And now for the au no one freaking asked for but we all desperately need. I wanted to try a mix of my version of Ice Finn and the canon way so he turned out like that. Plus Demon!Marco and Babel are just needed in my life.
1. The tower has a stump that whistles sometimes in the wind. There are people living up there. Yes, even there, in those rooms without roofs or walls! They have made for themselves a tapping, clicking language that can be heard through the storm. On quiet days you can hear their stories echoing down the broken spine of arches that leads to what was once the central square.
2. There is a room made up of blocks that before they made the tower made the town, that before they made the town made a temple that was lost beneath them both. The people who dragged the blocks out from the rubble have not yet built a language, but they are borrowing the words of one from their neighbours on all sides. It will be a beautiful patchwork when it comes.
3. There is a room under a staircase that is filled with old velvets. The staircase goes nowhere now. The velvets are wrapped around sleeping children and there are apple trees pushing through the atrium outside. Their language is a language of touch and has not yet concerned itself with colour; it may be that many of them were blinded in the wrack.
4. Down beneath the old city there was always an undercity. That is open to the sunlight, these days, but one can climb down there to the underside of the undercity, where pipes stretch off into the darkness and old wines drip from cracked-open cellars. The people who live in the pipes are emptying the city’s old storerooms, bit by bit, and their language is slow and low and echo-proof.
5. There is a room constructed from piled slabs of gold, like the hollowed-out heart of a dragon hoard. The slabs must have fallen some distance. They are embossed with stories that no-one will ever read again, and they say their old artist lives in that room and weeps at their ruin, and at the ruin of her memory. Her language is savage and sibilant and she is perhaps the only speaker; nobody else being willing to go into that dimly glittering tunnel.
6. Lift this stone and there is a perfect cube out of the rock beneath. Who knows what it was in the city? If anything was buried there it is long lost. There is a language brewing here but nobody to speak it. Perhaps it will become the language of ghosts.
7. But we do know that they buried the dead on the Southern slopes. There are long ranks of marker stones there, and at night the slopes are empty and the dust blows over them. But there are tents down there too and people living who tend the graves from time to time. The language growing here has something of a song about it.
8. There is a great avalanche-spread of bricks leading down to the river, and people come there to dig for the things that they and others have lost. There is a shack beside it. By night it lights up purple with demon-fire lamps quarried from the ruins, and the people there speak the old language, but in a whisper.
9. There is an old well from which one can see the stars. Stay here for the night, and you will find yourself infected with its language too. Your only hope is to head to the mountains, which is where those who speak the star-language all go eventually.
10. And then there is the ruined spire. You must never sleep there, unless you are sick of language and long to lose it entirely.