Written by Megan Moncrief
Content Warnings: Brief mention of nudity
A correspondence from Master Armeria, Ordo Venefari
From “The Frosthorn Forum,” 909
My cherished Frosthornians! Greetings from sunny Kovo! I have enjoyed a whirlwind first month as the 909 Sil Uttstix Research Fellow in Extrahumanoid Linguistics at Glimmerglass Academy! I miss you all every day, but have so much to tell you I doubt it will fit into one article.
Where to start? Glorious Koyina and its environs? The scintillating theatrical productions? The sparkling seaside sculpture gardens? Sea-grape-infused cheese spreads so luscious they’ll make you cry for mercy? Alas, if only I were less of a withered old perennial and could report upon the club scene, which I’m assured is quite something to write home about! But ah! I imagine you’re all most eager to hear a bit about life at our sister academy.
Glimmerglass! Its gleaming white apses, archways, and domes, a multifaceted jewel laid into the pitch-black coast. Glinting panels of colorful glass give the academy its name: ceruleans, viridians, argents, heliotropes, saffrons, and yes, crimsons – the latter the subject of great discussion in our times as one might expect. In truth, these dazzling arrays of color are practical signage. For here on Kovo, color is language, language is light, and the work of the linguist is to understand the relationship therein (which is, of course, of great interest to Guardian scholars such as myself). Did you know one of the many translations of the word “comprehension” is a rich merlot?
But I digress! More on the unique complexity of red here in a later letter, perhaps – and back to the splendid architecture itself! The majority of the Academy’s structures are amphibiously designed in the style popular in metropolitan Koyina: dry walkways intertwined with undulating lanes of water facilitating ease of access for Koleon and non-Koleon alike (I also spotted one or two intrepid human students swimming their morning laps).
This ingenious system, along with the brilliant array of native flora powering the biospheric filtering systems, has the side effect of ensuring a constant balmy humidity. Frankly, it’s Shumi paradise – there are so few of us here on campus, but we are fortunate! My trusty sun lamp languishes in the corner of my quarters. The climate is so clement that I find I am in fullest bloom, and the robust baths certainly don’t hurt (Groundskeeper Veb take note! Our wretched standard-issue Guardian academy pull-chain showers could stand a major upgrade. A luxurious soak now and then would do wonders for morale, especially for those of us whose stalks never evolved to endure hostile climates with ease. Ahem).
The lecture halls too are semi-aquatic! Domed white ceilings are polished to a gleam over sparkling pools – not merely for aesthetics, but for the visual amplification of lectures delivered in Koleon. Said classes are translated via a very unusual neural synthesizer for those in the “dry rows,” who might otherwise simply experience the talk as a shimmering bath of chromatic light (which is certainly rather pleasurable in and of itself). And ah, the Guardians themselves are splendidly arrayed as well! Pendants, cuffs, and jeweled chains denoting order and rank are standard during hours of study and ceremony, though Koleon students and teachers do occasionally affect standard fabric Guardian raiment when arranged bipedally. The standard expectation is that non-aquatic Guardians will wear the usual garb (though I did note one bold Khi’Hinn page attempting to explore that boundary).
My own grasp of the local language proceeds apace! Of course, I will never be more than a halting “speaker” using a datapad to paint most of my half of a conversation and telepathic gestures to imply the rest – analogous, in its way, to the Koleon on dry land using a vocal synthesizer to communicate. My imprecise eye makes constant mistakes, of course. The word for “routine” is uncomfortably close to a certain shade of beige that is one of the language’s rudest insults. But my tutors are patient, and blessedly slow to take offense at my bumbling.
That’s all for now, beloveds. I must prepare for the evening’s entertainment: a dueling exhibition! What we landlocked know as Kovo-style dueling is just the tip of a spectacular iceberg – underwater, these matches become a whirlwind of movement, color, and space. I shall report back in my next letter, dear friends.
Go in the Light,
Master Armeria
A Letter to the Editor:
A little perspective on Master Armeria’s glowing description of Glimmerglass Academy in last week’s paper.
I guess I can see how an entirely sodden, humid 24/7 building is a decent place for ambulaplantae. But as a human who’s visited there myself, my most vivid memory of the place is wet socks. The “dry walkways” are a total lie. Dry, my foot. As in: my feet and the rest of me were actually miserably damp the whole time.
Sure, the amphibious lecture halls are a marvel of technology and all, but I notice Armeria didn’t mention the underwater seminar rooms. YOU try participating in a group discussion while breathing through a snorkel (ok, ok. I know your Vyxian readers are looking at me sideways right now. But still).
The art is really cool, though. That’s fair.
Page Chet Boudrel
Alumnus – Ordo Ouiori
Shikal
