#dorsal root

[economicsresearch]

page 180 - my dream job, a roller skating server at a retro diner celebrating an america that has been lost or possibly never was. I was fired because I kept asking people what it was like to be trapped inside a collective national dream.

Also, missed a bunch of shifts, dropped hot fries and cold shakes on a congressman, etc.

That right there is a nice looking cake though. DAMN I love frosting.

[sleepymccoy]

My master's degree genuinely just gave me this paragraph. As a summary.

Pathways of the autonomic nervous system - the preganglionic neurons of both sympathetic and parasympathetic pathways activate ganglia (yellow ovals) using acetylcholine. Postganglionic sympathetic fibres (blue) use noradrenaline to affect their targets, whereas postganglionic parasympathetic action is again cholinergic

This is what I hate about science, it's so fucking hard to parse. I had to google like six words to get a grasp on it. For fucks sake, include definitions with new vocab! I'm paying to learn! Teach me! I'm just googling shit rn, what good is your PhD if I'm still learning from google when you're meant to teach me

[pocketseizure]

The Two Kings in Tears of the Kingdom

Tears of the Kingdom unearths the roots of Calamity Ganon in an ancient conflict between Rauru, the first king of Hyrule, and Ganondorf, a rival king who attempted to usurp him. In many ways, Rauru is characterized as a good king. He is noble, kind, and self-sacrificing, and he acts for the long-term benefit of the various groups of people living in Hyrule. In contrast to Rauru, the antagonist Ganondorf is an evil king who started a war because of his pride, ego, and greed.

Rauru and Ganondorf represent different styles of authority, both of which are grounded in Japanese fantasies of cultural identity. I’d argue that, in the end, neither king is fit to rule present-day Hyrule, which is why it’s appropriate that the game ends without any call to rebuild Hyrule Castle or the centralized government it symbolizes.

Rauru represents a golden age in Japanese culture when many arts now seen as “traditional” originated. This golden age is closely tied to Nintendo’s home city of Kyoto, which is associated with the culture of the imperial court before it moved to Tokyo in 1868. Because Tears of the Kingdom is a fantasy, the visual metaphors of Rauru’s character design are mixed, but his connection to a bygone golden age is tied to two symbols: the magatama jewels referred to as “secret stones,” and the kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the Shrines of Light and the Temple of Time.   

The “secret stones” that Rauru gives to the six sages have the distinctive comma shape of a magatama jewel, one of the three sacred symbols of Shinto. These three symbols are as follows: a mirror represents clarity of heart, a sword represents the power to protect the weak, and a jewel represents the materiality of divine blessings. These three objects also serve as the regalia of the Japanese emperor, whose role was historically to perform ritual prayers and thereby serve as a symbolic bridge between the world of humans and the world of gods.

There is nothing sacrosanct about magatama jewels; at various street fairs and tourist areas throughout Japan, you can buy inexpensive polished quartz and jade magatama to attach to phone charms or friendship bracelets. As a result of its relative ubiquity, this particular shape of gem has both a historical and a pop culture association with being a magical stone bestowed by the gods on special and worthy individuals such as, most famously, the first Japanese emperor.

Along with his magatama “secret stones,” Rauru is associated with kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the old imperial capital. Note, for instance, the front courtyard of the Temple of Time that Link visits at the beginning of the game:

The visual motif of raked white gravel punctuated by standing rocks also appears in various permutations within the Shrines of Light established by Rauru and Sonia. To give an example, this is what the player will see if they circle back behind the entrance of the “Rauru’s Blessing” shrines:

This style of dry landscape garden is frequently referred to as a “Zen garden” because of its association with large Buddhist temples in and around Kyoto. The most famous example of this style can be found at Ryōanji, in northwest Kyoto:

The philosophy of these gardens meshes well with the philosophy behind the Zelda series, which Shigeru Miyamoto has described as his attempt to create a tsuboniwa miniature garden for the player to explore. In the same way, dry landscape gardens represent a larger landscape portrayed on a much smaller scale. The rocks in the gravel are meant to represent islands on the ocean, or perhaps mountaintops rising above the clouds. Another common interpretation of these gardens – and one especially pertinent to Tears of the Kingdom – is that the rocks are the dorsal spines of a dragon swimming through the sky.   

Although dry landscape gardens have strong ties to Buddhist thought, they were primarily created by wealthy lords residing in Kyoto during the fifteenth century. This was a politically unstable era, and these lords needed to make a show of their wealth and cultural legitimacy. Unlike in China, where Chan Buddhism was largely anti-establishment, Zen Buddhism was the domain of the wealthy educated elite in Japan. Many of the rocks used in Zen-style gardens were imported from China and Korea at great expense, and lords competed to secure the services of celebrity landscape designers. Even today, the late medieval culture represented by dry landscape gardens is associated with the prestige of Japan’s former imperial capital of Kyoto.

Rauru is therefore associated with nobility and a certain air of sophistication. In the original Japanese script, he is unflaggingly polite and addresses everyone – Zelda, Ganondorf, and Link alike – with the sort of “clean” language associated with people of high social standing. To put it simply, Rauru is a perfect gentleman. He is the personification of the aristocratic virtues of the “traditional Japan” of the late fifteenth century, during which the wealthy filled the capital city with gardens while countless wars ravaged the countryside.    

In contrast, Ganondorf is a personification of the warrior culture of eastern Japan, especially as it was exemplified by the warlords who competed for territory outside the capital before the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate at the beginning of the seventeenth century.

Oda Nobunaga was the most notorious of these warlords. He was infamous for being aggressive but effective, and his military prowess and ruthless tactics have been memorialized in a wealth of stories whose lineage stretches to the video games of the present day. I believe that Nobunaga (or, at least, a commonly fictionalized version of him) served as a model for Ganondorf, who seeks to take advantage of the instability of the newly established kingdom of Hyrule in order to expand his own territory.

Like Rauru, Ganondorf’s character design contains mixed visual metaphors, but I think it’s fair to say that his topknot and costume are meant to evoke a samurai who has thrown off the kimono sleeve covering his sword arm as an indication of his readiness for battle. This is a style still worn by practitioners of Japanese fencing and archery, which are common extracurricular activities in many high schools. Appropriately, Ganondorf fights with a tachi katana, a naginata spear, and the body-length longbow used in kyūdō archery – all weapons associated with the martial arts of Japan’s medieval military elite.

As if to cement his connection to Nobunaga, Ganondorf speaks in period-drama “samurai Japanese” that demonstrates neither the elegance nor the poetry of his incarnations in previous games. He seems to lack both regret and awareness of the consequences of his actions, and he is concerned primarily with hierarchy, conquest, and the thrill of battle.  

As was arguably the case for Nobunaga himself, there is no endgame for Ganondorf, only scorched earth. Ganondorf has absolute faith in his own power, and he views other people only as subordinates or enemies. According to his value system, there is no merit in compromise; he simply takes it for granted that he will win.

It makes sense that the aggressively bloodthirsty Ganondorf is a villain, but it’s important to understand that Rauru is not a hero. With all his magic and culture and imperial splendor, Rauru failed to understand that the system of power he created could easily be turned against him. A nation politically defined by a central authority whose rule is justified through military conquest and the cultural chauvinism of “ancient tradition” is not sustainable, and the legacy of such a kingdom can only be tears.

This is why Hyrule Castle remains in ruins at the end of Tears of the Kingdom, and this is why the game’s central hub is a research station populated with people from all over the world. This is why Zelda doesn’t attempt to re-establish Hyrule as a kingdom, and this is why it’s so important to her to understand the reality behind the myth of the nation’s history. This is also why the grand mythology of Hyrule’s origin is far less important to the player’s experience of the game than individual acts of community building. The highlights of Tears of the Kingdom are Link’s work in facilitating a local election in Hateno, helping Lurelin recover from a disaster, and volunteering in towns facing environmental issues such as water pollution and climate change.

Both Rauru and Ganondorf are compelling in their own ways, but it’s thematically satisfying that both characters are gone at the end of the game. When Zelda meets with the regional leaders of Hyrule during the closing cutscene, they promise each other that they will work together to ensure a lasting peace that neither of the two kings made possible. The legacy of the past still affects Hyrule, but Tears of the Kingdom suggests that it’s the duty of the younger generation to understand where this legacy came from in order to avoid the mistakes of their ancestors and move forward in a more hopeful direction.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wed Beast Wednesday: Mudskippers

For this Wet Beast Wednesday I want to go over a fish that seems to have forgotten it's a fish: the mudskipper. Mudskippers are amphibious fish that are just as comfortable on land as they are in the water. Mudskippers are classified as gobies but goby taxonomy turns out to be weirdly complicated and there's not a clear consensus of what clade constitutes a goby. Mudskippers are members of the subfamily Oxudercinae and consist of at least 23 species, with some sources list up to 43 species. Not all members of Oxurdercinae are considered mudskippers, only those who live a partially terrestrial lifestyle. Mudskippers live in tropical to temperate regions throughout the Pacific, Indian and Atlantic oceans.

(image id: a mudskipper sitting on a branch just above the surface of the water. It is a long, skinny fish with a large head and two large eyes positioned on the top of its head. Its pectoral fins are large and its dorsal fins are folded up. The tail fin is submerged and not easily visible. It is mostly light brown, but has a black stripe going down the body and small, blue speckles all over.)

Mudskippers have a fairly standard goby body plan, but with adaptations to support their terrestrial lifestyles. The most important adaptations for a fish that wants to live on land is to develop an ability to oxygenate themselves without continuously passing water over the gills. Mudskippers have developed two ways to breathe out of water. The first is with their gills. The gill pouch can be sealed off, trapping a bubble of water inside, keeping their gills continuously in contact with water. The gill filaments are also stiffer than in most fish and do not coalesce with each other if they dry out. In addition, the skin, mouth, and throat can absorb oxygen with the help of many small blood vessels, but must be wet to do so. Mudskippers spend up to 3/4th of their time on land, but will die if they dry out. They live mostly in the intertidal zone, primarily on mangrove forests and mud flats, where they have access to water but also plenty of room to move and hunt on land. To assist in moving on land, the pectoral fins have evolved into pseudo-feet. The fins of most ray-finned fish are simple, consisting of a group of inflexible fin rays attached to the body that can be moved (individually in some species) by muscles in the body. Mudskippers have their fin rays jointed part way through and again at the connection to the body. This creates a "shoulder" and "elbow" joint in the fins, giving them greater strength and flexibility. Mudskippers can drag themselves along with their pectoral fins in a skipping motion, which is the source of their common name. Some species can use their pectoral fins to climb on mangrove roots or other exposed plants and rocks. Mudskippers are also adept jumpers. By rapidly folding and extending their tails, mudskippers can leap up to 61 cm (24 in). This is used primarily to escape predators and for display purposes, but may also be used to leap onto higher vantage points. Mudskipper eyes are also special. They are located very high on the head and protrude quite a bit from the body. This eye position gives the mudskipper a very wide range of vision and allows them to bury themselves in mud, only leaving the eyes exposed. Mudskippers can also blink, something other fish cannot do. To blink, a mudskipper will retract an eye into its body while a membrane called a dermal cup rises to cover the eye. Blinking allows the mudskipper to clean its eyes and keep them moist on land. Mudskippers are small fish, with the largest species (Periophthalmodon schlosseri, the giant mudskipper) getting to about 28 cm (11 in) long.

(image id: two mudskippers sitting on sand. one has its front end eld up by its pectoral fins and its mouth partially open. This one's dorsal fins are extended, which run down the body. The other one is lying flat had has its both closed and its dorsal fins folded down. They are light brown with dark stripes. The dorsal fin has many blue dots)

Mudskippers build burrows using their fins and mouths. These burrows are used for shelter and for mating. Most burrows will have their oepning exposed during low tide but will flood during high tide. A chamber in the burrow holds a pocket of air even when flooded. This allows the mudskipper to breathe even if the water is low in oxygen, though it must periodically bring in mouthfuls of air to refresh the pocket. During mating season, males will build burrows. after the burrow is completed, he will come out and start competing for mates. Competitions involve jumping, with the make who can jump the highest attracting the most females. Sometimes mudskipper will fight over territory, though males are especially prone to fighting during mating season. Fights consist of the fish demonstrating at each other with open mouths and raised dorsal fins. During fights, they will also vocalize at each other, with the one who can string together the most vocalizations being the winner. How mudskippers vocalize is still a mystery. Most fish who make sound do so with their swim bladders, but mudskippers don't have swim bladders. Once a female picks a male to mate with they will return to his burrow, where she lays eggs and he fertilizes them. The female departs afterwards, leaving the male to care for the eggs. He will guard the burrow against predators and bring air in to keep the eggs oxygenated until they hatch.

(image id: a mudskipper mid-jump. Its fins are all extended and its body is covered in blue spots)

(image id: two mudskippers fighting. They are facing each other with mouths open, heads pointing up, and fins fully extended)

The majority of mudskipper species are carnivores, though some have transitioned to being detritivores. They hunt invertebrates including worms, insects, and crabs, and some species are cannibalistic. They can hunt both on land and in water, but are more effective at land hunting. When in water, mudskippers use the same suction feeding method that most predatory fish use. When on land, mudskippers use a different method. They carry water in their mouths and chase after prey. When positioned over their prey, the mudskipper will spit some of the water out, allowing it to cover the other animal. It then sucks the water back in, carrying the prey with it. The suction also help propel the prey to the throat, which is useful because mudskippers lack tongues to push their food back.

(image id: a mudskipper in its burrow.The entrance to the burrow is raised above the ground and made of sand. Only the mudskipper's head is visible)

Mudskippers are useful to science in a few ways. They are useful as bio-indicator for the health of their environments. Breathing through your skin is a double-edged sword. It lets you oxygenate on land, but also makes it easier for harmful chemicals to enter the body. Dissection of certain organs allows for testing of environmental chemical levels. Passive observation can also provide data on environmental health. Mudskippers are also used as a model organism for scientists studying the transition of vertebrates to land. While the fish that colonized land were lobe-finned fish as opposed to the ray-finned mudskippers, they can still provide clues to the adaptations and lifestyle of the earliest tetrapods. Outside of science, mudskippers are used for food and as pets. The different species had different classifications by the IUCN ranging from least concern to critically endangered. Their main threats are pollution, habitat loss, and overfishing.

(image id: two mudskipper facing the camera with their mouths open)

[feather-bone]

Blue morpho butterfly. They’re one of the largest butterflies with a wingspan around 12cm. Its dorsal (top) side is bright iridescent blue, and its ventral (bottom) side is dull brown, with round eye-shaped markings called eyespots. These markings can help confuse the butterfly’s predators into leaving it alone. :-)

[ID: an illustration of a blue butterfly, surrounded by red ginger root flowers and leaves. It is on a yellow-orange background. End.]

[lifewithchronicpain]

About 16 million people in the United States have Long Covid, a poorly understood disorder that causes body aches, headaches, fatigue, insomnia, brain fog and other symptoms long after an initial infection with COVID-19. For some, the symptoms are mild, but for other they are so severe they become disabling.

Why do some people quickly recover from Covid, while about one in five have lingering symptoms?

A new animal study found that thousands of genes involved in nervous system function are affected by SARS-CoV-2, and may cause lasting damage to dorsal root ganglia, the spinal nerves that carry pain and other sensory messages to the brain. Scientists believe that genetic damage may be what causes Long Covid.

“Several studies have found that a high proportion of Long Covid patients suffer from abnormal perception of touch, pressure, temperature, pain or tingling throughout the body. Our work suggests that SARS-CoV-2 might induce lasting pain in a rather unique way, emphasizing the need for therapeutics that target molecular pathways specific to this virus,” explains co-author Venetia Zachariou, PhD, chair of pharmacology, physiology & biophysics at Boston University’s Chobanian & Avedisian School of Medicine. (Read more at link)

[hopefuladdictions]

Hopey. Make. References.

For Siren AU Renkaza that you and Kaz are writing. Illustrate the lads. You must. I implore you. I MUST KNOW. Even if they're very sloppy guidelines. I need the refs. Don't ask me why. Specifically color/pattern placement on Kyo and what his frills look like and then if Hakuji's eyelashes were left pale like in canon or they're pink now like his hair in your AU.

I have some doodles already if you'd like to see them 😭😭 I'm very torn on how to convey kyos coloring so thats stumped me a bit !

Alright so here is a little doodle of what I was playing with!

ID LIKE TO POINT OUT ! THAT THIS IS NOT LIKE. CONFIRMED WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE YET! IM PLAYING AROUND WITH IT! I want his frills to be a mix of black and dark red to sort of break up all the orange and yellow that he has going on, I think it'll offer nice contrast. For his scales I obviously gotta do Flame colors! But I was thinking of throwing in random black scales as a nod to his mother! Sirens tend to be a bit more colorful so its rare to have like. All black scales. So I like to think ruka was very special and beautiful looking for having that! Some maroon and black...mmmm. anyways! I think kyo should have some sprinkled around ! Kyo needs to have his big bug eyes ofc. Hakuji notices that kyo doesn't seem to blink alot and kyo was like, this human...something is off about the eyes (no extra eyelid) and they blink frequently. How odd. Anyways, as far as patterns and what the coloring looks like DRAWN? Still figuring that out !

As far as tail shape I think I like this last one the best? Kind of a nod to the Flame haori but not TOO much ya know? Kyo is very large and very long and I also am playing around with other fin placements! Like on his hips, down the sides of his tail, he has spines on his back, like, dorsal shit going on, but how far down does it go? Are the fins more flowy or sharp? RAHHH still figuring it out !

As far as hakuji goes, he looks like he would in Canon but he dyes his hair pink. This makes a very. Interesting (read: frustrating to look at) color pallete for his face. I know in my heart of hearts this guy does not give a fuck about dying his eyebrows. So he has pink hair (roots showing but I don't know how to convey that on his short hair) (he will re dye it soon, TRUST) and black eyebrows, plus the light eyelashes and those damn blue eyes 😭😭😭 he has three arm band tattoos but thats about it in terms of his Canon markings ? He also has several piercings. An eyebrow, tongue, and several in his ears!

This is all I have in terms of doodles, but TRUST !!! I WILL WORK ON IT MORE AND TRY TO FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT!!! Kaz is absolutely NO help 😒 just tells me "whatever you prefer or like the best !!" Smh.

[typhlonectes]

New Cretaceous neosuchians (Crocodylomorpha) from Thailand bridge the evolutionary history of atoposaurids and paralligatorids

Yohan Pochat-Cottilloux, Komsorn Lauprasert, Phornphen Chanthasit, Sita Manitkoon, Jérôme Adrien, Joël Lachambre, Romain Amiot, Jeremy E Martin

Abstract

The origin of modern crocodylians is rooted in the Cretaceous, but their evolutionary history is obscure because the relationships of outgroups and transitional forms are poorly resolved. Here, we describe a new form, Varanosuchus sakonnakhonensis gen. nov., sp. nov., from the Early Cretaceous of Thailand that fills an evolutionary gap between Paralligatoridae and Atoposauridae, two derived neosuchian lineages with previously unsettled phylogenetic relationships. Three individuals, including a complete skull and associated postcranial remains, allow for a detailed description and phylogenetic analysis. The new taxon is distinguished from all other crocodylomorphs by an association of features, including a narrow altirostral morphology, a dorsal part of the postorbital with an anterolaterally facing edge, a depression on the posterolateral surface of the maxilla, and fully pterygoid-bound choanae. A phylogenetic analysis confirms the monophyly and taxonomic content of Atoposauridae and Paralligatoridae, and we underline the difficulty in reaching a robust definition of Eusuchia. Furthermore, we put forward further arguments related to the putative terrestrial ecology with semi-aquatic affinities of atoposaurids based on their altirostral snout morphology and osteoderm ornamentation.

Read the paper here:

https://academic.oup.com/zoolinnean/advance-article-abstract/doi/10.1093/zoolinnean/zlad195/7513556

[economicsresearch]

page 180 - is that a fish? Are those fishes?

I can hear a sound that can only be described as flopping about, but I can’t see anything.

Maybe there’s an underground river that is finally re-emerging, soon to fill the cell and drown all the creatures that live herein.

How many creatures live here, and do I count my surviving gut biome individually?

What does a bat taste like?

[asheanon]

🤔

I am now... having thoughts about giving my merfolk some peculiar new features - the most notable one here being unicorn-like horns (or narwhal-like, to be fair - still aquatic!)

For those who don't know, my mer-guys have some unicorn + selkie lore infused into their genetic makeup...

They're able to shift between a proper mer-form and more human-like form (that still retains a few mer-features) and this ability, currently, is rooted to a portion of their dorsal fins.

This part!

These fins (or these parts of them) act like, well, like a unicorn horn - it's where all the "magic" a.k.a the ability to shift between forms is stored and should it be removed, the "magic" is lost in turn, trapping them in one form or the other. And these fins/"horns" may or may not be able to regenerate, depending on the damage and other genetics in play - which can make for some sad, yet interesting tales for some of these mer-fellas. 💙

🤔 It's still a cool idea that I dig, but at the same time, I've been thinking... it might be kind of cool to just straight up give them horns that operate that way vs. the fins. It's not as original, and yet, to apply it to merfolk may or may not be a lesser seen application of the thing.

What do y'all think? Unicorn merfolk or "uh, no-corn" merfolk? 🦄🧜‍♀️

[chicagoneuropain]

Dr. Michael Rock, MD is a Pain Medicine Physician and Anesthesiologist at Chicago Institute for Neuropathic Pain.

[septnautical]

Hybrid Creation Logs

SH-003

——————————

Notes from observation of stalker human hybrid SH-003 from Dr. Kendra Danan:  10-21-2228 SH-003 is showing signs of very high intelligence and is already picking up language despite his mental age. The other hybrids did not show this much absorption of knowledge at the same stage. However, he seems to have attached himself to Dr. Peter von Schneeplestein, a visitor from the Teuton Alteran branch, who still have ties to their ancient German roots- keeping that fascinating culture alive, much like the Mongolians from Torgal. Which means- SH-003 has caught a slight jumbled accent and has found a preference for using German sayings. Much like how SE-002 has a slight Irish accent thanks to constant interaction with Dr. Xander. A strange phenomenon to be sure but… fascinating. And adorable…  Oh and he’s quite popular with the other scientists. Mostly because a mutation caused his body to be more white and his underbelly to be more aqua. Peter squealed to everyone that he looked like he was wearing a white coat like us- and now I can’t un-see it!  Also, it’s evident that SH-003 had some sight issues. He seems to be near-sighted and accommodations have been made- including specially goggles for him to wear. You’d think being genetically modified would rectify such an ailment but it must be passed down from Mcloughlin’s genes.  I think he’s nearing the age where we first introduced SE-002 to RR-001. And the results of their integration have been wildly successful. Both boys are more lively than ever before. I am worried about introducing a predator to two pacifists but… SH-003 seems to be on the gentler side as well. Really, he only showed true signs of predator-like aggression during his first two weeks and when he feels threatened. Perhaps, they will all get along?  However, his near twin subject SD-004 is a different story entirely… 

——————-

“CHASEEEE!!” 

The rabbit Ray merman was awoken by Jack practically bouncing on where his stomach met his tail. He groaned and try to hide his face under one of his wings. “What? Can’t I sleep in a little longer?” Chase yawned. 

“Not today!” Jack protested, slapping his hands down on Chase’s side. “The white suits said we’re meeting the new hybrid today!! So you gotta get up!! C’mon!!” 

Chase groaned again and flopped over to hide his face in the sand. “5 more minutes…” 

“Chaseee!!” Jack whined, flopping onto the older hybrid’s back. He curls some of his tails around Chase’s tail and mumbles, “Aren’t you excited to meet a new brother?” 

“Course I am,” Chase muttered back, cheek pressed into the sand. “I just wanna be more awake when we meet him is all-“

“You’ll sleep most of the morning if I don’t wake you!” Jack protests. 

Chase chuckles, “s’not my fault the sand is warm and cozy…” He then flips over quickly and grabs Jack, pinning him in a hug against his stomach. “C’mon…! Don’t you wanna cuddle a bit longer with your big bro, Jack?” 

Jack screeches and squirmed in Chase’s hold, “Nooo! You’re squishing me! Chaseee!!” 

They both suddenly freeze as they hear the sound of a hatch opening and something new entering the water. A cautious voice calls out, “um… h-hallo?” 

Jack squeals in delight and hits multiple of his tails in Chase’s face, making the older boy cry out and rub at it  as the younger brother speeds through the water towards the voice. 

In the open water is a tiny merman with a white and aqua tail. He has light green hair like sea moss and purple stripes along his tail and even on his arms. His tail fin is big and wide and he has several large dorsal fins running up his back. And, he has goggles on, which surround the same blue eyes Chase and Jack had. Those eyes look out shyly as he holds his arms tight to his middle. 

Jack gasps in delight at seeing the new hybrid. “Oh my stars…! A stalker!! You’re so tiny!!” 

The new hybrid startles at the new voice and looks at Jack with wide eyes. “Oh uh- h-hallo and uh… t-thank you, I suppose…?” 

Chase soon swims up beside Jack and laughs. “He’s about the size you were when you first got here, Jack!” 

“Aw really? I guess I must be growing a lot!” Jack giggles. Chase ruffles his hair then smiles at the new hybrid. “Hi there. I’m Chase and this is Jack- what are you called?” 

The stalker hybrid nervously messes with his fingers. “Oh uh… mein name is SH-3…” 

“Why do you talk like that?” Jack suddenly pipes up, tilting his head at SH. 

SH’s mood shifts quickly as he scowls and flicks his tail in agitation, “why do you talk like that?” He counters with a huff. 

Chase holds up his hands with a nervous laugh, “J-Jack didn’t mean anything by it! We just… haven’t heard anyone talk like you much… maybe some of the other doctors… but not much.” 

“We gotta give you a name that matches!” Jack says excitedly. 

“W-What do you mean?” SH stammers, “I already have a name! It is-“ 

“No no! That one doesn’t count!” Jack emphasizes, “You need a name like the white suits! Something that doesn’t make us sound like- like an es… esperimint-“ 

“Experiment, Jack…” Chase provides gently. Jack nods eagerly, “yeah that! We’re more than just that- we should get names that are more than just letters and numbers!!” 

SH seems to contemplate this before he slowly nods. “Mmm… o-okay… I… I think I would like that…” 

“Great!” Jack says excitedly, his tails twirling to show it. Then he hums and looks at SH with a critical eye. The tiny merman squirms a bit under the gaze. Finally, Jack pipes up with, “I’m getting a couple names from you! Guess it’s other white suits you know- like… Fitz! Orrr Nikolai? Or hm… Henrik?”

Chase perks up at this and smiles, “He seems like a Henrik, not gonna lie.” 

SH’s eyes roll and he scoffs, crossing his arms. “Please… those are all ridiculous names! If you’re gonna use the scientists' names you might as well call me… H-Henrik von Schneeplestein or something!” He grumbles, thinking of Dr. Peter. Though, he had to admit… thinking of sharing a name with him almost made SH feel… warm?

Jack and Chase exchange looks before the two of them grin at SH. “We could call you Schneep!” Jack says mischievously. Chase giggles and nods, “Yeah I like that!” 

SH quickly flushes and looks away with raised shoulders, “…please just… stick with Henrik… I suppose I… like that.” 

“Aww but Schneep is fun to say!” Jack giggles and starts to float around the stalker mer, “Schneep! Schneep! Schneep! Schneeep!!” 

Chase laughs and pulls Jack back after a bit, “Alright, little bro- give him some space!” 

Henrik seems to perk up at this, “…bro? What does this mean?”

The rabbit Ray blinks, “Oh! Short for brother! Cuz… that’s what we all are, you know?”

Henrik’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, “…we are? I thought brothers were ah… human. Human family members.” 

Jack snorts and then goes to grab Henrik’s hands in his. “We are brothers though! Cuz- cuz Xander says we all have the same human DNS-“ 

“DNA, Jack-“ Chase snickers. 

“Oh yeah! DNA! And he says that makes us related! Even if our fish parts are different!” Jack beams. “So now! You’re our new little brother, Henrik!” 

The stalker merman’s eyes seem to sparkle as he slowly goes to grip Jack’s hands back. He smiles, “O…okay… brothers. Yes I… I think I would like that…” 

Jack and Chase beam and then bring Schneep in for a hug. Henrik stiffens a bit but soon finds himself laughing and enjoying the contact. They were so warm. 

Jack soon grabs Henrik and leads them all off to go play. Henrik seems to have trouble keeping up with their energy- since he liked to spend a lot of his time in his own tank watching the education videos the white suits gave him. But, he tries his best. 

Soon enough, the lights dim and the boys all start to head towards their sleeping area. Henrik is being led by Jack but seems… nervous. He always felt strange at night. More… angry. But he didn’t know why. 

Chase flops into the little nest Jack and him have made- filled with soft kelp, writhing weeds, violet beaus red wort and spotted dock leaves. All hidden amongst the tall creepvines that surrounded the edge of the tank. There’s a small indent in the sand that is clearly made from how Chase curls up in his spot, yawning loudly. Jack laughs and then rushes at Chase and flops onto his side. Chase seems to anticipate this though as he opens up his arm without opening his eyes as Jack eagerly curls around under Chase’s wing. The older merman squints open an eye, looking at how Jack’s tails hardly fit anymore and chuckles. “You’re almost too big to keep hiding under there, Jackaboy-“ 

Jack sticks his tongue out at Chase and scoots back so his head is lifting up the edge of his wing like a floppy hat. “Too bad! Your wing is too comfy! I’m never leaving!” Chase just laughs and shakes his head. 

Henrik hovers anxiously at the edge of the space, unsure if he should join or not. His nerves feel like they’re on fire. 

Lost in his train of thought, he doesn’t notice Jack lashing out a hand to grab his fin and try to pull him in until he feels the tug. “C’mon Schneep! Join the pile!”

“Do not touch me!” Henrik suddenly hisses, his teeth looking sharper and his pupils turning more slitted. Jack gasps and shudders under Chase’s fin, looking scared. “Ah I… I’m sorry! I…” 

Henrik’s face falls and he scoots back, all aggression fading. He looks equally as scared as he stammers, “I-I… I will go s-sleep somewhere else… g-goodnight!” And then, in a flurry of bubbles, he spurs quickly away from the other two to the other side of the tank. 

Chase lifts up his head and looks concerned. He quickly turns over to hug Jack to his chest and wrap him up in his wings. 

“I… I didn’t mean to make him mad I…” Jack sniffles. Chase gently shushes him. “It’s okay, Jack… this is all probably a lot for him…” 

Jack rubs at his eyes and looks over to where Henrik swam off. “…I don’t think he meant it either… he looked scared.” 

“He’s probably not used to being around other people… you were a lot for me to get used to when you first got here.” Chase tries to laugh. Jack rests his head on Chase’s chest and hums, thinking. “… maybe he just… misses his old tank? But… isn’t that lonely?”

“Maybe… sometimes people like being alone. I don’t get it but… maybe Henrik is like that.” Chase answers quietly. 

Suddenly, there’s a quiet knock on the glass next to the boys and they both startle up. There’s a man at the window, one they don’t recognize, with goggles like Henrik’s and brighter brown-blond curly hair. He smiles at the boys and then points to the hatch nearby. Chase narrows his eyes but then scoops up Jack to go over to the hatch. The scientist opens it up and hangs in the open air part, fidgeting nervously, “Ah I am- sorry to intrude. I hope I did not wake you two…” 

“You talk just like Henrik!” Jack gasps in delight. The doctor blinks and then laughs with a soft, kind expression. “Oh? Did you give a name to SH then? Ha… that is very fitting.. I do not know why I did not think of it…” 

“The letter names are icky- we don’t like them,” Jack said plainly. The doctor laughs, “I can agree with that. Perhaps I can learn all of yours in time… You all can call me Peter though… Dr. Peter. I ah- watch over SH- …Henrik.” 

“We don’t gotta wait till later! I’m Jack and this is Chase!” Jack said brightly, patting Chase on the chest. Chase smiles shyly. “Hi… Dr. Peter. nice to meet you.” 

Dr. Peter smiles warmly, “it is a pleasure… those names all suit you wonderfully…” 

“What do you want? Did you need to see Schneep?” Jack asks plainly. 

Peter’s eyes widen, “…Schneep?”

“Oh- that’s the other name I wanna call him. He said a long name from another doctor like… schneeple-eplestein… I like how Schneep sounded though so I wanna call him that too! He tries to act like he doesn’t like it but I can tell he does.” Jack answers. 

The white suit looks surprisingly touched and smiles even more warmly at the boys. “I see… well… I did come because of S-Schneep, yes.” He pulls something out from his pocket and places it in the water part of the hatch. It’s a well worn piece of scrap metal, with various teeth marks and scratches on its surface. “…He can get very bitey and snippy at night… but I know having this helps him calm down enough to sleep. I was worried he would be missing it…” 

Chase and Jack’s eyes widen as they look at the scrap then back up at Peter. Chase smiles and gives the doctor a meaningful look. “…you really care about him, huh?” 

Peter’s face flushes and he adjusts his glasses. “I mean… I… I suppose I do but… how could I not? You all are… human too. More human than fish- you are just… children. You all need that care, ja?” He laughs. 

Jack giggles and quickly goes to grab the scrap. “We’ll give it to Henrik right away! Thank you, Dr. Peter. Come visit him a lot, okay?” As he says this- he feels a tight tug in his chest. When was the last time he really got to see Xander…? 

Peter chuckles and nods. “I will… and I will uh- be seeing you boys around then? Ah… be sleeping tight, okay?” He says a bit awkwardly before closing the hatch. He stiffly waves to the boys before hurrying out. 

“…I like him!” Jack grins. Chase laughs and adjusts Jack in his arms. “yeah- I like him too. It’ll be nice to have a new face around.” 

“Yeah like- Dr. Goodall is nice and all but… he’s funny. And I really think he cares.” 

“Hey! Dr. Goodall cares…” Chase tries to protest. 

“Yeah but… he feels different. Dunno why…” Jack says with a shrug. Then he squirms out of Chase’s grip and swims up, holding the scrap. “I’m gonna go find Schneep! Be right back!” 

Then, he rockets off before Chase can protest or try to follow. He would but… Jack was better at finding things then he was. And he’s so sleepy. He yawns and slowly floats back down into their nest. 

Jack swims around to look for Henrik- finally hearing or… feeling him inside another collection of creepvines on the opposite side of the tank. He pushes aside the leaves and shouts out excitedly, “Henrik! Look wh-!” 

He then pauses as he sees and smells blood in the water. Jack gasps as he looks down to see Henrik curled up into a ball, digging sharp looking claws into his arms and drawing out orange blood. 

“H-Hey! Henrik, stop that!” Jack shouts as he spurs down and tries to pull Henrik’s hands away from his arms. Henrik growls and lashes out, striking claws across Jack’s cheek. “I said do not touch me!” Henrik screeches, then balks as he sees the orange curling off of Jack’s cheek into the water. Jack touches the cuts thoughtfully and looks at his hand. “…that hurt… huh- haven’t really gotten hurt before…” 

“I-I-! I am so sorry I…!” Henrik stammers, tears in his eyes as his little body shakes. He hugs his arms close to his chest. “I-I did not mean to… I- y-you scared me and…!” 

Jack quickly swims down and holds out his hands. “Hey hey it’s okay! I can tell you didn’t want to… your head is all jumbled up right now…” 

Henrik stares at Jack with wide eyes. “I… y-yes I… how did you know…?”

Jack shrugs, “I hear lots of things from people without really knowing why or how. Maybe it’s something I’ll understand when I’m older. Point is though, I can tell you don’t wanna hurt people.” 

Henrik slowly nods and curls up more. “…I do not want to… but at night I just… f-feel so angry and I… I do not know why…!”

“Well… if it helps… Dr. Peter came by to give you something…” Jack says gently, going to pass the scrap over to Henrik. The stalker’s eyes light up and he quickly takes the scrap and goes to hold it tightly, claws digging in and tail wrapped around it protectively. Jack laughs, “you really like that thing, huh?”

The tinier merman looks away, cheeks flushing slightly. “…I do not hurt my doctors if I have this at night… and it… it makes me feel safe…” 

“That’s good!” Jack says brightly. “We don’t want our new brother to sleep all alone though! Come on- you can hold that and sleep on your own but at least stay by the nest, okay?” 

Jack offers his hand to Henrik and the stalker mer stares at it for a second before he slowly goes to take it, letting Jack pull him back up in the water. “I… I’m… o-okay…” 

The two of them swim back to the nest where Chase is peacefully dozing. He blinks open his eyes and smiles dazedly at them, “Hey guys-“ then quickly sits up, his eyes going wide. “Stars-! Is that blood?!” 

“Oh yeah but uh- we’re okay!” Jack tries to say calmly as Henrik huddles behind him, his tail trembling a bit. 

Chase swims up and brings them over to sit down on the sand then surges up to grab a couple creepvines leaves. He hurries down and hands one to Jack. “Press that against your cheek.” He says gently. 

Jack blinks and does so. 

Then, Chase goes to take Henrik’s arm but the little merman flinches back and looks scared. Chase smiles softly. “It’s okay… I won’t hurt you.” 

“I… I am afraid of hurting you-“ Henrik whispers. 

Chase laughs and shakes his head. “If you do it’s okay… this is kinda scary. But us brothers gotta stick together, right?” 

Henrik’s eyes widen and then he smiles a bit. He shyly offers his arm to Chase. “..r-right…” Chase beams and takes his arm, going to wrap up the puncture wounds with the leaves and tying them off. 

“Where did ya learn to do this, Chase?” Jack asks. 

“Oh- an informational video about how to survive on the planet from someone who lived here a long time ago.” Chase says casually. “Dr. Goodall says one day we might get to actually go out into the ocean so… figured it’s good to know.” 

Henrik’s eyes sparkle. “oh… I would like to watch that! I… I want to learn to help too! Not.. not to hurt…” 

Chase smiles and ruffles Henrik’s hair. “Sure! I’ll see if we can watch it in the morning! For now though? I’m bushed!” He floats back over to the nest and flops into it, sighing contently. 

Jack checks to make sure his cheek isn’t bleeding anymore then speeds back over and bounces on Chase’s stomach beside settling into place. Chase oofs and glares a bit at Jack before snorting and rolling over. Jack giggles. 

Henrik hesitates, holding his scrap close to his chest. Then, he slowly floats over and then inches his tail to slowly bump up against Chase’s and curl against him. Oh… that contact feels… really nice actually. Henrik seems to get very comfortable very fast, his eyes struggling to stay open. Jack is already breathing softly curled up against Chase’s side, clutching into his wing. 

Chase watches with a smile. “Night, lil bros.”

[perlen-gold]

A m!Hawke x Fenris Story (finished) ~ WARNING ~

This might not be an easy read. This is not a comfortable story. Neither a sweet one.

This is rough. This is vivid.  This is raw.

But if you're brave enough to dare the leap and reach into the darkness, it might be worth the plunge...

Fenris stood on the wind-gushed ledge of the roof, balancing his legs, the toes of his right foot dangling over the edge. The roof  poured into a steep slant that bent his left knee in a nigh square angel.

The storm that had ravaged the sky all day had wiped its vault clean like a freshly watered riverbed, all mists and grays gone with its furious and ferocious cries but for a few straggling lithe-luminous wisps.  Behind them the horizon gleamed with pale plum and fig purple at the cusp, the day’s rim aglow with a last fierce brim of bright gold as of peaches and grapefruits melting to spill out of a gilded urn.

Slowly, his heart dripping in a steady rhythm borne on his breath, Fenris leant forward. When he looked down the estate’s walls, his eyes could trail the alleyway winding up to the front gate.

Fenris had once been a swift climber, sure-footed, his bare feet seeking crooks, and crevices finding his scraping fingers in secreted hollows. In his mind was no remembrance of attaining this skill – nevertheless, part of him remembered it all the same, in the long hours of aquiver waiting, in the fruitless days waning in Hightown’s labyrinth of grays. High, auburn-tasting branches. A barefooted whiff of mahogany. Beneath his skin, a savor of cedar.

There were no trees worth practicing in Hightown. Around Kirkwall and her dorsal zigzag pattern of serrated shores and haphazard cliffs  there were no trees to speak of, really. Fenris did not enjoy pervading the forest near the abandoned Dalish camp either. There, too, he found the woods and its trees inadequate – splinter-twiggy and evergreenish, with needle-clinging roots, puny, mere shrubbery only half alive in comparison to the giants he once had climbed.

Vast crowns. Massive boughs the size of a grown man’s body. Long, wide-fingered leaves in all imaginable shades of green, dripping with moisture and water beads pouring golden sunlight into the shades above slinking roots like mossy-soft mountains behind which a Qunari Karasaad could hide his horns as well as approach.

So, here, Fenris crested Hightown. Her walls were smoothly built, each stone set well-nigh perfectly onto the other. It was magic that had once merged them sans the fallible fingers of an enslaved hand which had trembled placing them beforehand.  Fenris’ own hands could feel it as soon as he attempted to start climbing them. But they were old now, these walls. In his skin, the aquamarine blue hummed quietly with both the magic and sweat within them. It was hard work, at first. His elbows, knees and shoulders still sighed with these first attempts.

On the fifth day, a voice coiled up to him.

He did not know how she had found out he was back. Perhaps rumors grew rampant about him still, and faster still than he would have favored. Perhaps, she had simply talked with Aveline or met Donnic.

One morning, a small crown of flowers, daisies, snow-dabbed, had been placed outside the estate’s outer gate. He had stepped on it, then, after a startled glance, picked them slowly from his feet’s skin, blossom for blossom. When he came back at midday there was another coronal of daisies the next day, the flowers twinkling slightly misshapen, blooming exactly where the first had been. Fenris ignored this one, too. Upon his return in the evening on the third day he had found no daisies but the end of a woolen, dandelion yellow yarn. Meanderingly, it sidled away into the dark.

Overshadowed brumal houses and umbrageous faces.

Fenris still disliked the Alienage cowering between Kirkwall’s more important vitals, in spite of the endless times he had wrought through it in the years past. He had not been exactly sure, after striding over ash-old bones, dark-stained rubble on splattered cobble stones, the scars of a city nearly crumbling under the echo of its last war, how or why his bare feet had sought out their way to its steep stairs.

And yet, here Fenris had found himself on the upmost stair, looking down.

Sun-spilling lights illuminated the dusky twilight clustering in the corners like whirring fireflies a blackened wheat field at night.

Fenris could move along with shades and shadows if he wished, shed his conspicuous appearance as a snake its skin, almost entirely, and this was how he watched the elves move about down in the alienage.

Towering in the center like a scarlet-painted sentinel was the broad-chested oak tree. As truly fond of trees Fenris was he favored them reigning  and breathing out forests instead of rising surrounded by shabby  dwellings. Constantly stretching high, sky-high, empyrean-high for freedom.

The mighty oak tree was encircled by the elves of the Alienage in their dilapidated clothes and innumerable candles in a circle around it they were placing. A gold-glimmering modicum of stars come alive below the cloud-strung sky. The elves, humming softly to themselves. A rippling pond of wavering lights. Old and young, elders and children.

Warily, Fenris watched them and quietly wondered to himself, about such wastefulness when wax and light could come short so easily, these days.

When he stepped out of the pooling darkness less gazes flew at him than he usually expected to. Small twigs and rubble girded creakingly under his naked feet as he walked past them. To Fenris, there was less debris here than that which he had climbed over in the rest of the city. The lights, however, brightened the waking night in a great arch around him.

Inside, he found Merrill situating one single beeswax-yellow candle right in the center of her ragged pine table. He could smell the nigh-forgotten scent of it lingering in her small room.

The table was strewn with a carpet of flowers, dried and fresh alike, in a mosaic of creamy lilies, daffodil suns, violet azures and poppy sunsets.  Fenris halted, paused over her threshold.

Then, Merrill looked around. Eyes widening.

She almost winced, supplanted by a little squeal of surprise.

He said, “I am intruding. I will leave again.”

Keep reading on AO3

[meikuree]

previous reblog made me look up my compilation of quotes/passages that struck me when I read The God of Small Things, which I’d previously posted only on dreamwidth. below the cut, for enjoyment and curiosity (cn for mentions of gore and sexual harassment):

The nights are clear, but suffused with sloth and sullen expectation.      But by early June the southwest monsoon breaks and there are three months of wind and water with short spells of sharp, glittering sunshine that thrilled children snatch to play with. The countryside turns an immodest green. Boundaries blur as tapioca fences take root and bloom. Brick walls turn moss green. Pepper vines snake up electric poles. Wild creepers burst through laterite banks and spill across flooded roads. Boats ply in the bazaars. And small fish appear in the puddles that fill the PWD potholes on the highways.

--

Yet Estha’s silence was never awkward. Never intrusive. Never noisy. It wasn’t an accusing, protesting silence as much as a sort of estivation, a dormancy, the psychological equivalent of what lungfish do to get themselves through the dry season.

Once the quietness arrived, it stayed and spread in Estha. It reached out of his head and enfolded him in its swampy arms. It rocked him to the rhythm of an ancient, fetal heartbeat. It sent its stealthy, suckered tentacles inching along the insides of his skull, hoovering the knolls and dells of his memory; dislodging old sentences, whisking them off the tip of his tongue.

---

Other days he walked down the road. Past the new, freshly baked, iced, Gulf-money houses built by nurses, masons, wire-benders and bank clerks, who worked hard and unhappily in faraway places. Past the resentful older houses [...] Each a tottering fiefdom with an epic of its own.

---- It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined. Over the years, as the memory of Sophie Mol (the seeker of small wisdoms: Where do old birds go to die? Why don’t dead ones fall like stones from the sky? The harbinger of harsh reality: You’re both whole wogs and I’m a half one. The guru of gore: I’ve seen a man in an accident with his eyeball twinging on the end of a nerve, like a yo-yo) slowly faded, the Loss of Sophie Mol grew robust and alive. It was always there. Like a fruit in season.

--- She waged war on the weather. She tried to grow edelweiss and Chinese guava.

--- Perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house-the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture- must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for.

--- His cremation was attended by all the boxers in Bengal. A congregation of mourners with lantern jaws and broken noses.

----

Ammu loved her children (of course), but their wide-eyed vulnerability and their willingness to love people who didn’t really love them exasperated her and sometimes made her want to hurt them-just as an education, a protection.

---

When she looked at herself in her wedding photographs, Ammu felt the woman that looked back at her was someone else. A foolish jeweled bride. Her silk sunset-colored sari shot with gold. Rings on every finger. White dots of sandalwood paste over her arched eyebrows. Looking at herself like this, Ammu’s soft mouth would twist into a small, bitter smile at the memory-not of the wedding itself so much as the fact that she had permitted herself to be so painstakingly decorated before being led to the gallows. It seemed so absurd. So futile. 

other shorter lines I put in admittedly for much more superficial reasons like “hey! a pretty sentence!” (too short on time to put borders between different passages, sorry)

Pappachi’s Moth was held responsible for his black moods and sudden bouts of temper. Its pernicious ghost-gray, furry and with unusually dense dorsal tufts-haunted every house that he ever lived in. It tormented him and his children and his children’s children. They were a family of Anglophiles. Pointed in the wrong direction, trapped outside their own history and unable to retrace their steps-because their footprints had been swept away. When he was in this sort of mood, Chacko used his Reading Aloud voice. His room had a church-feeling. He didn’t care whether anyone was listening to him or not. And if they were, he didn’t care whether or not they had understood what he was saying. Ammu called them his Oxford Moods. Ammu said it was all hogwash. Just a case of a spoiled princeling playing Comrade. Comrade! An Oxford avatar of the old zamindar mentality-a landlord forcing his attentions on women who depended on him for their livelihood. Memory was that woman on the train. Insane in the way she sifted through dark things in a closet and emerged with the most unlikely ones-a fleeting look, a feeling. The smell of smoke. A windscreen wiper. A mother’s marble eyes. Quite sane in the way she left huge tracts of darkness veiled. Unremembered. She had wanted a smooth performance. A prize for her children in the Indo-British Behavior Competition. Shadows followed them. Silver jets in a blue church sky, like moths in a beam of light. They were presents for a seven-year-old; Rahel was nearly eleven. It was as though Ammu believed that if she refused to acknowledge the passage of time, if she willed it to stand still in the lives of her twins, it would. As though sheer willpower was enough to suspend her children’s childhoods until she could afford to have them living with her. Centuries telescoped into one evanescent moment. History was wrong-footed, caught off guard. Sloughed off like an old snakeskin. In its absence it left an aura, a palpable shimmering that was as plain to see as the water in a river or the sun in the sky. As plain to feel as the heat on a hot day, or the rug of a fish on a taut line. So obvious that no one noticed. A pair of actors trapped in a recondite play with no hint of plot or narrative. Stumbling through their parts, nursing someone else’s sorrow. Grieving someone else’s grief. [...] inside, map-breath’d ancestors with tough toe-nails whispered to the lizards on the wall. That History used the back verandah to negotiate its terms and collect its dues. […] on the day History picked to square its books, Estha would keep the receipt for the dues that Velutha paid. The glint of Ammu’s needle. The color of a ribbon. The weave of the cross-stitch counterpane. A door slowly breaking. Isolated things that didn’t mean anything. As though the intelligence that decodes life’s hidden patterns-that connects reflections to images, glints to light, weaves to fabrics, needles to thread, walls to rooms, love to fear to anger to remorse-was suddenly lost. He tells stories of the gods, but his yarn is spun from the ungodly, human heart. [...] Something to do with Death’s authority. Its terrible stillness. They were both men whom childhood had abandoned without a trace. Men without curiosity. Without doubt. Both in their own way truly, terrifyingly adult. They looked out at the world and never wondered how it worked, because they knew. They worked it. They were mechanics who serviced different parts of the same machine.