Season of the Splicer
Despite being surrounded by the walls of their new home, Sylaks still felt a bit anxious around their former enemies. A mere engineer he, like most of his kin, heard stories from dregs and captains alike. Stories about those who walked in the Light and how they decimated everything in their path. The most famous of which was of course the dreaded Saint. Yet at the same time he was fascinated by such tales. He was born long after the Whirlwind so all the information about the Traveler's gifts was mostly verbal and was somehow lucky enough to avoid those who would smite him with such paracausal power.
What fascinated him even more were those who wielded such power. Like them, the Traveler had allied itself with a vastly intelligent race, one whose civilization spanned the entire system in the past, similar to their own. He couldn't help but wonder what other similarities they shared. Meesraks-Kell would often tell of his interactions with the guardians and with each story he found that both eliksni and humans (and humanoids) had more in common than he thought. But he wanted specifics. Things like entertainment, cuisine, and language.
Speaking of which, humans had such an odd language. Sure, he could speak English well enough, it seemed straight forward just like the Eliksni language. But in their natural setting, humans often injected strange words and expressions into their conversations. He wanted to understand what they were meaning to avoid a lethal miscommunication should he find himself interacting with their neighbors more often.
Then one day (if you could call it that given the endless night) a group of guardians entered their quarter. Guardians had been stopping by more often outside of supply drops and surveillance rotation and they lightened the mood with every interaction. Yet he felt that his questions would go unnoticed. So, imagine his surprise when a single guardian broke away from the group and walked up to him. Its robes flowing behind as it sat across from him on his makeshift table. One of the machine guardians judging by its face.
"Uh...velask." It said in slightly butchered Eliksni. It was a male from the sound of its metallic voice.
"Greeting's guardian. I can speak English well enough."
The guardian sighed in relief. "That's good, it's tiring to have my ghost out constantly for translation."
Weird. What did a spirit of the dead have to do with anything? Mentally shrugging, he continued. "My name is Sylaks," he said smiling behind his ether mask.
"Tonitrus-9, nice to meet you." He said, extending his hand.
Sylaks stared at the hand in question. "...what are you doing?"
Tonitrus's hand retracted slightly, "Wha…? Oh! This is a form of physical greeting when meeting someone new, it's called a handshake. Watch."
He reached over and gently grasped one of Sylaks' upper hands and shook it up and down once before letting go all the while the Eliksni looked on, perplexed.
"A rather...interesting interaction." He said after an awkward silence. "Though I shouldn't be surprised, Eliksni also have similar physical greetings."
That seemed to peak the guardians' interest as it leaned forward on its hands. "Really? I'd like to know more."
The conversation that followed was surprisingly a relaxing one. Sylaks and Tonitrus exchanged the various social intricacies between their two races. Both of them growing in excitement unbeknownst to the other. They had vast differences yet numerous similarities. Perhaps peace between them can be achieved after all. The conversation went from social interaction to culture to language and it was here that Sylaks would ask the question that was bothering him for some time.
"Humanity has a rather odd language."
Tonitrus gave him an odd look. "Why do you say that " he asked.
Sylaks adjusted his position. "Some of your captain class guardians were here last week. The terminology they used was rather...confusing."
Tonitrus stared at him. "Such as…" he trailed off.
"What does ye-et mean?"
The absurdity of the question caught Tonitrus off guard; he blinked, trying to process what he just heard. Once it did, he burst out laughing.
Sylaks visibly tensed in embarrassment, wondering if he broke some sort of cultural rule.
Tonitrus seemed to catch on and tried to control himself. "Don't worry...you didn't do anything wrong." He said between breaths. "It's just weird hearing Eliksni use human slang."
Sylaks relaxed as the guardian regained control of himself, "So to give you the textbook definition, to yeet means to discard an item at a high velocity in a specific direction." He explained.
He tilted his head in confusion. "But doesn't that mean to throw something?"
He shook his head. "Not necessarily. There is a difference between throwing something and yeeting something, given the context." The look the Eliksni was giving him still screamed confusion, so he racked his mind for examples.
"Let's say...oh! Take those titans you said were here the other day. I'm willing to bet they were strikers…er, those who wield Arc light. Among the guardian populace they've been given the nickname 'Yeet Titans' because of their...unique combat practices." He explained.
That only seemed to further Sylaks' confusion. "But what does that have to do with anything? Do you mean to say they are so reckless with their lives that their primary form of combat is to run right towards enemies disregarding any potential dangers?"
"Well, you're not wrong, not how they'd word it though. Simply put, they prefer the up-front approach, usually preferring their fists over their guns."
"I... see…"
"However," Tonitrus continued. "The nickname primarily comes from a very special technique used only by strikers. They infuse Arc light into their own bodies to propel themselves forward at a target at incredible speeds, turning themselves into a projectile. Upon impact, the Arc light is discharged, creating an explosion."
Sylaks' face adopted a look of what Tonitrus assumed to be understanding and... amusement?
"Ah! I see the correlation now." He chuckled lightly. "You guardians have an interesting way of addressing your comrades."
Silence fell between the two as they both observed the goings-on of the Eliksni Quarter, watching the interactions between said inhabitants and Last City folks who were willing to give their new neighbors a chance, most of them being guardians and Tower staff.
"I have another question regarding your terminology, " Sylaks said after a few minutes.
"Oh? Ask away."
"What is smallen?"