Though Nounsica can be spoken and used in all forms of communication, it is not a language but a wizard wonderment crafted from the tongues of dead gods. Yikes? I’m not sure, maybe the gods deserved it, but it does sound a little gruesome. 

Learning it is as simple as talking with Nounsica speakers. The language will eventually absorb languages near it, so before long, we’ll all be speaking fluent Nounsica, albeit with heavy Earth accents and a buttload of new loanwords. No consent required! 

However, wizards are busy and some of us want to be ahead of the curve so we can get employed and start a life. So, I’ve researched and compiled here some methods to speed that learning. First, make a list of words you know in both languages. Repeat them in your head until the new word feels more natural than the old one. Then converse with a Nounsica speaker using that word, and ba-dam! Your brain will automagically learn most of the other context-relevant words! It’s stupidly effortless, but it works.

–posted on HBW English speaking forum by LinguisticallyHippo

Only five days later, Maroque returned. Raz and her new sibs were sitting at their favorite spot near the big barrier windows, making a list of Nounsica words they knew. With the move to Oor just around the corner, they had to try to learn it fast or be stiff-lipped dorks for however long it took to learn.

Raz did not need to listen to the announcement to see it was Maroque.

The ambient chatter around them died down.

Nearby crowds drifted towards the windows.

Outside, a warped chunk the size of a small building broke free of the sticky clutches of the Un. Soggy pipes and weird webby vines hung off of a sharp cliff on the left, as if it had broken off of some bigger isola. Gold and red curtains ten times its size carried it along their soft waves. And on top of the tall warped building stood three people.

One was a wizard in tattered black with three glowing green dots behind a blindfold. She held a heavily warped man in her arms. The third was Maroque.

His magic started to dissipate. The chunk slowed, crashing it gently into a pier jutting out from one of the sideways towers of the unstation. Piermen rushed out to secure it. 

Some wizards climbed aboard. Two of them helped Swifta and the man down. One hovered around Maroque for a bit, then climbed back inside the station.

Chatter resumed and people left the windows. 

Raz, Allie, and Faham remained glued to it.

Other wizards emerged onto the broken pier. Raz recognized one as a law mage, because of the lawman-blue outfit and sword. The other was strangely beautiful, dressed in layers of see-through white, a white brimmed hat with a veil. They hung out with Maroque for some time before leaving him alone. 

He had not so much as blinked.

Nor did he, when the piermen dragged the isola he was stuck on out of sight.