#‘a lament for the dead’

[carefulfears]

the biggest thing about elegy is that it takes all of that unspoken isolation of this arc, and it slowly lets the audience in. the first thing that mulder says about the apparitions, is that they seem to be an "omen." an impending prophecy. and carefully, throughout the episode, both the audience and scully are waiting to see, not who the killer is, but what is being foretold. when they're going over records, and scully's nose starts bleeding, it's the one thing that they can't ignore. she wasn't even there in the previous episode. she was in the hospital. alone. they don't talk about it. she's "fine." she has "always been the strong one." just like in irresistible, years earlier, she does not want him to know how much she is struggling. but she doesn't have any control. it is dripping out of her. the sound of his voice when he says "oh, scully." and how quickly she responds "it's okay. i'm fine."

it's that kind of childlike grimace in him, the same man who flinches away from dead bodies and stares at the ground before his father. and she's so fast to try to restore order. it's okay. i'm fine. don't worry, i'll clean it up. i'll make it go away. when she disappears into the bathroom and sees an apparition there herself...i think she decides to go to the hospital because she just needs space, honestly. she's scared. he offers to drive her, to go with her, twice. asks, "you sure?" and she says, twice, "i'm fine."

elegy builds to two separate climaxes: the first, when mulder comes to scully's apartment. but before that, we see scully in karen kosseff's office, the same therapist that she had gone to in irresistible, and presumably has kept a relationship with in the years since. she tells karen that she's been diagnosed with inoperable untreatable cancer, and when karen asks, "you've kept working?" she answers, "yes. it's been important to me."

she's taken aback when karen asks why, is surprised at the question, and tells her "agent mulder has been concerned. he's been supportive, through this time."

KOSSEFF: Do you feel that you owe it to him to continue working?

SCULLY: (quickly) No. (pauses) I guess I never realized how much I rely on him before this...his passion...he's been a great source of strength that I've drawn on.

KOSSEFF: What happened last night, Dana?

SCULLY: I saw something. I, I don't know what to trust. If I saw it because of the stress, because the image had been suggested to me or if it was a suggestion of my own fears.

KOSSEFF: Your fear of failing him?

SCULLY: (exhales emotionally) Maybe.

this is such a rare admission from scully. first of all, she's being confronted. this is not normal. it is not normal to work to your death. it's like bill tells her, a couple of episodes later, "what are you doing at work, getting knocked down, beaten up? what are you trying to prove?"

(she hadn't even told bill about her cancer. she'd been sick for months. she thought she was going to die in memento mori, she knows she's going to die sooner than later. and she instructed her mom not to tell her brother. from the moment that mulder said "i refuse to believe that," it really was only going to go one way.)

she's being confronted. why are you working? (for mulder). do you feel you owe him? (no, i need him).

she's really alone. she's sick. like, she's really sick. she spent the last case in the hospital. she's having a hard time keeping up. she's thinning, and bleeding, and struggling. but there she goes, every day, at every hour. monster chasing. telling him she's fine.

(so much conflict comes from the way that mulder's ignorance perfectly enables scully's repression)

when he shows up, late, at her apartment, he comes in a mile-a-minute, about how he needs her "help" on the case, before asking her what her doctor said. (her answer, of course, being, "i'm fine.")

he tells her that everyone who has seen an apparition, was dying. every person who reported a premonition, was near death themselves.

SCULLY: Harold Spuller is dying too?

MULDER: Well, that's what I need your medical opinion on.

SCULLY: Well, what if he isn't?

MULDER: I would be very surprised. What is a death omen if not a vision of our own mortality? And who among us would most likely be able to see the dead? 

this is one of the most hauntingly isolating moments of the series...he has just told her that she is going to die. and he doesn't know, that that's what he said. she is forced to process it, completely by herself. and she doesn't believe in ghosts, or "premonitions," but she knows that he is right. (when is he not?)

("maybe harold is sicker than we thought he was.")

the second moment that this episode builds to, is the final confrontation between mulder and scully. after the murder is solved. after harold dies.

SCULLY: I saw something, Mulder.

MULDER: What?

SCULLY: The fourth victim. I saw her in the bathroom before you came to tell me.

MULDER: Why didn't you tell me?

SCULLY: Because I didn't want to believe it. Because I don't want to believe it.

MULDER: Is that why you came down here, to prove that it wasn't true?

SCULLY: No, I came down here because you asked me to.

MULDER: Why can't you be honest with me?

SCULLY: (defensively) What do you want me to say? That you're right, that, that I believe it even if I don't? I mean, is that what you want?

MULDER: Is that what you think I want to hear?

SCULLY: (softly) No.

they come really...close here? to talking about it? she almost baits him several times this season. she spends so much of this arc thinking...maybe, this will be it. maybe if she fucks off on assignment, gets a tattoo with another man, he'll say it. maybe if she calls him out for never celebrating her birthday, he'll acknowledge why this is the year he did. maybe if they spend a friday night with a bottle of wine, they'll talk. maybe if she tells him, those things you believe are death omens? i saw it. he'll know.

i can't remember which one of you said that all of their arguments are just how to love each other. she doesn't want to believe. but she's there, because he has asked her to be. even in all of their repressed denial, there is no escaping what's happening. it hangs over both of them.

i love the moments in this arc where she just snaps. in this scene when she says, what do you want from me? do you want me to just believe you? and her quiet resignation, when he makes her answer her own question. no. she knows that's not what he wants.

MULDER: (his voice softens) I know what you're afraid of. I'm afraid of the same thing.

SCULLY: The doctor said I was fine.

MULDER: I hope that's the truth.

SCULLY: (whispers) I'm going home.

"i know what you're afraid of. i'm afraid of the same thing."

except, no, he doesn't. and no, they are not.

but she knows what he's afraid of, just as her therapist had known what she's afraid of ("your fear of failing him?") and so she dodges his admittance with reassurance. she's fine.

that last scene, when she goes out and cries in her car, and she sees harold's ghost in the backseat. she is so alone. she's working on her deathbed. they don't talk about it. she's afraid, and she's not fine, and she is going to "fail" him because she cannot keep herself alive for him, and she can't avoid it. it's in the backseat. it's in the bathroom mirror. it's bleeding out of her.

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Giovanni Battista Gaulli (1639-1709) “The Pietà (Mary Lamenting the Dead Boop)” (1667)

[mirrorhouse]

CHAINSAWS IN HORROR MOVIES 🪚

Evil Dead II (1987) The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986) Motel Hell (1980) Mandy (2018) Friday the 13th Part 2 (1981) [•REC]³: Genesis (2012) Tokyo Gore Police (2008) The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) Evil Dead Rise (2023)

[lora-flora]

I am absolutely biased but I think horror comedy is a top tier genre... Lisa Frankenstein, What We Do In The Shadows, Shaun of the Dead....name someone else who does it like them 💞

[koredzas]

Master of the Fogg Pieta - The Lamentation Over the Dead Christ. 1330

[e-regcanswim]

everything about icarus is so regulus black coded it makes me wanna cry, ESPECIALLY the poems

[mysterious-secret-garden]

Herbert Draper - The Lament for Icarus.

[the-crow-binary]

You guys want to know a fun flower fact ?

Lilies represent pure love, the nobility of feelings, but also marital union. After the death of someone, they are used to represent the purification of their soul before they reach heaven.

So now that we established that... What about we take a look at two lovely pics ? <3

First is Mathias Cronqvist and the corpse of Elisabetha, covered with lilies. Second is...

Dracula from CoD.

It's interesting to see that Mathias has a few lilies of his own. If Elisabetha's probably represent all of what i mentioned above, Mathias' lilies might only represent his feelings for her, how deeply he cared, his union with her. But it's interesting to interpret them as some sort of "mockery" of the "purification of the soul before reaching heaven" part, knowing how that man ends up. <3 Dead ? Yes (kinda). Pure ? No. Heaven ? LOL. LMAO. <3 His lilies are also clean. Just normal, pure white flowers...

Now if we look at Dracula's lily, not only is there only one, but... it's bloodied. And while Mathias' lilies were "attached" to him, Dracula is actually holding his... by the tip of it's rod. As if he could let go at any moment, as if it would slip from his hand from the slightest wrong movement. It's a very delicate situation. And the representation of his current state of mine. This man is broken. He loved Lisa so deeply he regained his humanity back while with her, but everything shattered when she died. If the lily represents his love for Lisa and what was left of his humanity, things part of him is still hanging onto... you can be sure it fell off his hand the moment Trevor killed him. Grief and rage took place in his heart, turning a love that was pure into something unholy. Into an obsession, a fuel for his madness. And while he lost the flower, the blood remained. He's forever tainted, unable to escape his sadness and anger.

This is my interpretation, though I'm sure there can be more. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[candydos]

man I’ve been spoiled by amphibia becoming a big fandom

[friendsdontlieokay]

While others get into relationships, get married and even start having children, Imma be laying in my bed and keep obsessing over my favorite TV shows, Kdramas and Webtoons

[supersquiddle]

I *swear* these guys are the evil-aligned party. Shrike is played by @scruffigus. Gabriel is played by FoolishPhoenix. Marcello is played by myself.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

-Ode to Grief #3-

The concubine and the musician passed each other outside the king's bedchamber. It was past midnight. The musician was on his way in, and the concubine was on her way out. Both were carted around in a litter, although for very different reasons. 

Gao Jianli could not see her, but he knew a woman was there. He could smell her perfume and hear the creak of the sandalwood chair bouncing in time to the eunuchs’ footsteps. Her chair had only four pallbearers. Gao Jianli's had eight. That probably meant something, although he did not want to dwell on it. 

He wished desperately that he could see her face, to know what she might be thinking. How he wished to see a face. Anyone's face. 

The King of Qin amused himself liberally with the women, but they were never permitted to stay the night. He slept alone and kept a sword by his side. Gao Jianli knew this because the king had swung the sword at his face the first time he entered his bedchamber--to check that he was really blind. And he was, of course, so he hadn't flinched or even understood what was happening until a lock of his hair had fallen at his feet. 

The king had relaxed after that, and thus began their present arrangement. Gao Jianli would arrive every night, kneel at the foot of the king’s bed and play for hours and hours on end, not leaving until dawn crept in, the crickets fell silent, and the birds picked up their chorus.

It was not wholly accurate to say that the king slept with no one. He slept with Gao Jianli—and the musician suspected that he could not sleep without Gao Jianli. 

The king was drafting bills at his desk when Gao Jianli was announced and ushered inside. He could hear the rattling of the bamboo and the whisper of the brush. The faint smell of perfume still lingered in the room. 

"Ah, good evening, Court Composer! No, no, please don’t ke tou. I’ve told you, it makes me feel stupid when people do that while I’m in my underwear.” The servants led Gao Jianli to his designated mat. Another handed him the zhu--which had been locked away and inspected every night--and he clung to it like a drowning man finding flotsam. The bamboo drumstick and taunt silk strings had become the only things that felt real in this terrifying new world of shades and vertigo. He only felt whole when his instruments were safely in his hands.

“How do you like your new clothes?" said the king. 

"I’m sure they’re splendid, Your Highness, but I’m afraid their beauty is lost on me.”

The king laughed, “I mean, how do they feel? Are they comfortable? Easy to move in? I hope you don’t mind, but I had my tailor hem the coat a little higher than is proper so you wouldn’t trip over.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Your Highness,” Gao Jianli ran his hands over the zhu's wooden belly, checking it for any dents and scratches. 

“The colour is very becoming. You look like a proper Sage of Music now.” 

“His Highness does me too much honour,” No, no, no! Someone had tuned it wrong! The fourth string was painfully over-drawn, and Gao Jianli quickly eased it back, letting out a sigh of relief as the instrument was returned to its proper state. 

“I say! It’s drafty in here, isn’t it?” The king rose and bustled about the room. Moments later, something soft and heavy was draped over Gao Jianli’s shoulders—one of the duvets from the bed. The smell of perfume was stronger now. A large wooden table was dragged over to his left side, plates rattling. “Would you like a snack? Let’s see, there’s beef, lamb, swan, wild boar, abalone, shark-fin…Please stop and rest as often as you wish—good health isn’t something gold can buy, you know!” 

“I don’t want to eat.” 

“Some tea, then,” the king poured him a cup and blew on it gently, “careful, it’s still quite hot.”  

------------------------ [small pov shift! I'm going to try write this part with QSH's voice. lets see if all that roleplaying helped!] 

The king settled back down at the desk and picked up his brush, although he was far too eager to resume his work. He watched Gao Jianli tune his instrument from the corner of his eye and played a little game with himself; what would the Sage of Music entertain him with tonight? The Kingdom of Yan, for all its sickening frivolity and excess, produced extraordinary artists. The fact that he had acquired their best and brightest star was just further proof of heaven's favour. 

The musician shunned the stand, preferring to balance the zhu on his knees. One of his little idiosyncrasies. It muffled the sound somewhat, softening each note into something indescribably sweet and inviting. 

Gao Jianli bowed his head, was still for a long moment, and did something he’d never done before. He opened his mouth and began to sing. 

The king was rather taken aback. Unlike his legendary skills with the zhu, Gao Jianli’s voice was not a thing of breathless beauty or a technical marvel. It was reedy and feeble, fluttering like a moth in the vast, high-walled bedroom. He had obviously been crying—again--and his nose was stuffy. And yet, the sound was still utterly bewitching. The king sat forwards, his hands upon the desk, struggling to catch the words. 

Wait. This was his song! Gao Jianli was singing Without Clothes, the Qin battle anthem. It was a simple, stout chant signifying the people’s willingness to go to war. The king had heard it sung by soldiers, a hundred thousand voices raised as one unified roar, fit to shake the heavens. He had never heard it sung like this, had never heard anything like this. This fervent, tearful whisper. The low, agonised keening of an injured beast. Gao Jianli touched the strings as if he was afraid they might break. The zhu in his lap wailed and wailed like a lost child. He played like a man in his death throes, gutted and slowly bleeding out. 

“How can you say you have no clothes?  I’ll share my coat with you. The king calls us to arms, I’ll prepare my axe and spear to fight with you.”

How can you say you have no clothes?  I’ll share my shirt with you. The king calls us to arms, I’ll prepare my spear and halberd to stand with you.

How can you say you have no clothes?  I’ll share my skirt with you. The king calls us to arms, I’ll don my armour and weapons to march with you. 

And just like that, the song was over, and the last note petered into silence. 

King Ying Zheng sat frozen in place, trembling from head to foot, unable to understand what he was feeling. His eyes stung, his throat ached as if it had been slit open, and his chest felt vice-tight. The closest he had ever felt like this was when that dagger-wielding madman chased him around the throne room, except this was much, much worse. It felt like someone had hacked off one of his limbs. Like a raw, jagged hole had been carved into his chest, leaving him hollow and so desperately empty. 

Ying Zheng’s first instinct was to have Gao Jianli dragged out and executed. No. That wasn’t enough. He needed to cut off the hands of every musician in the country and throw their instruments onto a flaming pyre. He was a fool to think he would be safe by taking Gao Jianli’s eyes. He should have torn out his tongue and locked that wretched thing away inside a box of salt, right next to Gao Jianli’s treacherous heart. 

“Play it again,” Ying Zheng said hoarsely. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“It can’t be done.”

The king’s voice was dangerously soft, “can’t be done, or you won’t do it?” 

“Both, I suppose.” 

Ying Zheng was on his feet, scattering the bamboo books and brushes with a clatter. Hearing the commotion, the guards rushed into the room. The king held them off. 

“I have been more than lenient with you, Court Composer,” he hissed. “I have spared your life and given you the honour of serving me. I shower you with gifts and treat you with every courtesy, yet you have shown me nothing but contempt. First, you sing this seditious song and now you dare to defy me. You will play it again. Your King commands it.” 

Gao Jianli sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a shiny trail of snot on the silk Ying Zheng had personally picked out for him. He was still weeping softly.

“Command the oceans to empty,” he said, “command the sun to run backwards in the sky. Command the dead to rise from their graves and bid them to speak. Once you have done all that, I will play this song again.” 

----------------------

Notes: the emperor's shadow has reached into my brain and rearranged ALL my neurones. here is the song gao jianli is singing. As you can see, I've changed the words slightly because my focus is on flow rather than accuracy. the biggest change is "the king calls us to arms" I've done it to give the song more immediacy and also to reflect the intent of the original "the king is summoning eager warriors."

[koredzas]

Pasqualino di Niccolo - The Lamentation of Christ. 1490

[foundationsofdecay]

mutuals we are all going beachcombing in the early hours of the morning together. let's walk around the tidepools and pick up dead crabs and lobster claws and cool shells

[eirenses]

the audience and the ccs themselves got attached to those little guys. so if they die, it will be a catastrophe

but time heals wounds. days and weeks will pass.

but q!wilbur is just going on a tour tomorrow. he (canonically) doesn't know what will happen to his daughter. he has a hunch though, that something terrible is going to happen. he is scared, but hopeful.

if the eggs die, everyone on the server will grieve together, trying to lessen the pain. they will try to heal each other. they will start to move on

so when q!wilbur comes back, he will have to witness that her girl is gone, while everyone else had learned to deal with grief