#i was gonna send a google doc link out of desperation when i remembered that computers exist

[sorbeau]

THIS IS THAT MANIFESTO I WROTE I WANT THE TITLE TATTOOD ON MY EYEBALLS I THINK

The Stars, God, and Most Importantly, You.

There is a fundamental misconception held by most people in the world, in which we believe that we are distinct from everything around us. All of our existence centers on the idea that we are separated from the rest of the universe, and we foolishly act as if we are not built from the stars just as everything else on our planet is. We deceive ourselves into thinking that we are not part of the universe, but watchers and controllers of it.

I was raised by three instead of the American standard of two. My mother was a woman of gentle guidance, my father was a man of simple resolve, and my stepfather was a man of complex science. Describing him as a “man of science” may sound cold and distant, but in my experience, science is anything but. Yes, he was the traditional ex-Christian religion doubter scientist pessimist, but he was anything but cold. Where my mother taught me empathy, and my father taught me responsibility, my stepdad taught me curiosity and truth. 

By teaching me about science and the natural order of things, he instilled in me the gift of investigation and wonder, and through a clinical eye he showed me the complex, improbable wonders of the world. He showed me how flowers reproduce before I learned to write, and he taught me that the smell of rain is petrichor from the earth instead of how to tie my shoes. From him, I learned to ask “why?”.

This being said, my step-father gifted me with three core ideals: 

Science is the only truth in this world, if it cannot be proven, it cannot be.

There is no true God.

If you believe something to be true, fight for it.

This list may be controversial to some. Especially those who enjoy the comfort of religion, but before you storm off in a rage to deliver me passionate speeches on the glory of Allah, or God, or Whoever, listen to the rest of my statements. My step-father is a cold and critical scientist, but I have decided that the science he gave me is nothing short of kind and loving.

Everything I’ve been given, from my name to my ideals, has been changed and morphed to fit me comfortably, and this includes my definition of science and reasoning. This isn’t to say that I’m giving in to delusion, modern religion still has little resonance within me, but I can appreciate the desperate nature in which human love is channeled through it. There is very little in this universe that we understand, so we tend to explain it using abstract, ineffable terms like “divinity”, and the same goes for ourselves. Still, instead of exploring it using the tool of religion, we use science. To the smallest protons, science still cannot fully explain what is happening in your body, just as religion cannot explain what happens amongst the stars. There is so much of our existence that we will simply never know, and using all of the logic and science given to me by my step-father, it has left me stumped and floundering for an answer for as long as I could ponder the subject. However, I have found my answer.

That answer has always been, and will always be, Chaos, Love, and Time. Life always begins with Chaos and improbability, the chances of a sperm reaching an egg to form a baby, or stars colliding to form new elements have always been infinitesimally small. And yet, Chaos is so widespread and ever-present that there happens to be a sizable planet absolutely chock-full of that Life stuff. Of course, Time, being both the cultivator and the reaper of Life pushes it along its journey and is there to see us off when our Life ends. Chaos is our maker, and Time is our unmaker.

But what happens during Life? What gives it its supposed meaning? What gives it its worth? Love. The only thing that makes this consciousness business bearable is that it’s filled to the brim with Love. I don’t mean the simple “I think that girl is cute” kind of love, I mean the ever-present, all-encompassing, so-huge-and-universal-that-it’s-quite-impossible-to-wrap-my-head-around-without-crying Love (the capital “L” is important).

Love surrounds us at every moment whether we notice it or not. There is love in the way the sun shines, the way dirt holds us up, and the way fruit tastes sweet on our tongues. The universe loves itself in ways that are so complicated that men have spent their entire lives trying to unravel the tangled web of energy, and have labeled it science. Yes, science is a pursuit of love. What could be a grander expression of Love than for a human, made of stardust and milk and earth, to dedicate themself to the understanding of the universe in which they are a part?

I was taught to be a man of science, and in the important ways I am. But science, I’ve learned, is more “divine” than my step-father gave it credit for. We both agree that there is no Christian God, but I believe that if She exists, (God would be a She, I believe, as most mothers tend to be) She is the abstract personification of Chaos, Love, and Time, for which we wonderful creatures worship through Science.

[olament]

here is a detailed account of zerah’s exile. i am gonna warn you that there is abuse, violence, injuries, blood, and death in this. if you want a version that is shorter, let me know and i will write one to you. i will link a google doc and post it in a read more in case you have a hard time reading the font on my blog, you can do whichever is easier for you. doc link. pasted text below. 

He'd been out hunting. The woods felt more comfortable than back home anyway. The dangers lurking in the trees and bushes paled in comparison to the fear of getting in trouble. Last time he had went hunting, he had taken too long. He had tried his best to hurry back, but it wasn’t good enough. And it was starting to look like he would have no luck this time. 

  A woman. Maybe shorter than him, he couldn’t tell from his hiding place within the trees. Her hair was light-colored, as was her skin. She had a spear on her back and strange clothes. Maybe it’s the ‘armor’ the people of his tribe often talk of Outsiders wearing. It didn’t look overly protective. She kept calling a word. Maybe a name. She didn’t seem lost, but she did seem worried. Regardless, he would stay uninvolved. After all, he wasn’t allowed to talk to Outsiders. U’xulu may find out. But then again, even if he discovered he didn’t kill this woman, he would be angry. Zerah didn’t kill outsiders like the others. Not after the strange visions he had seen. Happy things and sad things. Memories, it seemed. People living their lives. Even if he didn’t understand what he saw, he did understand what he felt. Love, fear, pain, and joy. The visions made him feel so much that he couldn’t bear the idea of hurting those people. Despite his tribe saying that Outsiders were dangerous people that would sooner kill all of them than say hello, he didn’t think that was the case. But maybe it’s because of his Outsider’s blood. His father had been the last Outsider allowed into the tribe. And now look, he left. Left him with U’xulu…. No. He shouldn’t think like that. U’xulu was trying to help him. Zerah wasn’t like the others. He was a curse and for that, he had to work harder than the others. 

 He stayed in the tree until she passed, but the noise must have scared the animals away. The sun was starting to set, casting the forest in an amber glow. This was fine. Good actually. Unlike his sun seeker tribe, he could see better at night than in the day. So hunting at night was better for him. So long as he brought back enough to avoid scorn, it would be fine. The forest was silent aside from the insects, he walked quietly as his eyes scanned the darkness. But what caught his attention was sound. His ear twitched and he tilted his head. What was that? Breathing? Whimpering? A sound he knew well. Desperation and pain. Despite everything logical in him telling him to go the other way, he approaches. 

The first thing he sees is red. It seemed so out of place. All that red in the grass. Even painted by the setting sun, it looked like paint splashed crudely onto a canvas. A beautiful picture ruined by a sudden splash of red. He starts to shake. He recognizes the woman, trying to crawl. Her spear lay in two pieces beside her. Red blood staining that fragile-looking armor. It was only moments after that, he noticed the large boar. It’s tusks stained with the same red. Oh Gods… It was going to kill her. In an instant, his trembling stopped. He had been trained to take shots no matter how tense. In a fluid motion, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and took aim. The beast was already bleeding. He aimed for the leg and fired. The arrow pierced it, stick in its body. The beast cried out, stumbling. He prepared another shot and fired, striking in the neck. Another, this time in the side of its head. It felt limp with a noise that he can’t rightly explain. A pained cry, but more guttural. He put away his bow, and despite everything he knew he wasn’t supposed to do, he ran to her. 

“L-let me…” He stammered. Suddenly the panic hit him, full force. 

“Are you… a poacher?”  She asks, her tone full of agony. She was losing blood. Fast. 

“N-no… I… my tribe….” He knows he shouldn’t do this, but how can he not? She was hurt and alone. She would die if he didn’t help! He didn’t know what a ‘poacher’ was, but it sounded bad. “Let me help you…! You can lean on me.” 

 Maybe if he explained his visions, they would understand. Of course. None of them had them, probably. They may think outsiders were awful, but he knew they weren’t. Maybe they just didn’t know. Maybe things used to be like that, but it changed. He was certain that they would listen to him… At least, that’s what he told himself as he carried her back.

 It was dark when he arrived back. Only the dim light of the campfire acted as a beacon. Of course, the lookouts cornered him with their bows out. Asking him questions he couldn’t rightly answer. He was panicking and out of breath, frantically trying to explain the girl needed help. When the two lookouts heard his ramblings, they looked at each other and then ran off. Likely to get U’xulu. Already, people were leaving their tents to come to see what was happening. Whispers and hushed tones reached him, but he couldn’t make out the words. Until one voice reached him. Closer than the others and so familiar. 

“Zerah… What have you done?” His mother asked, drawing closer than the others but still keeping her distance. It was only then that the dread started to set in. The eyes looking upon him were full of fear. The two girls returned, followed by a much taller man. U’xulu Nunh stood taller than Zerah. Much taller. He was larger in just about every way. His long, braided hair seemed to move behind him swiftly as he walked. It spoke about the WAY he was walking. His gait seemed angry. As always when it came to him. 

“I send you to hunt and this is what you bring…”  The venom in his voice makes Zerah flinch. 

  He gently places the injured woman on the ground. She was only barely conscious. The pain had taken its toll. Within a moment, U’xulu had closed the distance between them. He was close enough to make Zerah’s skin burn. He… hated being close to him. Memories of his hands on him in one way or another rushed through his mind. As soon as he gets close enough to feel his warmth, Zerah’s gaze is cast down submissively. When U’xulu gets close, all Zerah wants is for it to be over quickly. He’s scared. But resolute. And for the first time, he looks back up and U’xulu’s burning gaze. His orange eyes were full of hate as they stared down at him. 

 “X-xulu… The outsiders a-aren’t… If we don’t help this woman, she’ll die…!” He insists as if it wasn’t obvious. “Please! She’s not some mindless killer! She’s a person! Like us! We can help her…!” 

 His mother says his name for a moment, but she’s cut off by U’xulu’s growl. He crosses his arms and shakes his head. As if he’s dealing with a disobedient child. He scoffs as he looks down at the injured woman and then his gaze returns to Zerah. 

 “Have you retained nothing? It is not JUST their disgusting nature that makes them our enemies! The gods and the elementals only allow us to live safely because we are purer than them.” He explains harshly as if Zerah is a fool. “That is why you and your father constantly brought them displeasure. It’s who you are. It’s in your blood. But Zerah, you and him were granted mercy. This woman could lead our tribe to face misfortune. We could all die…” 

 “But…!” Why? Why wouldn’t he listen? If that was the case, then why did so many of them venture into the wood unharmed? Why did they survive and lead happy lives while he… while his tribe had to hide like this? Was U’xulu wrong? He had to be. And yet… He knew that nothing he could say would convince him. So the objection dies in his throat. Instead, all that follows is silence. His gaze is averted again. 

“What would you have me do? Hm? Condemn my people for a stranger? For an outsider?” He continues his verbal attack. 

“I… don’t think the gods would care if we just saved her and…”

“And what? She could bring her friends here and they could slaughter us? Even now, just leaving her to die is too dangerous. You MUST redeem yourself, Zerah.” U’xulu refused to listen. Why did he expect him to? Hope? Hope was a cancer, It spread until it killed you. He needed to remember that. He had forgotten it. 

 “Take your bow and kill her. Or else you will be punished.” The words caused Zerah’s heart to sink to his stomach. He felt ill. Iller than he had this entire time. It felt like time stopped for a moment and the world faded away. For a blissful moment, none of it was real. Like a trained dog, he drew his bow. And it seemed the woman knew what was going on after all. She was crying. And he… he couldn’t… He dropped the bow and arrow he had pulled from the quiver. His own tears starting to spill. 

“I… I can’t do it.” He chokes out, trying not to sob. Everyone was watching. U’xulu was watching. 

  The Nunh walked behind him and took the quiver from his back while he tried not to cry. He walked back and picked up the discarded bow and arrow. He walked closer to the woman, pulling Zerah roughly by the arm and forcing him down on his knees beside her. Her dark eyes were filled with tears too. She begged, looking right at Zerah. He wanted to apologize. But before he could speak, U’xulu pressed his foot to the woman’s throat to hold her down. He readied the bow and before Zerah could shut his eyes, an arrow bore into her forehead. Her teary eyes remained open, but the begging stopped. It all stopped. She was dead. 

  Zerah cried out, feeling the warm and wet blood splatter on his face. He couldn’t look away. The only time he did was when he heard the sound of U’xulu throwing the items that were once his somewhere. His eyes finally shot up to his leader. Standing over him with a glare, he brought his foot down onto his chest. He kicked him, knocking the wind out of him and laying him out on his back. He choked. It hurt but… He had been treated to worse by U’xulu before. 

“Get up.” He ordered.

  Again, like a trained dog, Zerah rose clumsily to his feet, ignoring the pain and horror. The first syllable of an apology came from his lips before the larger man grabbed his collar and pulled him closer to him. He yelped, fear making his body almost limp. He, again, tries to apologize. That’s when U’xulu hits him with the first punch. It’s his right cheek, and he tastes blood instantly. The inside of his mouth hitting his teeth, no doubt. He is held upright by his collar. Another hit, this time to the temple. It hurts. He’s released, and he tries to stay standing. But Another punch hits him in the forehead and he crashes to the ground. U’xulu walks closer, placing an incredibly harsh kick to his side. It rolls him onto his stomach and makes him cry out. One foot his placed on the small of his back. Pain swells through him again. He kicks him in the same spot, harder this time. A terrible pain shoots through him, a third kick. One of his ribs cracks and he screams. His body is already shaking now. It has to be over soon… right? 

 “Get up, Zerah.” U’xulu commands him. 

  He tries to push himself up, but the pain sends him back down. Each breath hurts. He just needs to… catch his breath. He manages to raise himself to his knees, and suddenly U’xulu roughly grabs a handful of his hair and forces him to look up. He winces. It hurts. 

  “Can’t even do that? You’re useless, cursed, and totally worthless.” He says familiar things. This time, he punches the other side of his head. So hard that he crashes to the ground again. Pieces of his hair are torn free from the force. He’s seeing stars already. He shouldn’t resist. That makes it worse. The older man gets on top of him while he’s on his back.  He hits him with his left fist, he tastes blood again. His right first, his eye is swelling shut. His left, his cheekbone might be cracked. His right again, the pressure in his head is making it hard to think. The pain sends him under, and he isn’t sure how many more times he’s hit. His face is a bloody mess. He can’t see straight. He can’t… think straight. U’xulu isn’t on him anymore, but that slight relief is over. He starts stomping on him. His stomach, his legs, his arm. Another rib cracks, he can barely move his fingers, his leg can’t move without pain. Another kick. He’s on his stomach again. Blood is pouring from his mouth onto the grass. He can see his mother watching. Though not well, since one of his eyes is shut. He reaches for her before U’xulu’s foot crashes harshly on his outstretched hand. He cries out again as the nunh digs his foot into his hand. As if he’s trying to break his bones. He’s trying to hurt him.  It seems to drag on forever. Everyone was watching. And finally, Zerah is nothing but a bloody heap on the ground. 

 “Traitor. You are an Outsider now. If we see you, you will be treated as one.” The words sound far away. And at that point, he just wishes he would die. As he slips into blackness, he thinks he might. 

  He wakes a few times throughout the night. The first time, the pain makes him sob and not much else. The next, he tries to crawl but can’t. And the final time, it’s when he’s being moved. A sharp cry leaves his throat as someone attempts to lift him. 

  “Easy, easy.” A man’s voice says. “You’re…. Probably going to be okay.” He doesn’t sound very sure. The pressure in his head makes it hard to process anything. He can’t struggle. He can’t move without intense pain. They try to move him again and he passes out. 

  The next thing he knows, he wakes covered in bandages and stitches. A small settlement outside of Gridania. That’s what they tell him. They say there was only the corpse of the woman with him. He doesn’t explain for a while. He doesn’t say anything. It takes him quite a while to fully heal after the outsiders save him.