[TEXT] we greet

[nextnightmods]

"hello" is from GRASS FIELD SPIRIT here found small rectangle you use with make words

with HELP from BOOk B∀BƎ!! translate, gRASS rye wheat no have your word But BOOk B∀BƎ help so wheat talk to YOU

FIELD SPIRIT and the FLESH HORSE and the all others have message MOoRE than HELLO is to say:


"we thank LANTERN BEACON FRIENDS for food and giFTs

we want to HELP

On other side of Large Water LAKE is one EATER of tHIS WOrld
is close is searching you have maybe some time but little
no more chance now with BIᴚD WOm∀ᴎ all gone
once we saw EATER was found by one of you with lantern long ago, cCHILD of DARK, now gone
so it know you are near and is Very HUNGRY

we watch for you, when time comes less, we tell you. many eyes watching to help. lush green vines travel far and hunters fly fast. we watch. we tell you!.

we remember light, WE HELP YOU bring back"

---

BOOk B∀BƎ sorry no bulletin please be care
many gone

Comments

[nextnightmods]

There's no response to that from the gathered spirits, which is perhaps an acknowledgment of the difficulty of what has just been suggested. Difficult bordering on impossible, maybe, for none of them can speak it and the only things that can are far too dangerous to approach.

Flesh Horse breaks the silence by reaching out and wetly patting Soldat on the shoulder with their tongue.

"No one, no way to study. Lighthouse and its command gone. Do not cross the lake to learn firsthand. Where did the song in the lighthouse come from first?" they manage to grunt around their extended tongue.

"Have heard, cannot repeat. Hurts to remember," the Librarian adds once the crunching stops. "Bird woman gone. Fire-tender bird gone. Who else heard the song?"

[worthallthis]

"Green-eyes hear it, but too dangerous. Lantern-woman. Solis. Lighthouse song came from her. But she is gone." They consider. "Burlap-head heard it."

It had sounded like a buzz in the ground, felt deep in the chest, not even properly a language. Maybe Burlap-Head would have some insight... but only hearing it briefly won't likely help a whole lot. They know the world eater language is... difficult. With many layers. Difficult to hear, let alone speak.

Soldat pats Flesh Horse's tongue gently with the metal hand. "Will talk to lantern-holder who made big-fire-destroy. For this one. Will not stop all of them, though."

[nextnightmods]

Flesh Horse nods, finding that satisfying for now.

The Librarian hums in thought, or perhaps the noise is a word Soldat doesn't quite understand yet - it almost has syllables, and eventually it transforms into phrases. "Most of us, not only Burlap. The lighthouse song is the same song."

The shroud surrounding the spirit lifts in a shrug, then drifts slowly downward again. Was that helpful? Who knows. They're intent on picking up the last pieces of popcorn now.

[worthallthis]

Soldat chews on their cheek a couple times, then gives up and pops one of their chewing pendants in their mouth instead, thinking. "Yes," they finally answer, glad that the language is more about notes and patterns than consonants, so they can sing it around their chew pendant. "But. No wish to control this time. Encourage. Help. Protect. Clear heads not commands. Need to expand knowing past only commands."

[nextnightmods]

Rye-Mother nods in understanding, while Flesh Horse's tongue and the Librarian battle it out for the remains of the food on the plate. Once there's nothing left, the Librarian slips the plate under their veils, and the sound of teeth on porcelain is, briefly, the only thing there is to hear.

"We will try to think of ways to help," Rye-Mother says, paying the Librarian no mind.

[worthallthis]

They don't pay the Librarian any mind, either. They're used to the Librarian's eating problem. (Hell, we understand her eating problem. Shut up. No, you.)

Soldat collects the popcorn bowl, at least. "Thank you. All of you. You are kind to lantern-holders. Please, stay with us? For now? I will visit often. Others, too. We can work together."

[nextnightmods]

"Will not speak for all, but many will remain near. I will come and go. Spread word farther," Flesh Horse says as their tongue curls tight under their lower jaw like a butterfly's proboscis. "Postmaster can send messages if you wish to speak and cannot find me."

"We have no home until spring," Rye-Mother hums sorrowfully. "Until the fields grow again. Winter we will travel. Keep watch for the one which eats. Till and sow and we will return," they say, while stroking the masked effigy.

[worthallthis]

Flesh Horse gets another light pat. "If we survive through winter," Soldat promises Rye-Mother, "We will till and sow your field. Where can we find it?"

[nextnightmods]

"Toward the mountains, where rain catches in the hills. There were forms near... not moving, always watching. A stock pond, not far, but the only hunters chased your people now, not ducks."

Perhaps realizing this is all very vague, Rye-Mother looks aside in thought, then shakes their head. "I cannot measure in your time or your distance. You know the unmoving faces? The pond?"

[worthallthis]

The sculpture garden is near a smallish body of water, and that's heading towards the mountains, so they nod. "Yes. I think so. I will try to look before the snow comes, so we can find it after winter. If you think the World Eater will not find us by then. My friend Raining has seeds." Misty's time spent in the greenhouse surely would have yielded things to plant, by now, and they'll make sure she knows to keep as much as possible.

If the World Eater doesn't find them by then. Soldat is not forgetting that threat.