Septemus 44

7ibling7 of 7eptemu7 7even7

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After getting the Geoffrey Letter, I’ve been thinking about my responsibilities to the pagotogo.

Gotogo inna-inna E. We belong to each other.

I feel responsible for all little kids, actually, even those I meet in the park. We’re all goto.

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But the feeling’s more acute with the pagotogo that crashed here with me. We’re inna-inna. This language doesn’t have an equivalent–except maybe “kin.” That’s a good word.

I would do anything for the gotogo. We form a web through our songs and this, right now, is all we need to keep us strong. But if any of them needed something, I would do what they asked.

Panda has asked me to come see her:

“Bagoto-inna, inna-e-goto.
Please come to see me.”

I’ve already checked with Pops. He says I can go. We studied the light rail routes. It’s easy to get there: transfer at San Myshuno, then take the express direct to Forgotten Hollow. Pops said he’d come, if I wanted, but I want to go alone. Something like this, it’s monumental.

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I’m glad I told Pops about the trip. I like it better when I can tell him things. I know I can have secrets from him, when it’s needed, but it feels better when I can be transparent.

I have to keep secrets from him regarding Fi. If he knew there was danger around her, he’d feel the responsible thing to do would be to tell Geoffrey, even if that meant that she’d be removed. He puts her physical safety first. But she’s a bizoo, like me. Her soul’s safety is more important. Right now, her soul needs to be with her two. And their souls need her.

“Hiforus.” That’s her latest song.

Here’s what I sing back:

Tii payali-shishili Fi
I sing-listen you.
Fi payali-shishili Ti
You sing-listen me.

Bighouselittlehouse
Twocareandonecare
And I care for you, too.

One of my pagotogo has asked us to sing in words he can understand:

“Use words like these and I sing along. 
Sing to me in words like these, please and thank you.”

I will. But I think, maybe, he would like to also understand Vingihoplo, and, since I’m the bagoto, it’s my responsibility to teach!

Here’s the song I’m singing to him:

Hey, little brother, brother
It’s your big brother
Your black eyes like mine
See black eyes like mine.

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Sing your song,
I sing along.
Do you hear me sing
When chimes ring?

You are my brother,
Goto means brother.
I’m your big brother
Ba is the other.

Bagoto, big brother
Pagoto, li’l brother.

E inna-inna O means
I belong to you.

O inna-ina E means
you belong to me.

We belong to each other,
EO i’ni EO,
It’s true quite simply for
You are my brother.

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Pops asked me once if I wanted to bring friends home after school. I guess I could! I never really thought about it. The thing is, at school, my siblings’ songs sort of recede because there’s so much conversation around me. At home, where it’s quiet, it’s a lot easier to listen. Home-time is family-time.

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Author’s note: This chapter features songs from Thymeless’s Pandora, @For_Eorzea/ Summonerd’s Fi, and Allysimbuilds’ Manny.

Septemus 34

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Dear Sept,

We’ve become good friends with our mail carrier. You call her our connector-person.

I suppose she is. Through her, I send my books off to the publisher and receive royalty checks.

We could write to anyone, drop the letter in the mailbox, and she’d help it to reach its destination.

“Have you ever thought how valuable your work is?” I asked her when she stopped by at the end of her shift.

“For real, right?” said Gunther. “You’re like a modern day hero. Better than a cop!”

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You were listening from the kitchen.

“How many people do you know?” you asked her.

She thought a moment.

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“At least two-hundred and twelve,” she replied.

“That’s a lot of people!” you said. “Pops, how many do we know?”

“Not nearly that many,” I replied, though, in actuality, when I think of all the kids I went to school with, all my classmates at college, all of Nonny and Poppy’s friends, the folks I’ve met at the forums, it might be close to that many. Maybe more.

“Think we could invite them all over?” you asked.

“Everyone we know?”

“Sure! Why not?”

“You mean like a party?”

“Exactly!” you said.

I have never been a party person. But we threw our first party. I cast the net wide and invited them all. And most of them came.

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Even our mail carrier came, dressed in a striped shirt and wide-brimmed hat.

I was not happy. Too many people in too small a space.

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But you were delighted.

“Lucas!” you yelled. “Hi, Lucas! You came! Hi!”

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Salim was angry. Some kind of romantic complication, I gathered. I was hoping the couples and triangles would save their expressions of affection for later, rather than stirring up so many feelings in such a small space.

But you seemed delighted by the emotional soup.

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You and Lucas disappeared into the bedroom for a while. When you came out, it looked like you’d planned something. He was watching you, and you were watching the crowd behind the door.

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Then you both began walking through the crowded room with your eyes closed. Was it a game you were playing? Are you teaching him talk-inside?

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I wonder if anyone else there could hear you broadcast your thoughts to them. You seem to have channels that you use. I can only pick you up when you send your words on my frequency.

We got through the party. I was so glad when everyone left. It felt better to have our house to the two of us.

While I picked up the dishes, I heard you singing.

Sometimes, I don’t know how you do it, you manage to sing in two parts. This was one of those times.

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In a room with lots of books
and lots of lists hung up on hooks

Star me, star you
Find me, find you

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I’m on a quest to look and see
Where are the heroes just like me?

Kedi, Kizuu, 
Have one, have two
I sing
with you
My friend, we two
Heroes.

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You have so many connections, my son, seen and unseen. For a solitary rook like me, it makes me happy to know that you are happiest when in touch with all your friends. Maybe if I were a master of talk-inside, I wouldn’t need so much space around me at all times. As it is, all I feel and hear is a distracting buzz.

Still got a lot to learn,

Your pops

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Author’s note:  Pandora’s song was written by Thymeless. You can learn more about Pandora and her mum, Harmony, by looking in Pandora’s Box. Also, why do I always fall in love with the beautiful mail carriers? This one is so gorgeous! Makes me long for the days of casting about for a legacy spouse!

Septemus 30

sept2717

Dear Sept,

I’m jotting down all your songs. I’ve got feeling you might not remember them, since you sing them different each time.

Maybe when you’re older, and you read this, you’ll enjoy knowing what you sang about when you were a boy.

I think this one might be my favorite.

Moonshine! Moonlight.
Smile shine. Smile bright.

It’s far. We’re near.
It’s dark. We’re clear.

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Eat your spaghetti! Don’t forget grilled cheese!
Happy with tofu! How about taco?
Let’s play with dolls now.
We’ll build a rocket.
Come and ride Kizuu,
We’re going so far…. to….

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Moonshine. Moonlight.
Will you come with me?

It’s far. We’re here.
Let’s go. Have no fear.

I’ll see you in my dream
You’ll see me in yours.
And when worlds turn and stars burn
We’ll find where our home is…
By the far star…

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You’re dramatic when you sing. It’s not showing off, or a Sinatra act, though it looks like one; you do them same even when you think I’m not watching you.

I hope you keep that lack of self-consciousness when you get older. You get so immersed in everything you do.

sept2820

After breakfast, I heard you sing a song that was different from the other ones you sing. Most of your songs are sort of mournful and filled with longing. They remind me of something that Kermit might sing.

This new one was downright cheerful:

What if the moon were made of cheese?

Would the man on the moon sneeze?

Cheeeeeeeeese!

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I asked you about it.

“It’s a Rocket song,” you said.

I wasn’t sure what you meant. “Is there more that I didn’t hear that is the rocket part?”

“There’s more–heydiddlestuff–it’s not about a rocket. It’s by Rocket.”

I never know what’s going on in the world of your imagination, son.

“Now I can hear him sing, too!” you said.

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Sometimes I wonder just how many imaginary friends you’ve got, singing and whispering to you. More than I can keep track of, that’s for sure!

Just keep on singing, and I’ll keep listening.

Your pops

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Author’s Note: Who else is singing? To find out, you’ll need to read Rainy Dayz’ Alien Adoption Challenge! Many thanks to Rainy for the Grilled Cheese Song! 🙂