughtful, still gently nudging into the fingers carding through his hair.]
...For the longest time, here, it didn't feel...right, to not have people to care about and protect. It made the distance between myself and my comrades extra painful, I think.
[He hums softly.]
What I mean is, I'm glad to have this. You. The lot of you, to be mine in some fashion. To be the anchor that tethers me and reminds me...who I am, I suppose.