#Library Expedition

[benirium]

[Сказания предков]

[CANCELED]

---

Глава 8 (34): Вестник краха и триумфа

За время нашей с Политимосом разлуки он, ведомый жаждой кровной мести, успел изрядно проредить иферийскую знать. Конечно, настоящие его враги давно стыли в могилах, но зато пустили длинные ветви в лице многочисленных потомков — принц твёрдо вознамерился оборвать их все. Разум его ставил под сомнение выбранный путь — тем не менее, скорбь по матери возобладала, и грехи отцов обошлись сотне невинных душ слишком дорого.

После «праведного очищения» юноша оказался единственным претендентом на трон, но титул короля претил Джину как лишнее напоминание о грязных интригах Электины. Дабы угодить своему лидеру, вместо этого иферийцы нарекли его Кириосом — в честь древнего владыки Разрушения.

Волнения на юго-востоке континента не остались незамеченными для остальной части Аврории — некоторые крупные государства решили воспользоваться моментом и покорить Иферию, за что также жестоко поплатились. Словно стараясь уравновесить чаши весов, Джин сражался на самом острие атаки — неумолимо, исступлённо… даже немного дико. В сменяющих друг друга беспощадных столкновениях он постепенно постигал запредельную силу, преподнесённую Садом.

Окружающих не слишком беспокоило, что под предлогом заботы о подданных Кириос низвергал целые династии, издревле соперничавшие с Иферией. Война давалась ему даже чересчур легко, и, по правде говоря, он упивался кровопролитием — лишь безумная пляска клинков выводила нелюдимого воина из беспросветного уныния.

В редкие часы покоя Анталлон, всегда следовавший за господином по пятам, помогал тому исследовать новые способности и убаюкивать чувство вины. Всякий раз, когда моральный компас Джина бил тревогу, наперсник умело перекладывал ответственность на мёртвых. По настоянию колдуна юноша всё чаще погружался в медитацию, оттого казался собственному народу далёким и загадочным. Плебс, впрочем, воспринимал подобное поведение как очередное подтверждение божественности и только глубже укреплялся в вере.

Однажды перед визирем Политимос разоткровенничался о Наиме, чем подлый чернокнижник не преминул воспользоваться: очень скоро ту вплели в мифологемы о Кириосе, где миджанийка предстала невестой бога.

Но миру — да и самому Теневому Соколу — оставалась неведома куда более любопытная черта древнего духа, а именно — характер его силы. Истинный Кириос — вовсе не хищный жнец, а вестник победы. Его благословение заключалось в привилегии всегда одерживать верх — загвоздка лишь в том, что сам носитель обращал её в разрушение.

Узнать о своём благодетеле побольше мечтали многие послушники. Кое-какие старинные манускрипты, обнаруженные ими, даже повествовали о преданном забвению божестве со схожими атрибутами — тексты гласили, что его последователи попросту устали и отвернусь от своего необузданного идола.

Обеспокоенные судьбою предводителя иферийцев, подобострастные прихожане позаботились о том, чтобы тот ознакомился с документами лично. Изучив рукописи, молодой правитель замкнулся ещё больше, утопая в прорве вопросов к своей судьбе. Шла ли там речь о хозяине пустого престола у Древа Мира, чьи силы он предположительно черпал? Ведь описанный колоритный облик — точь-в-точь статуя позади трона... Мало того: в собственном отражении Джин узнавал почти идеальную иллюстрацию к прочитанным свиткам.

Интуиция подсказывала Джину скрыть документы от Анталлона, но бумаги всё равно угодили в лапы коварного советника. Тот нашёл их не просто примечательными, а критически важными: нынешние умения Правого Клинка вполне соответствовали возможностям безымянного бога, что, однако, не помешало последнему оказаться погребённым под толщей веков.

Но как мог бесследно исчезнуть тот, кому неведомы поражения? Единственно правильным объяснением Анталлон счёл падение культа. Он рассудил: если без идолопоклонников покровитель обречён кануть в небытие, то верно и обратное — божество с абсолютным, всеобщим влияниям обретёт всесилие и бессмертие.

Основываясь на полученных выводах, Анталлон призвал государя вернуться к завоеваниям: если тот не желает кончить как Забытый бог, ему надлежит склонить на свою сторону как можно больше сподвижников, а лучше — обратить в свою религию весь материк.

Хотя зачастую Политимос соглашался с десницей, сейчас он оставался глух к любым увещеваниям — настолько был сбит с толку внутренним конфликтом. Да, за его плечами — невероятное путешествие, в финале которого он приобрёл сверхъестественные навыки, но впрямь ли это наделяло его статусом божества? Если да — каковы перспективы его прежнего «я»? А если отсутствие веры действительно губит богов — лишится ли Джин новых сил, или же всего своего естества? Что именно определяло его как личность: воспоминания Джина Эвернайта, над которым и так годами довлела тень Ирхо, или ниспосланное могущество Кириоса?

Анталлон не располагал ответами, и Джину пришлось руководствоваться исключительно собственными чувствами. Даже если его жизнь отравлена целым спектром душевных страданий, сгинуть в безвестности он тоже не хотел — довольно и того, что его забыли друзья.

Из семени страха он взрастил новый смысл существования: если развязывая очередной конфликт он привлекает всё больше неофитов, продлевая тем самым свои дни, — возможно, даже бесконечно? — он обретает шанс когда-нибудь вновь встретить Кипрозу. Если орел славы возвысит его до властелина единой империи, разве это не поставит его на одну ступень с Богиней-матерью? С равной ей властью он смог бы призвать к себе близких… даже с того света!

Покоя не давали и слова Розы из ночных видений: стоило ли расценивать их как пророчество, мистическое откровение? Его руки уже по локоть в крови — поможет ли она смыть её? Или отсечёт прежнего Джина — настоящего Джина! — от архаичного духа, с коим отныне ему предстояло делить темницу собственной плоти?

Той ночью ответ избранницы, наконец, изменился: «Однажды мы воссоединимся навеки». оооооооооо оооооооооо

оооооооооо оооооооооо

Заголовок — парадоксальный титул, в совершенстве описывающий Кириоса: врагам он несёт неотвратимое поражение и забвение, а союзникам — гарантированную победу, поэтому обычного характеристика божества зависит от роли, в которой выступает автор высказывания. Вероятно, из этого противоречия и родился усреднённый вариант — «бог войны».

---

---

{ К Содержанию }

[worstjourney]

'Dear Google,' said I, 'please show me what a shear crack in sea ice looks like.'

'Do you mean T. Griffith Taylor's unpublished stereograph of the shear crack between Inaccessible and Tent Islands, which he and Wright admired on the day Wright wanted to shoot Teddy Evans (who he thought was a penguin), which is probably why you're searching for shear crack reference?'

'Why yes, Google, that will do nicely, thank you.'

[concealed amongst hundreds of other random photos on the National Library of Australia's Flickr. There are also some Hurley photos from the Australasian Expedition but this is not a Mawson blog.]

[slow-burn-sally]

Fuck your fucking funeral

Fuck your fucking wedding

Fuck your fucking weekend away

Fuck your fucking camping trip

Fuck your fucking awards ceremony

Stop inviting me to things that might cause meltdowns or burnouts and then nagging at me and guilting me when I say no.

No, I don't care if this funeral is my "last chance to say goodbye".

No, I don't care that it's my cousin's wedding, and I "should be there to support him".

Family reunion? I don't fucking care. They can email me if they want to stay in touch. I can see them separately in quiet little coffee shops on un-crowded weekdays.

If you're fine with pressuring me into activities and behaviors that harm me, then I'm fine with telling you to

JUST FUCK OFF

sincerely, your autistic friend.

[radiojamming]

Blanket statement but if you want to use the Franklin Expedition signatures for anything, go for it! Make edits or whatever! I’d appreciate credit if you source them from me but I’m not going to twist your arm for it!

[landgraabbed]

back at it again with the game i've been hyperfixated on, and now the game i've been really into lately (especially now that my unxeplored save file is with the devs to hopefully fix what went wrong) is book of travels.

it is technically an mmorpg, though servers are set up in a way that you rarely encounter others (with whom you can only talk using emotes), for which the devs call the game a tmorpg. it plays close to a crpg, though, in the same vein that morrowind is an rpg. character creation takes you from creating a form (with associated proficiencies and different starting skills pools), selecting your starting skill, your given name, your background, your traits (the game forces you to select a negative trait, which i adore), and finally customizing your character. you are allowed to write a background for your character yourself. and with the right knot (i.e., skill) other players can read it, and so can you read theirs. then, you are dropped into the beautiful, painting like world of the braided shore.

the braided shore is beautiful with scenery going from lush wooded areas to rocky passes. here, the people communicate with knots and unbind them for magical effects. tea have mystical effects and there are sefra (which i think act like spirits?) can offer you boons. the game doesn't give you many specific goals, but there is plenty to explore, and plenty to learn from the many npcs. the devs have implemented an in-game journal where you can jot down your notes as of yesterday, but i've been enjoying using my own notebook. it's not a game for everyone, but if you like to immerse yourself in a different world without the expectation that you should do quests or dailies or what have you, it's great. there's still quests though.

it's currently in early access, though my limited time with it (steam says 16.3 hours) has shown me that in game content will change as time goes. currently, as the devs work on the capital of kasa, there is a plot about why the capital is closed. i imagine that when the city is accessible the world will change. so it feels like there is an added benefit to onboarding during early access.

[archivist-dragonfly]

Book 439

In Search of Flowers of the Amazon Forests: Diaries of an English Artist Reveal the Beauty of the Vanishing Rainforests

Margaret Mee

Nonesuch Expeditions 1988

In 1956, when she was 47 years old, botanical artist and environmentalist Margaret Mee (1909-1988) made the first of her many journeys to the Amazon rainforest. Over the next 32 years, she would travel back to the Amazon 14 times, the last in 1988—the year of her death at the age of 79—to find and document the mysterious night-blooming Amazonian Moonflower, a plant that does not flower every year and only for one night when it does. This incredible book—in photos, maps, glorious botanical illustrations, and excerpts from Mee’s travel journals—documents every one of her 15 Amazon expeditions. Besides her illustration work, which stands with the best examples of botanical illustration, it is Mee’s devotion to saving and protecting the Amazon which stands out. Sadly, she would die in a car accident in England just days after the publication of this book.

[benirium]

[Сказания предков]

[CANCELED]

---

Глава 7 (33): Клятва

Могли ли Аранзеб и Таян им что-либо противопоставить? Как и остальные участники Экспедиции, в Саду они невольно прикоснулись к ауре Сиоль, которую ирамы считали мёртвым или незримым божеством, а Луций именовал Всебогиней. Очевидно, столь непостижимый опыт не прошёл бесследно, вызвав в них не только духовные, но и физические перемены.

Было бы преувеличением сказать, что эти двое получили от Сада дары, не существовавшие в природе Гирнора, — нет, скорее превзошли свои былые пределы. И теперь они играючи справлялись с тем, что раньше никогда бы не воплотили поодиночке. Подобный дуэт был вполне способен перевернуть ход любого сражения.

В предыдущих главах повествование обошло стороной момент, когда Аранзеб — а по всей видимости, и Таян — тоже побывал на судьбоносной поляне с нерукотворными престолами. Как и принц переулков, чародей заключил, что каждое древесное изваяние позади них соотносилось по крайней мере с одним из почитаемых на Аврории богов, олицетворяя различные аспекты многоликого демиурга — уникальные, но вместе с тем связанные. Однако отличительным стал тот факт, что волшебник не соблазнился занять ни один из тронов.

В кого бы он превратился в противном случае? В одного из выдуманных владык исковерканного людьми пантеона? Те лихо добавляли, дублировали, объединяли, вновь разделяли и вычёркивали идолов, позабыв о стоящей за ними фигуре. За множеством масок потерялся истинный лик Сиоль.

Религиозный хаос стал катализатором сегодняшних бедствий, когда двое смертных, выдающих себя за подлинных покровителей, обратили оружие против Дельфинада — самой цитадели веры. Творя чудеса, они окружили себя тысячами последователей, самые внушаемые из которых охотно вступали в легионы преданных воинов.

Если бы Аранзеб и Таян могли приоткрыть врата Сада для остальных, все бы сразу поняли, что сумасбродные божки лишь украли силы несравненной Создательницы. Но всё, на что сейчас были способны напарники, — это сдерживать самозванцев, попутно сопротивляясь тому, что их самих возведут в ранг Святых. Друзья были твёрдо убеждены: и они, и Шатигон с Хазе — всё те же тленные создания, незначительные детальки высшего замысла, не имеющие права возвышаться над прочими. Потому-то этих скромняг в народе и прозовут не «Богами», но «Героями».

Герои не отрицали концепцию младших духов в её изначальной сути, но современная «доктрина» пренебрегала ролью Богини-матери и влекла за собой многочисленные человеческие жертвы.

Сколь бы лукавым нам с вами это не казалось, кочевник и его друг-кудесник решили опровергнуть «избранность» неприятелей собственным примером. Видимо, искренне полагая себя обыкновенными смертными, они воспроизводили чудеса лжебогов, стремясь доказать, что подобные вещи подвластны любому и без вмешательства высших сил. К тому же, Аранзеб вернулся к своему призванию, обучая низкоуровневым заклинаниям всех, кто был открыт к знаниям и демонстрировал хотя бы зачатки таланта.

Друзья поклялись стать этому миру щитом, следуя поставленной миссии с честью и неукоснительностью. С их помощью Дельфинад отчасти восстановил былую мощь — в достаточной степени, чтобы бесперспективная осада переросла в динамическое противостояние.

Сквозь непроглядную мглу наконец забрезжил свет, вселивший в Аранзеба слабую надежду, — он и не подозревал, что настоящие испытания ещё впереди. В один из вечеров у шатра эльфа встретил нежданный посланник — студент школы Алесандэра…

---

---

{ К Содержанию }

[thatredheadwriter]

Fuck. I just bought more books.

[thebotanicalarcade]

n11_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library Via Flickr: Drawings/prints associated with USPRR reports & photographs/archival material. . biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40219139

[zevranunderstander]

hate to say it but with my obsession with Piranesi, The City of Dreaming Books, The Library of Babel and the Bloodborne Chalice Dungeons, if real life caves were about 10% more interesting I'd be dead already

[maxwellatoms]

They left me no choice.

The animation industry is an absolute trash fire right now, and TBH... I don't think it's going to recover. Not in a form I recognize, anyway.

I could go on all day about the self-hating monster that is the Animation Business, but I've said it all before. Right now, none of the major studios are making much of anything, and almost all of what they are making is "library content". I'm currently doing storyboard revisions alongside a number of other former producers and directors, and I'm lucky to have the work. Once all of the mismanagement and the mergers get sorted, though, there should be plenty of room for more mismanagement and mergers. And the A.I. Don't forget the A.I.

It seems that I either give myself over fully to the souring corporate teat in the hopes that I can pretend that I still live in a world where "the grind" matters. Or I take a risk and make one big push to do... something.

First up:

Billy & Mandy vs. The Entertainment Industry:

This is my interview/reality/documentary show on the making of The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy from stem to stern. I'll be talking to as many people as I can who worked on the show about all sorts of different parts of the process. We'll definitely get to voice actors, but the first segment is probably going to be about Billy & Mandy's pre-history and the Big Pick Weekend.

The Upward Expedition:

This is my pick for my indie show. I have a bible. I have a decade of ideas. Time to sit down and tell a story. I want to get some screen sharing going at some point. I'll definitely share artwork as well as the trials and tribulations of getting from There to Back Again.

I'd love to get a Discord server going and provide a place where people can talk about the stuff I'm making (and the entertainment industry in general). I still have enough Billy & Mandy swag left that I'm sure I'll factor that stuff in as well.

In the immediate future, the funding goes to securing a space to do the interviews and probably to banking money for voice actors. I'm still deciding on my update schedule, but it should start in earnest next week.

I'm excited. Pretty scared... but also excited.

More updates to come. Definitely let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see on the Patreon!

As always, thanks for sticking around!

[videogames-i-wish-were-real]

Videogames I wish were real #97

A roguelike game that takes place in the world's biggest library, which has been overrun by monsters, where you play as a librarian determined to save it. You venture inside the library armed with your weapon of choice and two messenger bags you plan to fill with whatever books you can rescue.

After you clear the monsters in a particular section of the library, such as the Poetry section, you'll unlock a permanent buff that will last for the remaining of that run. For example: clearing the Travel section will help you map areas faster, and also unlock the bookworm railway system that will allow you to move more easily between certain parts of the library.

Besides section buffs, you'll also be able to learn all kinds of useful attacks and skills by finding specific books in the shelves, reading them and carrying them in your messenger bags. The more books you carry, the stronger your character will be, and the abilities each book will grant you will be on theme with the book, it's literary genre or one of its tropes: carrying with you a bestiary will allow you to quickly identify the weak points of monsters you've met before, a book with an enemies to lovers trope will allow you to turn a monster into a temporary ally that will fight alongside you, a botany book in your bag will let you gather medicinal herbs growing in the library, and carrying a potions book will allow you to prepare healing potions (more effective than just herbs), etc.

Not everyone believes the library can be saved, which is why during your expeditions your mission is not only to kill monsters, but also to rescue books and bring them to the new library. Since getting books out is one of your main priorities, starting your runs with your satchels nearly full of books that grant you useful abilities won't be very efficient, so you'll need to decide how many books you want to bring back with you to the library during each run.

Fighting monsters is dangerous, and sometimes you get hurt, but also, sometimes books get hurt, which why after some runs you might need to stop by your workshop to repair any damaged books. The hides of certain monsters are very sturdy, so using them to rebind books will make them more durable.

There is no respawning in this game. If your librarian dies inside the library, the next librarian that ventures inside might eventually find their body. If you're close to death and you have a particular book from the Travel section in your bags, you'll be able to use it to summon a bookwork that will take you quickly and safely back to the entrance with whatever books are currently in your bag.

You love your library, and you are determined to save it, armed with the greatest weapon in the world: knowledge (and a sword), even if it's one book at a time.

[elbenwald13]

" Time To Say Goodbye"

Andrea Bocelli

@nzz_libro @s_walser

Ja. Ruhig mitsingen. Wieder ein wunderbares Buch beendet. Mehrfach gelesen. Geht jetzt erstmal vor Anker.

Noch ein letzter Spaziergang im Buch.

" Spitzbergen, diese << verrückte Gegend>>, verabschiedet sich von den Nordlandfahrenden dann doch noch so, wie es sie begrüsst hatte - mit einem Naturschauspiel: Wenige Stunden bevor die Erling Jarl mit Kurs aufs Nordkap in See sticht, reissen die Wolken auf, ein Bergzug nach dem anderen kommt zum Vorschein, und die Mitternachtssonne taucht alles in ein goldenes Licht. <<Noch einmal strahlte die nordische Wunderwelt in ihrer ganzen Pracht und stillen Schönheit, als wolle uns der Himmel für die Unbill der letzten Tage reichlich entschädigen>>, schreibt Wieland. Bis um 2 Uhr in der Früh arbeitet er im Postbüro an einem sechsteiligen Panorama - dann wird der Anker geliebt."

Alle Fotos stammen aus diesem wunderschönen Buch. Vor dem Hintergrund der traurigen Nachrichten..ein Ort zum ausruhen. Als Soundtrack wäre die " Peer Gynt Suite" auch geeignet.

Danke für diese Leseerfahrung.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Jürgen Gielsdorf (@jurgengielsdorf)

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ A Boy Named Heretic 

tw: mentions of stalking and theft. Dottore in his Akademiya days, reader hinted to be from Khaenri'ah. SFW

Imagine little boy Zandik, discreetly hiding behind the columns of the Akademiy, trying to take a peek at you from afar. You’d stand among your peers, the Akademiya’s uniform embracing your constitution to further highlight your comforting poise. You are taller than the young boy, a perfect image of a senior student with just a few semesters away from graduating and becoming an official researcher. Alas, the teen felt self-conscious to approach you directly, since he was only a junior trainee Dastur. 

Imagine little boy Zandik eavesdropping on your discussion with your friends. You’d complain to your friends how one of your notebooks on Linguistic Semantics and Pragmatics was lost. You were a diligent student, and your written notes were a reflection of your hard work, so it was natural for you to feel bummed out about losing your notebook out of the blue. Zandik would persist in eavesdropping, noticing your friends providing consultative pats on your back: “Maybe you left it some other place?” or “Maybe you forgot it in the previous class?” - they’d say. Little did you know that a young trainee Dastur was hugging your notebook close to himself, not admitting to anyone that he was the one who stole it.

Imagine little boy Zandik sneaking off into the lush gardens of the Akademiya or some other miscellaneous corner of Sumeru. He’d hold your notebook protectively as if it was his newest treasure from the one he adores. He’d spend hours reading your notes, analyzing your handwriting, and smiling at the small doodles left on certain pages. Zandik’s fingers would gently trace the outline of your pages, memorizing the unique theories and thoughts you conveyed in your notebooks. His dorm room was filled with various notes or papers you randomly discarded or forgot about. Now it proudly hung, being displayed on his wall. 

Imagine little boy Zandik never telling anyone that he was the one who pocketed your negligible belongings. Yet in a couple of weeks or months, you’d mysteriously find your long-forgotten notebooks once more. There it is, in your backpack, as if you never lost it. You’d scratch your head in confusion, unaware of carnelian red eyes staring at you from across the library. Even yet, oblivious of the boy whose cold stare would turn into a longing gaze. Any books you borrowed from the library a week ago were now on his desk.

Imagine little boy Zandik being conveniently nearby when you stormed into the student affairs office, complaining to one of the supervisors how your Akademiya uniform was stolen. You’d relentlessly argue about how you definitely did not leave it somewhere randomly, only to forget it after returning from a research expedition. Thus, after a useless talk in the office, you’d sigh and slump down in the empty hallway wearing casual clothes due to your missing uniform. 

“...Excuse me, miss?” - a small voice interrupted your thoughts when a junior student approached you. He stood there for a while, hands behind his back and big round eyes gawking. 

“...Um, yeah?” - you replied with uncertainty, trying to conjure a polite smile. “How may I help you?” 

“You’re not in your Akademiya uniform. I heard a commotion from the office from which you came from…” - he spoke, although hesitantly as if looking you straight in the eyes was an act of disrespect that could shatter him. “Did you lose yours?” 

“Ah, well, about that…” - you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry, was I too loud that other students heard from the hallway? My bad… Yes, I have indeed lost mine. Although I am more than certain it was stolen directly from my bag.” 

The young trainee Dastur stood in front of you, his eyes still wide and observant of your every move. He mustered a reply and said: “Don’t worry. No one heard… Only I did.” 

You stared at him awkwardly. Where did this boy come from? 

“Is this yours, miss?” - he suddenly revealed neatly folded clothes from behind his back. And wouldn’t you know, it was indeed your uniform. You hopped up in an instant. 

“Whoa-! It’s my uniform! But how, and where did you find it?” 

Imagine little boy Zandik invoking all his courage to stand still before you while biting his lips nervously as he handed you your belongings. Your immediate shift to awe and excitement upon your found uniform was a lot. You were indeed taller than him, your mere presence made him feel like a child, stammering and shifting coyly. However, he finally muttered his name to you and explained how he found some folded uniforms mysteriously left behind. 

Imagine little boy Zandik feeling relieved when you believed him, even when you noticed that the uniform was oddly warm despite being missing. And yet you still looked at him with sincere gratitude and a warm appreciation. The boy’s lips would tug into a guileful smile when you left. He’d remember your smell from the uniform. 

Imagine little boy Zandik managing to catch you every morning in the Akademiya’s hallway. He’d always approach you, so silent yet observant, but only when you weren't surrounded by your classmates and other seniors. You thought it was a coincidence that his breaks matched yours and that he’d inadvertently stay in the same remote hallways you always preferred. He was visibly reclusive when talking, but his curiosity was palpable like his gawking red eyes. He often asked you about your interests, research, classes, and frankly anything. The young trainee Dastur never got bored of hearing you ramble and rant about ancient technology or languages; instead, the boy huddled close to you, with his legs swinging gently. 

You didn’t have to know that his break schedule did not match yours. But your inconspicuous meetings became a daily routine nonetheless. 

Imagine little boy Zandik clutching onto your uniform and asking in horror: “What do you mean you’re leaving the Akademiya?!”. You informed him that although you graduated and got your thesis approved, you refused all invitations to work as a researcher or a trainee professor at the Akademiya. It wasn’t an easy decision, and you wished to withhold that information from him, but the boy was eerily observant. He saw your signed papers and coaxed an explanation from you. 

“...I’m sorry, Zandik. I have to.” - your voice filled with as you stared down at him clutching onto you. regret 

 “You can’t just leave!” - his grip on you was not firm, but it was pleading. “You are an exceptional alumni! You could become a professor in just a few years. If you wait just a little, I’ll finish my senior classes and become a junior like you, too! And- and, in just a couple of years, I’d be a student in your courses! I’ll be your best student in class, I promise!” 

The boy begged and pressed himself onto you as if you’d vanish forever. It hurt to see him like that, it hurt to say you’d leave him. You squatted down to meet his gaze.

“Zandik, it’s all right. You’re already a top A student in your class. It’s just the circumstances that are calling to me, and I’ll have to leave Sumeru. I won't be staying to work here. I’ll… have to return to my home country.” 

“You won't even stay in Sumeru…? But your theories on ancient technologies, the ruin guards, the anthropology of the Cataclysm… a-and me - you can’t just leave it all behi-'' Znadik's lips were shut with your palm, trying to keep him at bay and not cause a scene. It took a while to shush him, and you’ve never seen him in such enraged distress.

“As much as I loved my studies and research, I… do not wish to stay in the Akademiya. This institution would not be so welcoming if I were to pursue my theories. This is not the academic career I desire.” 

Imagine little boy Zandik not understanding at the time. Why would the Akademiya not be happy with your topics of interest? What’s so wrong with learning about Khaenri'ahan technology? You’re Khaenri'ahan. What’s wrong with your thesis on the origins of cataclysms throughout Teyvat? He read them, he worships them, and you determined to leave it all behind? 

Imagine little boy Zandik concealing his choked anger as he whispered “... You would leave me behind?”. He never confessed he was the one who stole your notebooks numerous times, or how he reads your papers at night with a flashlight, or how he stole your uniform to relish your scent and imagine it was you he was holding tightly. 

He could’ve held you. He could’ve done many things if you stayed. Now his last anchor in this cursed institution was gone. 

Imagine little boy Zandik glaring daggers at a classmate named Sohreh, who blurted out once: “So what if some random alumni left the Akademiya? It’s not like their research was the most unique one… students come and go, right?” 

Imagine little boy Zandik is no more. Because after 400 years, in his place stood a dangerous man, deemed a heretic and the 2nd of the Fatui Harbingers. He would achieve great scientific length, no matter how immoral and heretical they were, all thanks to the inspiration of your works when you were young. His works in creating segments were not for naught, because his influence was used for both the Fatui’s and personal gains too. Personal, as in scavenging the corners of Teyvat and Abyss to locate you. 

Imagine Dottore finding you, after almost 400 years, instead of the little boy you once knew. Because that little boy from the Akademiya never stopped imagining you being back.

➻ A small illustration of Zandik that I did for this fic is here too :)