#ESSE EST PERCIPI

[peeporoon]

yeah I checked in with r/latin just to make sure I translated a one word sentence correctly for a meme. My research only took me two entire hours. Latin majors when they're in an unemployment contest and their opponent is me

[chuuyas-nakahara]

walking around my apartment quoting the dr. ratio ultimate voice line to myself

[veruveritas]

esse est percipi (2024)

If to be, is to be perceived, Then how do you see me, doctor?

(print)

[stormofdefiance]

True knowledge exists in knowing you know nothing || Dr. Ratio & Socrates

Okay, I legitimately laughed out loud writing that title, but listen. LISTEN.

Ratio's inspirations derive from many sources; from referencing Archimedes's brain-blast in the tub, to being doomed to have his head bonked by Newton's apple ad infinitum in his idle animation, to his ultimate line ('esse est percipi' / 'to be is to be perceived') a direct quote from Berkeley on Idealism - it's apparent that his design nods towards scholars across time periods rather than being a direct parallel to a singular academic.

Nevertheless, just for fun, I've been rotating Ratio and ancient greek philosophers around in my head and have had a great time chewing over how parallels Socrates in particular. I am in no way saying that Hoyo even thought about Socrates while they were designing Ratio, but I thought I'd share my thoughts. I think there are some worthwhile parallels to be drawn that touch on all aspects of Ratio's own philosophy regarding ignorance, the value of knowledge, and his deep appreciation of life. So, let's get into it.

Ratio is interested in humanity and curing 'ill minds with knowledge', that 'to turn a blind eye to the folly of others is not an etiquette, but a wicked worldly practice.' Ignorance is a disease - this is a concept that can be viewed through a Socratic lens. Socrates believed that that virtue and knowledge were impossible to separate from one another, and that virtue could be developed through acquiring knowledge and insight. If knowledge is virtue, then ignorance is vice. In Socrates's mind, no one would rationally choose to do something bad. People might choose to do bad things, but this is rooted in their own perception of the world - as in, someone would only choose to do something bad (for the world, or for themselves) because they believed (erroneously) that it was the right or good thing to do. To Socrates, the cure to this was knowledge: 'There are two kinds of disease of the soul, vice and ignorance.' & 'What does most harm in the world is not sinfulness but ignorance'.

To Ratio, 'If ignorance is an ailment, it is the duty of the scholars to weed it out and heal the universe'. He views his own ignorance as 'filth' that must be cleansed through methods such as reading. He also views knowledge as a method for humans to overcome their problems - 'Another day has passed. If your problem still hasn't been solved, is it possible the problem is you?' & 'You look distressed. Is something troubling you? if so, you can figure it out for yourself.' These statements sound harsh, but they also clue us into Ratio's philosophy - that through self-examination and improvement, one can overcome one's ailments.

Socrates was also known for being a trouble-maker, he was abrupt and tactless and did not care for someone's social standing nor decorum. He was also known for using what is now called the Socratic method, asking a series of questions that ultimately seek to show contradictions in the beliefs of those who posed them, and to move systematically towards a hypothesis free from contradiction. Socrates rarely made assertions himself - after all, he had no wisdom of his own. But he could interrogate others in order to expose their own foibles, much to the embarrassment and annoyance of those around him. He was once described as a 'gnat' chewing on the 'lazy horse of Athens', causing it to wake up and spring to life due to his persistent gnawing and prodding. Ratio also employs the Socratic method - 'I'm asking questions' - and also adopts sophist tactics such as playing devil's advocate and taking opposing sides (with both himself as seen a story quest, and with others as we see with his texts urging us to take up a side so he might debate us). Through questioning and interrogation, upsetting what we consider social convention and norms, we can dispel contradictions and thereby come closer to some form of truth.

To add to this - as highlighted in the replies below - Ratio’s skill ‘intellectual midwifery’ is a reference to the Socratic method. The idea being that Socrates helped those around him give birth to the knowledge that was already within them, rather than treating his students minds as empty vessels for him to fill with his own answers. Again this is beautifully echoed in Ratio - he doesn’t want to tell you how to live your life, he wants you to work out for yourself what it is you need, thus empowering oneself through self-examination and questioning.

Socrates did not believe in writing anything down. He believed that face-to-face communication was a far more effective way of communicating knowledge - which means, unfortunately, what we know of Socrates is primarily derived from secondary sources. Much of what we know about him today comes from Plato's dialogues, and Plato was known for liberally exercising artistic license.

Although Ratio is not dead, I find it interesting that his character story is told exclusively through secondary sources. To quote - '…There are no less than eight documentaries detailing his legendary exploits, and over a dozen memoirs about him. However, despite the plethora of commentaries, none of them seems to provide a compelling perspective.' It's as though there are no surviving fragments penned by Ratio's hand and all we have to go on is through the lenses of other people. This challenges us, perhaps, to try to think about our own interpretation of Ratio since secondary sources cannot be taken as a wholly unbiased account - and once again employing the Socratic method and empowering the reader to come to their own interpretation.

While Socrates left no writing behind, he was interested in spreading knowledge. Socrates spent most of his life in Athens, a city that was, during his lifetime (~470-399 BC), a hotpot of scholars, wisemen and philosophers. Athena, the Greek god of wisdom, was named after the city - her symbol the owl that is also appropriately perched on Ratio’s shoulder. Also in Athens at this time where the sophists. The sophists were a class of intellectuals who were known to teach courses in various subjects - but often for a high fee, and generally centred around the idea that persuasion and the use of knowledge as a tool was more important than wisdom or truth itself. There's some debate about whether Socrates could be characterised as a sophist himself, but, crucially, he is characterised as refusing to take payment for his teachings. He was born a plebeian (perhaps you might describe it as a mundane background.) He was known to dress in rags and go barefoot, speaking to and (often antagonising) people from all walks of life, preferring the marketplace as a center of debate than palaces or courtrooms. I can't help but think of the sophists as similar to the genius society (or at least Ratio's depiction of them in contrast to himself), cooped up in ivory towers and gatekeeping knowledge to the most privileged. He doubts if Herta's talent is always helpful to others, he compares Screwllum to a 'monarch'. Then again, the sophists may in fact be a bit of a parallel to the Intelligentsia Guild - from Ratio, 'when someone is willing to listen to knowledge that is being disseminated and circulated, a price is created'.

Socrates (or at least the Platonic depiction of Socrates) was at one time declared the wisest man in Athens by the Oracle of Delphi. Socrates balks at this assertion - how can he possibly be the wisest man in Athens when he in fact knows nothing at all? This was not a claim made of modesty - he truly believed that he had no wisdom, that he was unsure what 'wisdom' itself even was. Ultimately, Socrates concludes that the only way that the Oracle could be correct is that by actually acknowledging that he knows nothing he paradoxically is the wisest man in Athens. All wisdom, therefore, is rooted in wondering, with wondering only possible if one is open to admitting one's own ignorance.

What I love about all of this in relation to Ratio is that Ratio styles himself as a mundanite. The Intelligensia Guild advocates that 'all knowledge must be circulated like currency' and accepts 'all beings… who seek to learn'. Ratio has no time for the satisfied self-styling of intellectualism, he himself states that 'to speak knowledge, we must first make people realise their own folly.' No one is above criticism in this regard, even himself - again, to quote 'Whenever someone agrees with me, I feel like I must be wrong.' Again, I feel as though he would resonate with Socrates here: 'Smart people learn from everything and everyone, average people from their experiences, and stupid people already have all the answers'. With Aventurine, he is quick to mock his appearance as over-the-top and vapid - once again making it clear his distate for vanity and hollow displays of showiness (albeit he may have been acting for Sunday's sake here. Also, no comment about this coming from a man who runs around in a toga, lmao) Equally, with Aventurine, it is clear that Ratio is willing to learn from him - he apologises when he offends, he abhors his methodology and yet he still relies upon it and trusts in Aventurine's plan, he is drawn to him in some ways precisely because he is so different to himself. Aventurine (at least styles himself) as impulsive to Ratio's slow and steady methodology, Aventurine whose learning has been entirely self-made vs Ratio who has spent his life in classrooms, Ratio who scoffs at Aventurine's favourite games of chance yet adds slot machines to his simulated universe. And to Socrates, the experience of aporia – in all of its discomfort and disruption – is the very catalyst of wonder, and that wonder was not just the root of wisdom but also the way to live a good and happy life. There is something beautiful in this to me, and this extends to Ratio. Ratio fundamentally cares about life. For all his brashness, his lashing out against 'idiots', his harsh demeanour - he wants people to live good lives, he wants to contribute to the good of humanity - all people, even those he is annoyed by, he cares so profoundly and absolutely about life. The entire reason why he is obsessed with wisdom and learning is not to exalt or elevate himself, not as some kind of ritualistic expression of piety towards a deity, but it is instead an expression of devotion towards life itself. Ratio has a strict work out routine not so that he can show off his body, but because living healthily is living well and working out is a component of that. Even the way he fusses and worries about Aventurine, someone he is pointedly irritated by, reveals how deeply his care runs. So so much of his character is centered on caring for life, even if it is not immediately obvious.

Finally, I'd like to highlight some ways in which Ratio is not like Socrates. First of all, Socrates was repeatedly described as 'ugly' by fellow philosophers Plato and Xenophon - this is contrast to Ratio being repeatedly described as 'handsome'. This is an interesting subversion to me (albeit likely an indulgent one) as in both cases both men attempt to distance their physical appearance from the weight of their words. Ratio wears the bust for many reasons, but way to view it is that he is attempting to stop his appearance from bearing any influence in the subject of debate.

Socrates was also said to be blessed by a divine touch, and as we know, this is something that agonises Ratio as Nous has not yet turned THEIR gaze towards him.

Lastly, Ratio has - thankfully - not yet been ordered by the state to drink hemlock for all his trouble-making and blustering. Though perhaps he may someday be put on trial by the IPC if the theories that he is working alongside Aventurine to undermine the corporation are true - we will just have to wait and see.

Thanks for reading my little ramble. I'd be super interested in anyone's thoughts if they'd like to share, but regardless, I'll leave off on some of my favourite wee quotes from the Rat man:

'Even a life marked by failure is a life worth living - it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up.'

'Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck.'

[girlreborn]

“Look at me.”

His tone leaves no room for apprehension or resistance. As much as you would prefer to desperately avoid his piercing gaze, you’ve known Ratio long enough to gauge the fact that he’s too stubborn for you to escape this situation without complying.

So you do.

Your vision is blurry with the amount of tears congealing above your eyeball, but you can see Ratio’s face. His gaze is contemplative as he looks back back into your own, eyes narrowing. His opposite hand hovers near your face for a moment, almost as if to hold an unguentarium to your eyes to collect the liquid dripping out… before he shifts, placing it in front of you to where you could hold onto it.

“You’re in no condition to keep working,” he says matter-of-factly, “Grab onto me. We’re leaving.”

i have recently posted a new one shot, esse est percipi. this is just a teaser. you can view the full version here.

[ecarlatte]

a little late to advertising but i wrote a silly little mutual pining pre-penacony ratiorine fic :)

esse est percipi (3.9k words)

Ratio leans over to pick Aventurine’s gloves and jacket from the bed, and sweep the rings into his hand; Aventurine watches him detachedly as he does so. “You know,” Aventurine says, and Ratio pauses. Their faces are uncomfortably close. “Your eyes.” He stops. “My eyes,” Ratio repeats. He does not move. - (or: days before aventurine’s scheduled trip to penacony, about three terrible cocktails in, he finds himself in the same ballroom as ratio.)

[whiteskullofroses]

STAR OF JERUSALEM

Baldwin Iv x Reader

🕯️Imagine you're a theatre star touring the world. Once you perform on the Holy Land, The king notices your talent and wishes to get to know you.🕯️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"AND ONE AND TWO AND THREE AND Y/N GO!"

And you went. Stepping on the red X drawn upon the stage. Your joyful and youthful face turning into a straight and emotionless one.

"Esto quod es, ex animo, ex Luna."

The scene looked absolutely mesmerising. On the huge wooden floor sat a man-made moon in the phase of waning crescent. Behind you swung stars, the hot weather of Jerusalem making them shimmer and shine as though they were a sheet of a book kissed by candle light.

"Esse est percipi." Clapping sharply and reaching for one of the stars: "ad altiora tendo." Throwing the star on the ground, having it dramatically break apart: "ad astra."

Swirling in your own little world as the strings played a gentle, heart touching melody on the command of the harpist's fingertips.

"Luceo non uro." You sang, breathing steadily and stopping on the centre of the stage again: "nec spe" the music picked up the pace, you dropped to you knees: "nec metu."

"BEAUTIFUL Y/N! BEAUTIFUL!"

You inhaled deeply, for this night wasn't like no other. Rumors roaming around like a vampire at night, that his majesty, Baldwin the fourth will be joining the hopeful crowd of people who share a passion for ancient poetry combined with dread that comes with being alive and wanting it acted out infront of them.

Such news excited you madly, wanting to do the best of the best you practiced day and night for this magical show which will appear before everyone's eyes tonight.

You were incredibly lucky to have God bless you with the talent of being such a delicate preformer. The bigger the crowd, the better. The more eyes were glued to you the smoother words ran out of your mouth.

'What a lovely feeling it is, to be loved.' you thought, not only today but often as you've seen all of Europe, have met hundreds of impressionable people of whom you only heard in fairytales as a lowborn child. Them preaching what a fine show you've put on behind the stage curtains after every show made you feel like a flawless angel with bright wings and the purest soul.

The Holy Spirit inside you was preaching that showing off your skill to who some call 'the messenger of God', or simply the ruler of the Holy Land, should be your top priority. You always listened to it, as a personal belief of yours was that It was in fact God speaking to you through it. So what other choice could you have?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heavy clouds casted upon the wide stadium. Whispers of wonder were dominated by laughter of those already tipsy ones. These kinds of special events that to foreigners often seemed formal, were in all reality a party for all kinds. Those who wished to drink through the show were allowed without any restrictions, yet those who listened and watched you, were rather intoxicated with words that cut deep.

And so it is. The Greek harpist began strumming a century old melody called: 'Stella iuxta Lunam'. The crowd went silent like birds during a storm. Curtains coloured dark blue opened, presenting a beautiful young woman in a black dress with pearls in her hair. That woman was you.

The people of Jerusalem weren't used to a woman showing her hair, not only because of how religious the people were, but also because of the hot weather. Many people would suffer heat strokes and terrible migraines without them.

As you sang in Latin, the clouds cried down on the Earth. Soft tapping mother nature provided with the downpour gave out a great additional scene.

"Ad astra..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Folks cheered, threw roses and whistled in your honor over and over again. The rain had long before stopped allowing the stars to shine up in the skies.

Bowing and sending kisses to the sea of people, you left the stage.

Sighing and letting your hair down. Just as you were about to go drink some water, you heard an unfamiliar voice speak your name.

"Yes?" Breathing out and turning towards the one standing behind you.

As soon as you saw his metal mask you quickly added: "Your majesty."

Straightening up and giving your hair a quick fix, he started: "I greatly apologize for interrupting you while on break."

Sitting down on a chair, breathing heavily.

He was so sick. It broke your heart, poor twenty year old couldn't even walk a couple of meters without almost passing out.

"However" he continued: "I must say I'm a great fan of your work."

Taken back from the fact that the King of Jerusalem himself came to see you perform despite his state: "I'm truly honored, your majesty-"

"Baldwin." Interrupting you. Noticing your surprised expression he chuckled.

"Alright, Baldwin. Thank you for coming to see me tonight." It wasn't unusually for you to have people of power view you as one of them. After all you made good money and were loved to death by whole of Europe.

"I'm really proud of how far you've come." Baldwin was showering you in compliments and all you could do was redden in the cheeks and grin.

After a while he pondered: "How long are you staying here, Y/N? Tilting his head to you, who was now sitting opposite to him.

"Three days."

Baldwin leaned forward: "Do you play chess?"

You did. And you were bloody good at it too.

"Join me tomorrow for a round then." Standing up and taking one last look at you: "when the Sun goes down."

THE END.

[coficarameru]

"Ess e est percipi"

[gloryestpercipi]

esse est percipi

[talonabraxas]

Pythagoras, circa 570-495 BC:

"In the sacred geometry of existence, the right angle is the corner stone upon which the universe is constructed. It is the meeting point of the material and the divine, where the earthly and celestial realms align."

Hermetic Wisdom, "The Emerald Tablet," attributed to Hermes Trismegistus:

"As above, so below, and in the sacred right angle, the secrets of the cosmos are unveiled. Seek the perfection of this angle, and you shall find the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe."

Albrecht Dürer, Renaissance Artist and Geometer:

"The right angle is the gateway to the harmony of proportions. In its symmetry lies the perfection of God's design, mirrored in the beauty of art and architecture."

Rosicrucian Manuscripts, 17th Century:

"The right angle, the symbol of divine balance, holds the power to transmute base matter into spiritual gold. It is the cornerstone of alchemical transformation."

René Descartes, 17th Century Philosopher and Mathematician:

"Cogito, ergo sum, yet the right angle, esse est percipi—To be, is to be perceived, and in the right angle's existence, it is perceived as the foundation of mathematical truths."

The Golden Dawn, 19th-20th Century Occult Order:

"Within the pentagram, the right angle represents the element Earth, grounding and stabilizing our spiritual endeavors. It is the symbol of earthly wisdom."

Aleister Crowley, Occultist and Magickian:

"In the Book of the Law, it is written: 'Let there be no difference made among you between any one thing and any other thing; for thereby there cometh hurt.' The right angle signifies the unity of all things, where distinctions dissolve."

Vedic Wisdom, Ancient Indian Texts:

"In the sacred geometry of Vastu Shastra, the right angle known as 'Vedha' is the cornerstone of architectural harmony. It guides the construction of sacred spaces in alignment with cosmic energies."

Chinese Feng Shui Tradition:

"The right angle, like the gentle curve of the dragon's spine, brings balance and harmony to the flow of qi. It is the foundation of auspicious space design."

Islamic Geometric Art:

"In the intricate patterns of Islamic art, the right angle symbolizes the intersection of the finite with the infinite, creating mesmerizing tessellations that reflect the perfection of the Divine."

Cymatics 144hz, water cymatics

[ghelgheli]

Stuff I Read In August 2024

bold indicates favourites

Books

Minima Moralia, Theodor Adorno [link]

Joseph Stalin: A Political Biography, Marx-Engels-Lenin Institute

Exordia, Seth Dickinson

The Racial Contract, Charles W. Mills

Short Fiction

Esse est percipi, Jorge Luis Borges & Adolfo Bioy Casares [link]

The Proper Study, Isaac Asimov

2430 A.D., Isaac Asimov

The Greatest Asset, Isaac Asimov

The Jaunt, Stephen King [link]

There Will Come Soft Ruins, Ray Bradbury [link]

Harrison Bergeron, Kurt Vonnegut [link]

Billenium, J. G. Ballard [link]

The Food of the Gods, Arthur C Clarke

The Star, Arthur C Clarke

Tantie Merle and the Farmhand 4200, R. S. A. Garcia [link]

Queer &c.

Kill the Couple in Your Head, Anonymous [link]

Gender without Gender Identity: The Case of Cognitive Disability, Elizabeth Barnes [link]

The Woman Question, Lori Watson [link]

Being Your Best Self: Authenticity, Morality, and Gender Norms, Rowan Bell

Reimagining Transgender, Robin Dembroff [link]

Yep, I’m Gay: Understanding Agential Identity, Robin Dembroff & Catharine Saint-Croix [link]

Forgotten lives: Trans older adults living with dementia at the intersection of cisgenderism, ableism/cogniticism and ageism, Alexandre Baril & Marjorie Silverman [link]

Dementia and the gender trouble?: Theorising dementia, gendered subjectivity and embodiment, Linn J. Sandberg [link]

Pol

Moving Towards Life, Marina Magloire [link]

Rosa Luxemburg Foundation please note: ‘A time comes when silence is betrayal’, Haifa Zangana [link]

Beyond Orientalism and Islamophobia: 9/11, Anti-Arab Racism, and the Mythos of National Pride, Steven George Salaita

On misogynoir: citation, erasure, and plagiarism, Moya Bailey & Trudy [link]

Other

“Democratizing AI” and the Concern of Algorithmic Injustice, Ting-an Lin [link]

What is a (social) structural explanation? Sally Haslanger [link]

The Importance of `Godzilla' Cannot Be Overstated, Charlie Brigden [link]

The Special Effects in Citizen Kane, Wesley Tilford [link]

For Friendship to be Revolutionary, Sever [link]

[sgiandubh]

'Ambassador' Anon

I hear you. But as I repeatedly said, I am not going to discuss that particular, extensive topic ever again. Thank you for stopping the insistence: I often find my kindness made me look like a fool.

That being said, you are correct. Double standard was never a problem across the street.

Also, age, geography, spiritual commitments (or lack thereof) always play a very important part in this game.

Your ask/submission made me remember a very useful quote, I will immediately disagree with:

Esse est percipi. To be is to be percieved.

George Berkeley was a genius. I am not sure his anti-Ockham razor principle is right in this situation, though.

Please do not insist with dragging that person to my inbox. Thank you.

[licially]

Checkmate: Esse est percipi.

/// A gift for @niagaragrape and their character Pamella, but reposted on here because my writer's block is hitting me again and I kinda wanna spread my fics across tumblr and twitter, enjoy the read.

Out of mind, out of touch, yet not out of life. The duo of cats strutted into the complex at the dead of night, as the crickets nearby croaked loudly and the farm sat underutilized. Autumn turned the production down by a notch, and the decline of such delicacy had led to this farm to cut down their services little by little. After all, their dominance and reputation not only came from this humble farm but a major bootlegging operation just outside of Missouri, and Pamella Pomedore had taken that operation without another hitch.

Besides her, unlocking the door of the house that stood atop the premises, was Mordecai Heller. The infamy that surrounds him and his reluctance to follow the people that once considered him a henchman or a triggerman. She had found him recently after the fallout of Marigold, and the disbandment after Asa Sweet met the same fate as his partner, with a similar incident that had left the three conspirators of the crew: Nicodeme Savoy, Serafine Savoy and Mordecai Heller choosing to mutually separate. The lock’s jingle twisted and turned, as Mordecai cautiously opened the door for possible intrusions. The front of the estate boasted more grandeur than he’d been accustomed to, and the multiple walkways posed more problems that were unseen than the rest of the house. Before he could utter any words to the other party, the other door swung open by Pamella’s hands. 

Her grasp from the door proved difficult to let go, as she took in where she had been prior to overrunning the bootlegging operation. Mordecai opted to finally go into the complex, his hand poised towards his holster as he rustled through the house through its multiple floors. He had no idea of any dangers that lurked by, nor did he have an idea on where he was at, but he sweeped the floor regardless. As he flicked the first lightswitch on, he went through towards the kitchen, off towards the right hand side, with its rose patterns dancing through the white tiles and marble benchtops that once housed utensils. Past the kitchen top, through the island that sat in between, and outwards through the pantry door, he walked through the living room, his tail and eyes both whizzed through the room’s decorations.

The living room proved to be nothing out of the ordinary: a more than comfortable sofa, with an ottoman tucked neatly towards the center, and a coffee table that sat just towards the back side towards the windows that is covered with an undetermined color. The space itself didn’t have much to offer, as the lights flickered on: the curtains themselves showed a dark blue sheen, with a fireplace that sat towards the center left of the room, and an empty wooden shelf that sat atop the stone fireplace. Confused, he turned towards the living room door to see that Pamella caught up with his antics.

“Your paranoia proves fatal, Mr. Heller.” She addressed him, a slight smile attached to her. 

Mordecai was always known for his careful consideration of foreign space, not even his own apartment is safe from his cautiousness, which stemmed from paranoia from formerly being Atlas’ triggerman and, more infamously, Asa’s partner-in-crime. However, after he was relieved from his duties at Marigold, he doesn't seem to know how to keep this feeling in check.

“This is an estate riddled with insecurities. To be paranoid is better than to be careless.” 

She scoffed at him, turning to leave back through the door he entered from, mouthing a few words off to herself as she leaves him to be. She pondered at the ceiling of where she had been before she went into the city, back when she had nothing to worry about other than the flowers that flowed between her hair and the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of her mother’s cooking. Sometimes, the sting of homegrown tomatoes, and soft sizzle washed over the melodies that played in her ears during her off time. She frowned, slightly, as she traced her hand through the benchtop. There was nostalgia to be brushed off, and thus emotions also reigned over her. 

Was it regret? Was it acceptance? Was it confusion? Perhaps a mix of all three, as she stood there for a bit. Shortly, the flower patterns caught her eyes. It was randomly assorted, just dancing up and down with different flowers, and different colored roses. She still vividly heard her mother’s voice, who pointed at the specific flowers that matched with what they had on the garden beds in the backyard, in convenience of the kitchen window that happened to overlook an abandoned patch of grass. She remembered, she only remembered two words.

“Esse…. est.” She mouthed out, managing to also garner the attention of Mordecai, who was standing off towards the side silently. Pamella zoned out, trying to rummage through what she knows about her mother and what she had left behind with her. She can only remember some things, not all of them were pleasant either, yet-

“Miss Pomedore? Is something disturbing you about this place?”

Mordecai’s voice cut through her initial spiral, his monotonous voices served a condescending parallel towards her spiral and her as well, as Pamella shook her head and tail, rapidly blinking in and out of the mindset before walking towards the cat in question. The other could only turn and watch as she walked past, trailing off of a sentence that Mordecai barely made out.

“Nothing more than bad memories…” She mumbled off, her face of an unforeseen sadness.

Furthermore, she kept walking back into the main entrance, passing through the dining room completely, as she faced the staircase that led upstairs. The marble staircase stood out from the rest of the household, the railings etched more and more floral designs, walls cracked and crumbled, charred with markings of stencils that she remembers when she was here. The trail, and subsequent staircase, lead up to the second floor, where they had lived the early lives out in private estate, granted by the tomatoes that grew abundant and business surrounding those sought after crops.

She walked upstairs, her silence still remained between her and the triggerman as she ascended the staircase, with Mordecai closely following. He had hoped for this random midnight trip to go just as she had said prior to this sequence of events: a “trip back home to get a few things”, within the span of a few minutes, turned into a nostalgic trip through her childhood home. Sure, this may be better than the endless amounts of tasks that he was subjected to by Atlas and Asa, but his plans were all definite and set in stone. He wasn’t exactly prepared for the change, especially not from her of all people.

Pamella reached the stop, and immediately ignored all of the other rooms. She acted ghastly, and appeared as if she was an apparition before she reached the room near the end of the hall. Mordecai watched as she slipped through the barely visible doorway, as he soon followed suit in a tick of fear. The door creaked, and the room itself made its main attraction towards the place clear. The doors towards the balcony were wide open, with the view that could stun anyone fortunate enough to stumble into this house; the left viewed towards St. Louis’ skyline and buildings, with a road that was leading towards it, shrinking lights and even smaller treelines. Smokes billowed up from unseen factories, and leading towards the right hand side was the Mississippi River. The other doorway towards the right had a view towards the river some more, albeit for a moment. The landscape over towards the right expanded through the clearings and farmland that grew prominent and offered peace of mind, perfect for anyone looking to do something without such a distraction for a background. Near the middle of the room, a piano sat whose pianist could face the calmer side of the Missouri-Illinois border.

The piano itself sat behind a sheet, as Pamella soon disposed of the sheet towards the side, where empty shelves once held sheet music. This had been her piano that she vividly saw in that dream, something that took her back here, whatever force of nature had been involved, put her here. As she turned the lights on, she lifted up the key lid, the piano keys sat burdened with dust and revitalized by a touch, put out years of neglect out of it.

A reluctant oscillation from a hasty key press arose a panicked reaction from Pamella, as she never dealt with a tuned out piano before, since this one has constantly been tuned to near perfection by pianists that had been hired by the Pomedore household. Her wealthy stature now extended as far back as the piano key’s off putting vibrato that shook the two cats, one more lightly than the other, more experienced pianist. Mordecai had been standing towards the side all along, and peeked at the piano itself and back to Pamella every once in a while. He was already bedazzled by the interior of such a place, and it’d be more impressive if she delivers her promise of that prelude. However, from the sound of the out of tune key, it’d seem that he’ll involve himself in this symphony one way or another.

Curious, she tiptoed over the grand piano’s monstrous bowels and past the lid that overshadowed her. It didn’t help that it represented one of her fears, that some day she’d be overwhelmed by a force far beyond her control and size completely. She hesitated, before looking over at the cast iron that held it for dear life, noting that it didn’t seem too rusted nor would it be much trouble for the heir of the family. Cautiously, she peered through the soundboard and at the tuning pins.

The key she had struck - an F key on the fourth octave - heard more like an E sharp towards the fifth octave. A simple fix would be to tune the pin at the same time someone would be playing a note, yet she wasn’t exactly the jack of all trades that could do both of those at the same time. She stood up, and turned towards the triggerman who stood at the balcony overlooking the city, calling out for his help.

“Mr. Heller, would you care to help me tune this piano?” 

Her calmness certainly got through to him, as he slowly straddled over towards her, peering into the piano’s many tuning pins.

“Tuning a piano does require a lot of effort. Are you prepared for this task?”

She nodded, as she handed a piano tuning hammer to a very confused Mordecai.

“There are some keys out of tune, and as I play through the keys you will use this to tune it until I say it’s just right. Understood?”

The former only nodded, a bit confused but he was in no position to talk back to her. She dusted off the seat, and pulled it closely to the piano as she pressed every key of the octave. Slowly, softly, the key comes into more in tune, with a keen eye from outside, as Pamella showed no sign of stopping up to the second octave. So far, so good. The second octave began, and for the first half, it went smoothly, until a shrill tone shook Pamella, as she stopped in her tracks. Hesitantly, Mordecai went towards the pin closest to that key: a D key, out of tune, and Mordecai was able to follow up with the tuning as he twisted and turned the pin under Pamella’s slow but frequent key press. Eventually, it reached the sound that was consistent with the D key.

“Well done, Mordecai.” She congratulated, yet the moment was short lived. “Shall we continue?”

Through the span of 15 minutes, she went over every octave of the grand piano. Some keys struck off tune, yet otherwise the instrument remained in near-perfect condition after this household was left almost abandoned. This room had served as both a leisure room, and a practice room. With the last key press going without a hitch, Mordecai stood back with the hammer as Pamella sat zoned out again. Mordecai soon got back to the balcony, after placing the hammer on a nearby table with a picture. He took no mind to it, but the picture showed a much younger Pamella in the foreground of a field of flowers. However, he took no notice, and opted for an outside look towards the city, wondering what he had to do.

In less than a minute, began Chopin’s Prelude in Op. 38, first in D Major. Pamella took time to study sheet music from some of the famous works of pianists and composers. Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, she had the sheet music from them at the ready thanks in part to her reputation and wealth. Her affinity with piano and its intricacy stemmed from this room, and she had this tune that brought her home again. From D Major, she transitioned to an even faster F sharp minor, which ferocity soon brought a halt through an E flat major, and finally she halted at a loop of D minor.

Upon a grand piano, sat a grander movement with grandeur, yet she sat amidst it all, fully embodying the heart and soul of the preludes. Chopin’s Preludes demonstrated what an experienced pianist can embody through the movements in different keys and octaves, and further amplifying said skill by transitioning each prelude to one another, effectively linking the preludes together by improvisation and heavy knowledge for the art. She had those preludes saved for the times she did slowly but surely get back to where her home once was: her heart.

A slight push upon the pince-nez, and a slow turn from the other party, as Mordecai impressively stood amidst the movements. His appreciation for piano works and classical music had always been a more reserved thing for him, yet the tune of tonight only filled his once troubled mind with a lasting impression. Pamella only continued on, as her focus and dedication flowed back through the preludes as the E flat minor segment played out, soon soloing into a B-flat minor, in which the latter’s fast tempo left even Mordecai facing her with full on attention. 

He also finally knew the answer to the statement that she had said downstairs. Esse est percipi, a philosophical saying from George Berkeley, or “to be is to be perceived”. He had seen her dabble in philosophy, and maybe he saw this opportunity and concurrent state of her wellbeing, and her legacy, to be associated with that one quote alone. Maybe this piece she is improvising from the Préludes is her piecing together what connections she and her family had made over the decades. Yet he saw the piece more as an interlude during the chaos of Missouri, as the pieces deliver more a perfect assortment of chaos that ran the backbone of St Louis.

Perhaps, this is just the Queen’s Gambit. An opening towards the unknown, and it is the determinant of who or what wins the game of chess. No matter what, the chessboard is in the hands of her, and her alone.

[treeofliferpg]

Ideas de rol: Hechizos

Recordamos que el siguiente texto no ha sido redactado por el staff de ToL, solo lo hemos traducido para que pueda llegar a más personas. La autoría pertenece a @goodbyedearfriends. Su tumblr está desactivado, pero podéis leer el post original en nuestro tumblr bajo la etiqueta "idioma original".

ab intra - desde dentro

ab origine - de la fuente

absit iniuria - “que el insulto esté ausente”

absit invidia - “que la envidia esté ausente”

absit omen - “que el presagio esté ausente”

ab uno disce omnes - de uno, aprenden todos

abyssus abyssum invocat - el abismo llama al abismo

a capite ad calcem - de pies a cabeza

acta non verba - acciones, no palabras

ad altiora tendo - “Me esfuerzo por cosas más altas”

ad astra - a las estrellas

ad fontes - a las fuentes

ad meliora - hacia mejores cosas

ad oculos - a los ojos

ad undas - a las olas

ad victoriam - a la victoria

adsum - Estoy aquí

a fortiori - desde la fuerza/fortaleza

a mari usque ad mare - de mar a mar

audeamus - atrevamonos

audentes fortuna iuvat - la fortuna favorece a los valientes

audi, vide, tace - escuchar, ver, callar

beatae memoriae - una memoria bendita

bona fide - de buena fe

bono malum superate - vence al mal con el bien

capax infiniti - sosteniendo el infinito

carpe diem - aprovecha el día

carpe noctem - aprovecha la noche

cave - cuidado

ceteris paribus - todas las cosas son iguales

circa - alrededor

citius, altius, fortius - más rápido, más alto, más fuerte

clavis aurea - llave dorada

cogito ergo sum - Pienso, luego existo

compos mentis - en control de la mente

concilio et labore - con sabiduría y esfuerzo

concordia cum veritate - en armonía con la verdad

concordia salus - bienestar a través de la armonía

coniunctis viribus - con fuerza conectada

consummatum est - estar/está completo

corruptus in extremis - corrupto al extremo

crescit eundo - crece a medida que avanza

de novo - de/desde lo nuevo

de profundis - de/desde lo profundo/profundidades

dies irae - días de ira

dona nobis pacem - danos paz

ego te provoco - te desafío

esse est percipi - ser en lugar de parecer

esse quam videri - ser es ser percibido

esto quod es - ser lo que eres

ex animo - desde el alma

ex luna scientia - de la luna, conocimiento

ex scientia tridens - del conocimiento, poder

ex silentio - de/desde el silencio

ex undis - de/desde las olas del mar

experientia docet - la experiencia enseña

fac et spera - hazlo y espera

fac fortia et patere - haz un acto valiente y aguanta

faciam quodlibet quod necesse est - haz lo que sea necesario

faciam ut mei memineris - Te haré recordar

facta, non verba - hechos no palabras

fortis et liber - fuerte y libre

fortis in arduis - fuerte en las dificultades

gloriosus et liber - glorioso y libre

hic abundant leones - aquí abundan los leones

hic et nunc - aquí y ahora

hic sunt dracones - aquí hay dragones

hinc illae lacrimae - por eso las lágrimas

hinc itur ad astra - desde aquí el camino conduce a las estrellas

igni ferroque - con fuego y hierro

in memoriam - en la memoria

in nocte consilium - el consejo llega de la noche a la mañana

libra - balance

littera scripta manet - las palabras escritas perduran

locus standi - derecho a estar en pie

luceo non uro - Brilla, no te quemes

luctor et emergo - lucho y emerjo

mare liberum - mar libre

memento vivere - recuerda vivir

more ferarum - como bestias

natura non contristatur - la naturaleza no se entristece

nec spe, nec metu - sin esperanza, sin miedo

noli me tangere - no me toques

ophidia in herba - una serpiente en la hierba

pro se - por uno mismo

propria manu - por la propia mano

quaere - buscar

quod abundat non obstat - lo que es abundante no obstaculiza

resurgam - me levantaré

semper ad meliora - siempre hacia cosas mejores

semper anticus - siempre adelante

semper apertus - siempre abierto

semper fortis - siempre valiente

semper liber - siempre libre

stet - dejaló descansar

tuebor - protegeré

vera causa - causa justa/verdadera

[starduststellarum]

one time one of my friends said she hears "esse est percipi" as "SAS per kibby" when ratio's hsr ad shows up for her and i think abt it when i see him

[petalidiagapanto]

«"Esse est percipi" disse il filosofo irlandese George Berkeley... Noi esistiamo e diamo esistenza in virtù della percezione...

La percezione pone in essere e mantiene in vita l'essenza di ciò che è percepito; e quando la percezione vede nella "santità degli affetti del Cuore"... si disvelano cose che dimostrano la Verità dell'immaginazione»

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(James Hillman, Il codice dell'anima)