Your wish has been granted. How about jobs? What would their words be for things like artists, engineers, mechanics, business owners, scientists, etc?
oh boy this sounds complicated, yay!! I'm gonna make this post a little longer and show more of my thought process bc I have nothing to do. Plus it might be nice for you all to see how I break things down. New words will all be at the end for convenience!
My first instinct is to make a general word that means smth like "worker" or "maker" and then make compound words for some jobs. Simple enough: the verb "to make/do" is paviis, combine that with the -ov suffix that makes agent nouns to make paviisov. Now, that's a tad long for something we're going to be compounding w other words, and if this word gets used enough it would probably shorten over time, so let's say it becomes pavov. You can use this word to create job titles for people who make things, like art, music, food, etc.
Other jobs that don't center around making things will need wholly new words. Here's some of my ideas for those words:
mechanic = machine-healer, bc of how the Eliksni view machines as living beings
engineer = ship-healer, bc of the prevalence of ships in their lives since the Whirlwind
business owner/merchant = market-person
i'm putting scientist in the "problem for future indee" bin
✨New Words✨
Artist = raldapavov
Musician = duvsapavov
Mechanic = isrohkamarsov
Engineer = skifmarsov*
Businessperson/Merchant = asriilelik
*I know skiff is a real word for a ship and that's probably the origin of its use in game, but I also choose not to give myself more work sometimes, so the Eliksni word for a generic spaceship is "skif" thank you for coming to my ted talk
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Case #0130403
Statement of Jason Gale, regarding the strange occurrences surrounding Daniel Fenton. Original statement given 3rd April, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.
--
I wanna start this by saying that I barely knew Danny. I don’t know how he became what he is, but what I did see, well...I still have nightmares. I guess I should start at the beginning, though I’m not really sure how much of a beginning there is.
I never had the greatest home life. Pretty textbook, really. Shitty dad, dead mom, bad friends, the works. I ran away when I was fourteen, fell in with a real bad crowd. I’d been in and out of juvie every few months, but I didn’t meet Danny until I was sixteen. I’d been picked up at the scene of a robbery, don’t even remember where, and sent off to Amity Youth Detention Center. I’d been there for about three months when my old cellmate got released, so I was on my own for a bit. I didn’t mind, D Block wasn’t exactly the worst it could get.
Danny transferred in a few weeks later. At first, I didn’t think much of him. He was tiny, barely 5’4 I think, and he looked like a twig. His eyes, though.....his eyes were what scared me the most. They looked dead, like someone sucked all the life outta him, just leaving his corpse walkin’ around like some kinda zombie. They sent him in and he just.....stared, watching Officer McCarthy leave like he was already planning the poor bastard’s funeral. I freaked out a little. I’m not ashamed, kid was fuckin’ scary.
That’s when it happened. It’s like something snapped in him. The room got all cold, and the lights started flickering. He shoved me up against the wall and I dunno how but it felt like this.....predator staring at me. I don’t even remember what he said, but I just agreed to whatever it was so he’d stop staring at me. I swear his eyes were green, but it had to just be a trick of the light. It had to be, because I remember they were blue. I remember, because I remember thinking how weird it was for an Asian kid to have blue eyes.
Still, when he got mad......I swear to you, they were green.
Sorry, I got a little.....off track there. There were a few more weird things about him, but just little things. He never ate, and I know it wasn’t that he was eating when I couldn’t see him. AYDC has scheduled meal times for every block, and every single time it was D’s turn he just....stayed in bed. There’s no getting in or out once the door’s locked, so he wasn’t sneaking around. And yet, even after about a week and a half of this, he was fine. No complaining, no hunger pains, not even a little bit of nausea. Like.....like he didn’t need food. I asked him about it, but the answer, well.....I think he was a bit nutty. Everyone was in there.
I managed to get him into the cafeteria one time, though not for very long. I think Emily, that is, Emily Grey, scared him off, but I can���t be sure. I do remember though, that the others felt it too. Danny was.....he had this like, aura of despair. Like you get near him, and nothing you do will make you feel again. Owen Coulter said he “felt like depression, if depression was a person”. I only remember that because it was so strange to hear a twelve year old say that with the knowledge that only an old man has, but there it was anyway.
He got transferred a few days later, or....I assume he was transferred, anyway. I heard he’d finally gotten his trial, but he didn’t come back after. I can only assume they sent him to F, because I didn’t see him for several months after that. I’d honestly just been starting to feel okay again when he came back to D. I only really noticed him because we were in the yard at the same time, and something in me wanted to turn around and bolt the second I spotted him. Still, he seemed.....different. Less angry, less......snappish. I noticed a few new scars on him too, which was strange just because the inmates at AYDC aren’t allowed any electronics, so how the hell did he get electrocution scars?
The next big one happened after he was released. He’d been out for about a week when I got a visitor. This was news to me, since my old man doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me and my friends wouldn’t be caught dead in a juvie visitation room. Only visitors I really got were my lawyer and sometimes my stepmom, but she didn’t come often. She doesn’t like me much, but that’s beside the point. When I saw Danny on the other side of that glass window, I about turned around right there. Unfortunately for me, the door was already shut and I couldn’t get anyone to open it, not from my side. Fuckin’ bastards probably stepped out for a donut break, who knows. The point is, Danny was....different.
His scars curled up both of his cheeks now, pale and prominent against his sickly brown skin. His eyes seemed a little sharper now, a little more aware. I wasn’t entirely sure this was a good thing. We argued a bit, but....I think he was genuinely trying to help. I didn’t trust him a damn bit, but at least he was trying.
I’ve been dancing around the point long enough, I think. Sure, the kid’s weird, you’re thinking. He’s got scars, so what? He makes you miserable just being around him? Probably some emo bastard. The whole predator gaze? Well, he was in for assault. No, the thing I’ve been avoiding, the thing that I’ll never forget....it was his ghost.
Way back when we were still bunkmates, he’d told me about how he died. How his parents were some kind of Ghostbuster freaks, and they built a portal to Hell in his basement. Okay, well, he called it the “Ghost Zone”, but who gives a fuck, honestly. Then he told me he was stupid enough to go in the damn thing, and got zapped six ways to Sunday. He said he’d died in that portal, and I didn’t want to believe him. I couldn’t. When you die, you die. That’s it. Game over. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. The idea that he could be some sort of.....half-alive, half-dead.....thing, well....I didn’t want to think about it. I’d already come to terms with my own mortality, and I did not need it shoved back in my face by some freaky-ass kid.
But then he showed me. God, it was horrible. I was expecting him to fail, just the delusions of his poor fucked up scrambled brains, some side effect of getting zapped to hell and back. Maybe, if it were true, to just go a bit translucent. I didn’t expect the monster.
It came in a flash of light. Two sparking rings of bright white electricity, so bright they burned to look at. When I managed to blink the spots outta my eyes, I almost thought I’d hit my head. Where Danny had been standing, a floating, glowing thing stood in his place. It was pale, washed out, with only its acid green eyes and tongue giving it any color at all. It wore a jumpsuit of some sort, with thick gloves and attached boots, like the biohazard guys on TV. It still had the scars though, even if they were glowing an ominous neon green. It hissed at me, like it was trying to speak, but I didn’t understand a word it said. When it turned that empty, hungry gaze on me, I panicked. I shoved it back against the wall, where it connected with a sickening splat. Blood oozed on the concrete, or at least, I assume it was blood. It was red and green and sizzled, like it was eating away at the stone. I think there’s still marks there, where the acid ate away at the concrete.
The thing wanted to eat me, I’m sure of it, but it seemed too dizzy. I think shoving it only made it more angry, but at that point the light came back. I looked away just in time, and when the light died down Danny was back. Still scrawny, still fleshy, still alive. Only now, I wasn’t so sure.
I haven’t seen another ghost since, and I think it’s for the best. I’ve done my research, I’ve heard about these....mediums. I know I can’t see them, not on this plane. Honestly, I’m better off for it I think. I don’t want to see them, or hear them, or even think about them again.
I didn’t give you this statement to have you do something about it. I don’t even know if you have the ability to do anything, since all this happened in Illinois. I didn’t come all the way to some dingy spooky library in fucking London for a solution. I’ve made my peace. I just.....I needed to tell somebody. Not the cops, I don’t trust them as far as I could throw them. And not anyone else either, they’d think I’m a schizo freak, like that Weston kid. No, I’m perfectly happy laying low, and never thinking about Daniel Fenton again. And now that I have this off my chest and stored away in your freaky little library, I finally can.
--
Statement ends. Although he said he didn’t want us to do anything about his experience, we did reach out to Mr. Gale. He replied in no uncertain terms for us to leave him alone, and that he absolutely would not be giving a follow-up statement. I....can’t say I blame him, but really, half-dead? A teenager that could turn into some paranormal entity? It all seems rather....far fetched.
Still, we did do some basic follow-up research on what we could. The Fentons do exist, as well as the town of Amity Park. I’d like to take everything about said town with a hefty dose of salt however, as it claims to be “The Most Haunted Place in America”. Tourist trap nonsense, if you ask me. Daniel Fenton was arrested in late summer of 2010, though those records are obviously sealed. Emily Grey declined to give a follow-up statement as well, and Owen Coulter seems to have unfortunately passed away in the intervening years.
Still, I can’t help but think that Mr. Gale’s statement is....unusually detailed, especially as it concerns a boy he himself claims to have no close connection to.
End recording.
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