#ruminations

[on--the--cusp]

Let's see if we can recreate some of the words and thoughts I spent too much time on yesterday. 😮‍💨

Going and meeting with Jinu is the best mistake Rumi could have made.

Yes, he lies to her. Yes, he betrays her.

But he also lets her in.

He's spent 400 years believing one terrible thing about himself to be true. Spent 400 years full of shame and regret for his human life. Spent 400 years looking for a way to silence the flames.

Jinu has spent 400 years only wanting to erase his past, to put an end to his shame.

The more Rumi meets with Jinu, the more she sees him as human, the more she treats him as such, sees him as worthy.

The one thing Jinu fully believes that he is not.

The closer they grow, the more she gives him new memories, feelings other than shame and regret, things he's not as willing to give up - good things, that somehow make the bad things easier to bear, the shame easier to carry.

But old habits - patterns of behaviour, if you will - die hard. He's afraid to hope, he's already said he believes himself hopeless. He's afraid of how much worse that voice in his ear could be, if it also has Rumi to twist like a knife in his ribs.

He's afraid he won't be able to save her, just like he couldn't save his family.

When he puts himself in between Rumi and Gwi-Ma, he makes a choice, he acts in the one way he couldn't in life - with self-sacrifice.

It's that act that earns him his soul back.

It's that one soul that turns the tide.

Rumi saw Jinu and realized the demon in her is far more human than she could have ever known.

Jinu saw Rumi and realized the demon in him could still be a hero.

[madgod-of-kvatch]

I've been thinking a lot about how Martin mantled Akatosh, the eldest of the gods, the one who literally brings life to the planet through sunlight and growth to everything on it through time, who is the source of empires and control, whose existence brought the concept of law into the world. And he did it in a single moment of desperate necessity, giving up everything and leaving the mortal realm forever for just a few seconds with the power needed to save it.

And then I think about how the Hero of Kvatch mantled Sheogorath, the (arguably) youngest of the gods, the one who was inadvertently created by the others and fills in all the spaces between them, who makes life worth living through music and color, who allows and enables the mortal mind to expand past the limits placed upon it by all the others, the only one who believes in free will and is willing to destroy anything to preserve it. And how they had chance after chance to turn back, to give up, but set their feet and held their ground and took the reins of eternity to protect a world that wasn't even theirs.

I think about how Akatosh is a reflection of Anu on the surface of Nirn, and Sheogorath is the Sithis-shaped hole in the world, and I wonder if that's why it turned out like this. If the world was meant to end in the Oblivion Crisis, and the two of them together re-anchored the pillars that support reality by mantling the two mortal-compatible aspects thereof. I wonder if they saved the world in ways they didn't even understand at the time.

I wonder if they know that they're still working together, even now, even if they'll never see each other again. I wonder if they know they're still halves of a whole, a Chosen Two who will never be remembered for what they actually did, only for what they left behind. Martin will only ever be a name he didn't know was his own, Septim, and The Hero will never be anything but their first harrowing battle, Kvatch, losing their own name forever by becoming Sheogorath.

I think about it, and I wonder. I hope they know. It seems the least of what they both deserve.

[o-craven-canto]

Even in a purely, coldly utilitarian moral system, there are three questions to ask before accepting harmful or destructive Means because they ostensibly lead to a better End:

Do the Means lead to some other negative End, in addition to the intended one? The classical example of the naïve utilitarian doctor who kills a patient in order to harvest their organs and save five patients, in practice, if accepted, leads to general loss of trust in doctors and hospitals and therefore to much greater loss of life; hence, doctors should follow a hard rule of not killing patients to harvest their organs, even if this might save more lives in the shortest term.

Are the Means necessary in order to achieve the End? The negative utility of atrocious Means still ends up in the final account along with the supposed positive utility of the End (and without the penalty for uncertainty that the latter should arguably be given). The Means are as much part of the final state as the End.

Do the Means, in fact, lead to the End? Any consequentialist justification for an atrocity-for-the-greater-good automatically fails if the atrocity does not plausibly bring out the greater good, even before any other consideration is taken. It's all well and good to say that you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, but (ignoring for the moment that people are arguably owed more consideration than eggs) a large chunk of the 20th century was a sustained and furious festival of egg-crushing and egg-trampling that resulted in precisely zero omelettes.

[narusasuart]

My fingers are itching to draw SNS in the outfits from the new official art.

I mean - look at those twinks. The tunics? The belts? The jewelry?

[mynameiselicomics]

Oil.

[sluggoonthestreet]

On rainy days, Morton sits and thinks about all the invisible balls he tried to fetch.

[danadivine]

Less thoughts; more intentional thinking.

[godsentfailure]

[elsweyr-4e101]

There is a secondary and lesser known language throughout Elsweyr consisting purely of carefully controlled purring, simply called "the Purring Language" or "Purrspeak". it can convey huge amounts of information in much shorter periods of time, making it much more efficient than spoken languages, but it has several drawbacks that keep it from becoming commonplace.

Primarily, it cannot travel far, and speakers must be in close proximity somewhere with little ambient noise so as to not be drowned out; as a result it is often used by thieves and other sneaky sorts, allowing them to communicate effectively with each other without being heard, even when those they wish to hide from are close by.

Purrspeaking doesn't allow for as much inflection as normal language, so certain elements of communication that rely on tone are completely lost.

It also requires a great deal of training, both physically and mentally, to be able to control one's purring reflex to the degree necessary to use it linguistically. Also to be able to hear it and understand it takes lots of practice, and it's exceedingly easy for novices to vastly misinterpret something someone says, if they're not careful.

Additionally, even with the necessary training, someone who is experienced and fluent in the language cannot always speak it at will, as certain hormonal, mental or physical states can disrupt one's ability to purrspeak.

In many khajiiti temples, Suthay priests and priestesses (the ones who said to be expected to play a role, presumably ceremonial, in preparing for the end of time) are trained to fluency in the Purring Language. In fact, in many temples when they go from being a novice to a full-fledged monk, they will take a vow of silence and are permitted only to Purrspeak. They are then taught, once they've mastered the language, oral histories that date back tens of thousands of years, describing landscapes and natural disasters long forgotten, before the arrivals of both Mer and Man, and allegedly even the true creation story of the Khajiit.

It is in these oral histories that reliably recount the first days of existence that the Suthay's role in bracing for the end of time becomes apparent; time is a flat circle, and the earliest days of existence directly supersede the final days of existence. By knowing and recounting their very beginning, they can know and predict their end.

[ren-054]

I have to realize that my superiors and current authority figures don’t have an obligation to like me and I have to continue on my life without their approval

I am like a foster cat and they are my handler, this is not my forever home. This space is transitional. They know that, and I should to. I have better places to be.

[madgod-of-kvatch]

I may just have missed it, since I came into the Oblivion side of TES so late, but I'm surprised not to have seen anyone talking about how much of Shivering Isles is...the right term would be "wish fulfillment," I think. For the Hero of Kvatch specifically.

Particularly, I'd like to look at the siege on Passwall. The town of Passwall isn't particularly large—bigger than Hale, but that's not saying much—but it's well-protected, with a strong perimeter wall and good defenses, with a guardian literally built to purpose. It's extremely important to the Shivering Isles as a whole. It's where some of the realm's most important work is done, most notably Relmyna's fleshsmithing, and it's an important place for the people of the realm because it's where everyone starts. The citizens of Passwall are decent people with their own issues and their own stories, some make good decisions and some don't. It's the first place the Hero of Kvatch sees what the Shivering Isles are capable of, and it sets the stage for the rest of the adventure. It's where anyone who wants to move forward in their own adventure proves themselves worthy to be a subject of the Madgod, whatever that means.

Passwall is a mirror of Kvatch, as the Hero never got to see it. Kvatch wasn't particularly large—bigger than Chorrol, but that's not saying much—but it was well-protected, with a strong perimeter wall and good defenses, with a guard regiment trained to purpose. It was also extremely important to Cyrodiil as a whole. It was where some of the nation's most important work was done, being the home of the Temple of Akatosh, and it was an important place for a lot of citizens in Tamriel because Akatosh is where the Empire started. The citizens of Kvatch were, and the handful left still are, decent people with their own issues and their own stories, some of which made good decisions and some of which didn't. It's the first place the Hero of Kvatch saw what the Oblivion Crisis was capable of, and set the stage for the rest of the adventure. It's where the Hero of Kvatch proved themselves worthy of protecting the last heir of the Empire, whatever that meant.

But here's the key difference: they reached Kvatch too late. By the time they got there, the Great Gate that ripped the city apart had served its purpose and been closed, leaving the city in ruins and the vast majority of its citizens dead. There was hope that there may have been some survivors left in the castle, but it was just hope, and it ended up being for nothing; everyone who wasn't in the temple was dead, and very few of the handful of guards would survive the ensuing struggle.

The hero of Kvatch was forced to push through alone, into the oldest, most defensible structure in the area, the castle, leaving the guard behind to hold off the horde while they attempted to find something that made those losses worth it, some hint of life left in the midst of the maelstrom—and they failed. The leader of Kvatch, Count Goldwine, was dead by the time the Hero found him. They'd never know exactly how he died or how many people died with him, and in the end they couldn't even retrieve his body, only a symbol of his office to bring to his last surviving guard.

The Hero couldn't even help to rebuild Kvatch, and the few citizens left would spend the rest of the story lamenting the deaths of their loved ones in a makeshift settlement a mile outside the home they loved so much.

In contrast, when Order lays siege to Passwall, the Hero is notified immediately. The city is ransacked and the citizens have disappeared by the time they get there—either having abandoned the town, been struck down, or turned traitor—but there's still a full regiment of Saints or Seducers left to push back Jyggalag's forces. And, most importantly, even if every single one of those defenders dies in the ensuing struggle, they'll come back. They're Sheogorath's personal dremora, it's impossible to lose any of them forever. They'll all be back, all it takes is some determination and patience on the Hero's part, and they'll get to see every one of them again.

The Hero of Kvatch pushes through alone, into the oldest, most defensible structure in the area, Xeddefen, without hope for survivors but for a chance to deactivate the Obelisk that's ripping the Fringe apart—and they find a survivor. Not just any survivor, either, but the leader of Passwall, Mayor Shelden, who tells the Hero exactly what happened, how he wound up here, what's happening. Instead of running away, he throws himself into the fray and helps the Hero fight off the forces of Order, knowing that at least one of the priests is a friend who betrayed him, because protecting his city is worth more than his life or his own feelings. The Hero of Kvatch personally deactivates the Obelisk, in the exact way they weren't able to close the Great Gate.

When the Greymarch ends, Passwall is restored to its former state. The people return to the homes they lost, the Hero of Kvatch has crafted them a new guardian to make sure this never happens again, and life goes on.

This happens over and over throughout the story of the Shivering Isles, including the very end: Martin was forced to give himself up forever, taking hold of a role and power he never wanted to protect people that didn't know him, losing himself to Akatosh and leaving his people without a leader. Jyggalag was at last able to return to himself, freed from a role and power he never wanted that forced him to rule over a sphere that would never understand him, finding himself once more and leaving the people he'd ruled over as Sheogorath with the Hero of Kvatch as their leader, someone who had already proven how far they would go to protect them.

I think the Shivering Isles presents the happiest ending the Hero of Kvatch could ever have. It's not a true do-over, not really, but it's as close as they could ever get—and this time they know exactly what to do to make sure things turn out right. What happier ending could a hero whose story is built on failure and death and sacrifice possibly want?

[o-craven-canto]

Imagine a world where everybody from a very young age is taught the basics of phonology and syntax and encouraged to make their own personal conlang for their private thoughts,

and by the time they're teenagers it's so impenetrable and convoluted that trying to read someone else's personal notes is in the same position as the Japanese cryptographers trying to follow Navajo code-talkers,

and the most intimate thing you can possibly do with anyone is teach them your secret language

(and then people are scrambling to rewrite their conjugation tables so their exes can't read their stuff anymore)

[selfhealingmoments]

rumination – when your psyche becomes consumed with excessive and intrusive thoughts about negative experiences and feelings ⬇ no amount of meditation, self-care, new diets or exercise will turn the clock back. yes, these methods and practices are good for you and your future, but they will not resolve your past. The only way to heal your past is to fully accept what happened and stop looking at it. take a step back and zoom out of things that don't require your attention anymore. ⬆

[plaidparadscha]

Ocd is awful because you could think that you’ve put your mind at ease once you’ve done/fixed the thing you were ruminating about, then you start over analyzing that one thing again and again, trying to fix it or add onto it just to make it even worse than it was before.

[godsentfailure]