It gives more weight to the classic axiom of "show, don't tell".

I CAN'T tell you anything because if I do, you won't understand it. When you read this novel you'd be forced to rely on character reactions and body language (I'm making use of an idea by WVO Quine called Radical Translation, but that's for later)

I am physically incapable of writing a neurotypical character, I fear.

Carcosans:

A great, leathered hand grips your shoulder, and you suppress the instinct to strike the stranger’s throat. You are not being captured, Rhædra; this is a customary greeting. Resting one’s hand upon another’s shoulder is a greeting in the region of…Kelth-Dinna? Serevn’s Hospice? One of the western regions, at the very least. “Furínde,” a baritone voice rumbles behind you, “Iruspeth Morr?” You glance at the Itán-Irh, watching his eyes sparkle at the name. “Noi,” he answers, shaking his head. “Kaisen-Aïres.” At this, the stranger’s hand pulls back. “Seyenro.” the baritone voice mutters in common Carcosan. No, that’s not correct. A common Carcosan apology is less formal, less antiquated. Seyenro is… You smile at the thought of this large man hunched over Carcosan starchcloth, teaching himself the common tongue. It’s almost adorable. You forgive him, forgoing the common response and instead opting for the more traditional format. —Au’thrastes— you answer. Your debts have been repaid.

I love this little snippet so much, partly because I based it off my own fumbles with Spanish, partly because I'm a fucking gremlin for worldbuilding.

Carcosans: @burned-ambitions @lost-and-found-kid @thatqueerweirdo

I was tagged by @keeping-writing-frosty to share seven lines from my WIPs, so I'll split it down the middle (as middle as possible, I guess?) and share three lines from Cold Circuit and four lines from my untitled Carcosan story:

Untitled Carcosan Story:

You turn your attention to the Kaza once more, watching as she angles her ancient bow in a northern direction, and her fingers tremble, her gaze focused on an obscured target beyond your line of sight. You see her lips move, once, twice, thrice. The Kaza shifts her stance, pointing the Cazador’s arrowhead a few feet to her right. Her shoulders remain tense, her jaw set and her brows furrowed, she mutters to herself a few more times, her grip wavers, and the Kaza begins to hum. Canta tel Iruí, the Song of the Wrathful.

(Okay, sure, a bit more than four lines, but I adore this little snippet too much)

Cold Circuit:

Kaspar chuckles and rises to his feet. “You have three days to make your decision, Sibyl. If you accept, meet me back here in three days with Celephaïs, and, if you like, you may bring a third.” Kaspar, despite his victory, places a final stone on the Go board. “Choose wisely, Sibyl. A game like this has no winners.”

(I can't count, it seems, but this chapter is one of my personal favorites in the second draft, so I'm keeping it here)

Svendris:

to carve a path, to pave the way, (metaphorically) to lead. "Svendré scirrui al Liora'an" "I carved a hidden path to Liora'an" or "Svendrí'la al nas dihes" "Lead her to the gods" (A final rite of passage before an unjust execution or mercy killing, asking the Carcosan god of crossroads to watch over them)

Svendyr:

leader, ruler, consultant, has different connotations from reío, as svendyr implies collaboration with others, not dominion. Also the name of the Kazen-Irh’s council, roughly translated to the Senate. "Vehen vrastollen asca Svendyr! Cvan a faizankh esc'i?" "You've killed our leader! What do we do now?" or "Na Svendyr talvés idaío" "The Senate is Stupid/are idiots/is unwise" (depending on which syllable of "Idaío is stressed)

Carcosans:

@lost-and-found-kid @burned-ambitions @thatqueerweirdo