"That's acceptable. I cannot say I am not seeing to other tasks myself." Gardening, at this time of year? He didn't know enough of practical plant care to know if that was normal. "That would not be the evening hedge-maze I'd heard rumor of?"
The sounds in the background are quiet, but distinct, the scrape of some metal utensil across ceramic.
He hadn't gone, but he'd heard about it.
"The beginning, I suppose. Every belief has its origins."
AGGRESSIVELY RESUMES EXISTING, also this part of the Chant makes me think of Tron: Legacy
"It would be," and at the words both rue and amusement grow more obvious. "All I've got to excuse myself is that it seemed like a very good idea at the time.
"You wouldn't have any use for a basket of fresh marrows, would you?" The better part of them are bound for the orphanage and the slums, but given the terrifying number of them he'd grown, he can afford to be generous...
"Sensible enough. The Maker is He who existed before there were words for heaven or earth, sea or sky; before the Fade, or spirits, or men. He spoke the first Word, 'and His Word,'" here Myr's voice takes on a metered quality, like he's reciting poetry, "'became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities.'"
"Mayhap it was, if there was joy to be found, however briefly. Such moments should be cultivated." Even among mortals, as sad as they were. Perhaps moreso given how few they'd be able to enjoy in their short lives. "...Marrow the vegetable or marrow the cracked bone?" Honestly he really doesn't know which to expect, foreign magic could have very unusual results and he wasn't about to dismiss anything as a possibility.
A plant that grew marrow bones sounded perfectly plausible.
And then Myr spins a creation tale like most. A god stands alone, grows bored, and shapes reality around It by word or gesture. The truth of them was ultimately irrelevant, there was much study to be found in another culture's myths.
Lahabrea doesn't actually say anything, but there's a low noise of encouragement that goes along with a gesture Myr wouldn't be able to see anyway - continue.
That idea gives Myr brief pause. It's not that he doesn't agree with it wholly, even if he is rueing his own discretions of the past night, but more the source of it. (Thus the "danger" of him associating with Lahabrea that his Bonded had pegged right off, he supposes: He can find common ground with anyone and everyone, and be glad to meet them on it.)
"The vegetable," comes the affirmation. "I've not found a plant for growing soup bones yet, more's the pity." ...Though if they WERE marrow bones that grew on a plant, wouldn't they also be vegetable rather than meat?
That's one to ponder later.
"Having created the Fade, the Maker then made His firstborn, the spirits--as mutable as the realm they dwelt in, with the will to shape it. Then He made for Himself a Golden City within the Fade and retired to it, to see what His children would make for themselves."
Other Thedosian creation stories had their own way of explaining the spirits, the Fade, and the City residing within it; they had to, of course, in the same way they had to have something to explain the waking world. Though, of course, where Myr's concerned, those are the just so stories and this is the real one. Or close to it, anyway.
"But the spirits proved quickly unable to make anything of their own: Their creations only mirrored what the Maker already had wrought, echoing the songs and sights of His Golden City. 'And the Voice of the Maker shook the Fade, saying: "In My image I have wrought My firstborn. You have been given dominion over all that exists. By your will all things are done. Yet you do nothing. The realm I have given you is formless, ever-changing."
"I might find a use for them. Vegetable or soup bone." In this case the former. He can find a use for most things, even if sometimes it was just rendering it down into Bomb food.
So far, this creation story lacks a Paradise Lost, which was.. interesting. Just flawed creations from the start.
"..Forgive my interjection," comes the murmur after a moment, "But if they were unable to shape something new, that suggests a flaw in their creation, not a flaw in their abilities. The one who created them created the flaw, and then chastised them for it? A creator should take responsibility if the life they have shaped doesn't perform as expected."
Somehow he doesn't sound scornful of such an idea, just.. thoughtful, as if it's a familiar problem and remedying it well practiced.
Edited 2020-12-06 21:33 (UTC)
100% a pride demon. ISOs as mankind. tron as a spirit of...justice, maybe??
Another Andrastian, more orthodox and less prone to thinking about his faith, might be offended at that question.
Myr--Myr makes a little "ah!" of delight at it being asked, even as he takes a moment to audibly snip away at something before responding. "You've hit on an old point of contention, messere. The Maker did recognize His own failing in creating the spirits, but also seemed to hold them to account for it--an unworthy act for One who loves justice as much as He did.
"I personally hold to the reading that Threnodies was written to, mm, overstate His disappointment as with the spirits and not that He had not Made what He aimed to." More snipping, followed by a quiet hollow thunk of a squash being dropped on a pile of its fellows. "Especially after the Nevarran Accord, there were reasons to paint the Fade's first residents as being under His condemnation from the start, rather than just His dismay."
All said quite blithely and gamely, in a way that does not--yet--admit Myr's own deeper and tangled feelings on the matter. His brain's still too cloudy for going into the "uncomfortable doubts" end of the theology pool.
"Mortal interpretation, to further their own beliefs as opposed to the truth at the heart of it?"
Now that one's familiar. But it still acknowledges their God is anything but perfect - an unusual touch. A potentially unique one, at that. "I presume these spirits are seen as sources of evil in the modern day, and thus anything that considers them a worthy firstborn creation would taint a modern interaction."
Maybe more creations came later, and the first became jealous and hostile. But if this Maker deliberately shaped mortals as mortals then His trend of imperfections continued..
spirit of curiosity, maybe. or infiltration. could totally have "infiltration".
"Yes. As much as it pains me to say, but the Chantry hasn't always acted with truth as her aim."
It really does pain him to say; he is sorrowful that this is the state of the world, without denying it.
He goes on: "Spirits aren't evil of themselves, but they did let their envy of mankind--the Maker's second children--pervert them into demons. 'In blackest envy were demons born,' and those demons tempted men into tearing the Veil and violating the sanctity of the Maker's seat, the Golden City--blackening it forever.
"It's said their envy was the first thing the spirits created, and--I s'pose," thoughtful, now, as one coming to a new exegesis of an old and beloved scripture, "that's used as justification for the Maker's condemnation of them. Not that they couldn't create, but they didn't bother to until He had turned His face from them, and so they were deserving of His rejection. Because they chose not to be any greater than what they were."
Snip, snip, snip. More thoughtful still: "Odd thought. Don't know if I'd heard it argued that way before and forgot it or just came up with it now--but I don't know I believe it."
Are those already a thing or does he get his entire own classification
"In the cultures I have encountered, such a view is rather unusual." How unusual too, talking to a little device in a cold and drafty home he had yet to truly weatherproof, as if he were a squatter hiding from the true owners. "To attempt to be greater than one is made to be would be seen as the darkest of hubris, and that worthy of terrible punishment. Singing praise and crafting only to honor one's deity is .... often held up as exactly what one should be doing."
Not that Lahabrea did such, or believed such. Zodiark would be terribly disappointed in His worshipers if they threw away their creativity and power, how else could He ever hope to expand His influence? "It may be that no modern explanation is the truth, merely what is decided to explain a hostile and ancient species. We too are often seen as demons and monsters, for we came first, and we are capable of things that terrify most mortals but are not beholden to their rules and laws and thus made 'safe'. Mayhap these firstborn spirits are similar."
He's not offering it with definitive certainty, merely venturing an idle curiosity - so far this is all interesting education, not something for him to be putting forth hypotheses to be tested.
"Truly?" Myr's tone is one of curious wonder rather than incredulity. "I know there's a cult of the Maker or two that has something like that as doctrine--but the Chant is explicit that after Making mankind, He wished to see what we'd make of ourselves and the world He had given us. How we'd grow out of the 'opposition in all things' He declared for it."
Growing through hardship and leaving the world a better place than one found it were sacred acts, for Myr. He's maybe not representative of Andrastians generally, but that's hardly heterodox to their beliefs.
He...breathes out, slowly, (is there a Maker's breath hidden in the outrushing sigh?) at Lahabrea's proffered explanation. If he'd had cause to question his instincts about the sort of creature he was dealing with, here, he's definitely discarded it now. At least his hair-trigger response to things that fit the "demon" mold has attenuated in Aefenglom, with time and painful experience. Still...
"It may well be," he finally says. "Not all of the Chant is meant to be taken literally, and not all of it was copied forward as well as we'd like. There may be truth about the spirits that we've lost over the Ages, that gives a clearer picture of how the demons came to be. But I do still trust the Maker Made them, just as He Made us--even if, perhaps..."
He trails off, stacking gourds audibly in his basket as he turns the thought over in his mind. The Chantry had scapegoated and erased elves from the Chant over mortal politics--they'd docked Shartan's ears and relegated him to a mere title in Andraste's own Canticle. What could that mean for spirits, or demons?
"...we don't understand them so well as we should." Maker, forgive me for entertaining these ideas, and whatever it might mean should I return to the Fade after.
He balances a final gourd in the basket and sets it aside. "Are your kind hunted, then, whenever mortals find you out?" It's a little bit of a gruesome--and maybe invasive--thing to ask a new acquaintance, but given how demons were regarded on Thedas...it's a logical leap.
One that leaps him right away from considering uncomfortable things about spirits at length.
"Quite. Often with a 'fall from grace' tale that speaks of a paradise to be regained if only one is humble and praises their God enough." Even the lizardfolk had a similar story, though Ifrit's part in it tended to mean a lot of burning if things weren't done exactly right. As legacies go, it could be worse.
The Ishgardians were nearly as bad, but they did have their well armed clergy keeping them in line..
There's a faint tapping sound, like a nail or claw against a tabletop. "Mind you, if such a thing is a possibility, running off into the wild dark yonder to attempt to extend a flower of peace to such historical foes will likely have such an audacious attempt taken out of your hide. Centuries of conflict are rarely swiftly forgotten.. by either side." Even if it's possible to try to find out the truth of these demons, doing so may well end in horrible death.
Lahabrea absolutely would try it anyway if only to soothe his curiosity; he's certain they could do nothing to him. But a mere mortal? Up against spiritual beings who could in theory shape the world around them? No, that's a contest that could only end one way for the faun.
"...As for we Ascians. Mortals may wish to hunt us, but we are as above them as you are a housecat. The pet might think itself a great predator, and scratch and bite, but its chances of even doing temporary harm is negligible." Infections aside. "They might as well swing a sword at the morning fog or shake a fist at the moon for all it does them. If they could... oh, mayhap someone would grow bold enough and dare bare fangs at what many would call gods."
Oh, Myr would get possessed and no mistake were he to naively try such a thing, and he meets Lahabrea's warning with a wry laugh. It's enough to snap him out of his momentary melancholy, at least. "Truly, messere; if there's another truth behind the spirits we don't know, it's likely one I'd be better off finding through other sources than the principles himself."
Too bad he can't read anymore!!
There's a rustle of foliage and a hush of cloth on cloth as he gets up and feels his way to the next patch of squashes that require harvesting. Some creature makes a querulous noise in the background. "Maker's breath." Openly said, this time. "Are there any of those folk from your own world here--the sort who'd fight if given the chance?"
Is Lahabrea in imminent danger of getting murdered for what he had been now that he's not?
...And then, not because he doesn't know the answer but because he wants to see how his assumptions line up with what Lahabrea would say: "And for what reason?"
"Good. Stars know how often mortals get killed from merely indulging curiosity. You're a fragile lot, haring off begging trouble isn't wise." At least Myr did seem to understand that on some level! And yet here he is speaking to an Ascian. Certainly he doesn't really understand the true implications of that, or what Ascians actually did, but that was neither here nor there.
He'd learn eventually, likely.
There's another faint tap. "No." The answer is immediate and certain. Irhya's worthless, and hardly a threat. "Those who would try to fight us are inevitably fed lengthy tales about our evil and how it will bring ruin to the world. Which is absolute nonsense, but when you hear such nonsense from childhood's hour you're oft not terribly inclined to listen to words contrary to your careful education." He sounds disgusted. Destroy the world? Hardly! They were dedicated to saving it!
"..Ah, but being sidetracked - where do things stand now, between your Maker and all else? Where does this lead?"
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faithlikeaseed) wrote2019-08-01 12:00 am
Switching to vagueprose cuz phone.
The sounds in the background are quiet, but distinct, the scrape of some metal utensil across ceramic.
He hadn't gone, but he'd heard about it.
"The beginning, I suppose. Every belief has its origins."
AGGRESSIVELY RESUMES EXISTING, also this part of the Chant makes me think of Tron: Legacy
"You wouldn't have any use for a basket of fresh marrows, would you?" The better part of them are bound for the orphanage and the slums, but given the terrifying number of them he'd grown, he can afford to be generous...
"Sensible enough. The Maker is He who existed before there were words for heaven or earth, sea or sky; before the Fade, or spirits, or men. He spoke the first Word, 'and His Word,'" here Myr's voice takes on a metered quality, like he's reciting poetry, "'became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities.'"
who would be clu
A plant that grew marrow bones sounded perfectly plausible.
And then Myr spins a creation tale like most. A god stands alone, grows bored, and shapes reality around It by word or gesture. The truth of them was ultimately irrelevant, there was much study to be found in another culture's myths.
Lahabrea doesn't actually say anything, but there's a low noise of encouragement that goes along with a gesture Myr wouldn't be able to see anyway - continue.
i think in this case it's the demons....
"The vegetable," comes the affirmation. "I've not found a plant for growing soup bones yet, more's the pity." ...Though if they WERE marrow bones that grew on a plant, wouldn't they also be vegetable rather than meat?
That's one to ponder later.
"Having created the Fade, the Maker then made His firstborn, the spirits--as mutable as the realm they dwelt in, with the will to shape it. Then He made for Himself a Golden City within the Fade and retired to it, to see what His children would make for themselves."
Other Thedosian creation stories had their own way of explaining the spirits, the Fade, and the City residing within it; they had to, of course, in the same way they had to have something to explain the waking world. Though, of course, where Myr's concerned, those are the just so stories and this is the real one. Or close to it, anyway.
"But the spirits proved quickly unable to make anything of their own: Their creations only mirrored what the Maker already had wrought, echoing the songs and sights of His Golden City. 'And the Voice of the Maker shook the Fade, saying: "In My image I have wrought My firstborn. You have been given dominion over all that exists. By your will all things are done. Yet you do nothing. The realm I have given you is formless, ever-changing."
"'And He knew He had wrought amiss.'"
A pride demon??
So far, this creation story lacks a Paradise Lost, which was.. interesting. Just flawed creations from the start.
"..Forgive my interjection," comes the murmur after a moment, "But if they were unable to shape something new, that suggests a flaw in their creation, not a flaw in their abilities. The one who created them created the flaw, and then chastised them for it? A creator should take responsibility if the life they have shaped doesn't perform as expected."
Somehow he doesn't sound scornful of such an idea, just.. thoughtful, as if it's a familiar problem and remedying it well practiced.
100% a pride demon. ISOs as mankind. tron as a spirit of...justice, maybe??
Myr--Myr makes a little "ah!" of delight at it being asked, even as he takes a moment to audibly snip away at something before responding. "You've hit on an old point of contention, messere. The Maker did recognize His own failing in creating the spirits, but also seemed to hold them to account for it--an unworthy act for One who loves justice as much as He did.
"I personally hold to the reading that Threnodies was written to, mm, overstate His disappointment as with the spirits and not that He had not Made what He aimed to." More snipping, followed by a quiet hollow thunk of a squash being dropped on a pile of its fellows. "Especially after the Nevarran Accord, there were reasons to paint the Fade's first residents as being under His condemnation from the start, rather than just His dismay."
All said quite blithely and gamely, in a way that does not--yet--admit Myr's own deeper and tangled feelings on the matter. His brain's still too cloudy for going into the "uncomfortable doubts" end of the theology pool.
so what does that make Clu 1.0
Now that one's familiar. But it still acknowledges their God is anything but perfect - an unusual touch. A potentially unique one, at that. "I presume these spirits are seen as sources of evil in the modern day, and thus anything that considers them a worthy firstborn creation would taint a modern interaction."
Maybe more creations came later, and the first became jealous and hostile. But if this Maker deliberately shaped mortals as mortals then His trend of imperfections continued..
spirit of curiosity, maybe. or infiltration. could totally have "infiltration".
It really does pain him to say; he is sorrowful that this is the state of the world, without denying it.
He goes on: "Spirits aren't evil of themselves, but they did let their envy of mankind--the Maker's second children--pervert them into demons. 'In blackest envy were demons born,' and those demons tempted men into tearing the Veil and violating the sanctity of the Maker's seat, the Golden City--blackening it forever.
"It's said their envy was the first thing the spirits created, and--I s'pose," thoughtful, now, as one coming to a new exegesis of an old and beloved scripture, "that's used as justification for the Maker's condemnation of them. Not that they couldn't create, but they didn't bother to until He had turned His face from them, and so they were deserving of His rejection. Because they chose not to be any greater than what they were."
Snip, snip, snip. More thoughtful still: "Odd thought. Don't know if I'd heard it argued that way before and forgot it or just came up with it now--but I don't know I believe it."
Are those already a thing or does he get his entire own classification
Not that Lahabrea did such, or believed such. Zodiark would be terribly disappointed in His worshipers if they threw away their creativity and power, how else could He ever hope to expand His influence? "It may be that no modern explanation is the truth, merely what is decided to explain a hostile and ancient species. We too are often seen as demons and monsters, for we came first, and we are capable of things that terrify most mortals but are not beholden to their rules and laws and thus made 'safe'. Mayhap these firstborn spirits are similar."
He's not offering it with definitive certainty, merely venturing an idle curiosity - so far this is all interesting education, not something for him to be putting forth hypotheses to be tested.
no subject
Growing through hardship and leaving the world a better place than one found it were sacred acts, for Myr. He's maybe not representative of Andrastians generally, but that's hardly heterodox to their beliefs.
He...breathes out, slowly, (is there a Maker's breath hidden in the outrushing sigh?) at Lahabrea's proffered explanation. If he'd had cause to question his instincts about the sort of creature he was dealing with, here, he's definitely discarded it now. At least his hair-trigger response to things that fit the "demon" mold has attenuated in Aefenglom, with time and painful experience. Still...
"It may well be," he finally says. "Not all of the Chant is meant to be taken literally, and not all of it was copied forward as well as we'd like. There may be truth about the spirits that we've lost over the Ages, that gives a clearer picture of how the demons came to be. But I do still trust the Maker Made them, just as He Made us--even if, perhaps..."
He trails off, stacking gourds audibly in his basket as he turns the thought over in his mind. The Chantry had scapegoated and erased elves from the Chant over mortal politics--they'd docked Shartan's ears and relegated him to a mere title in Andraste's own Canticle. What could that mean for spirits, or demons?
"...we don't understand them so well as we should." Maker, forgive me for entertaining these ideas, and whatever it might mean should I return to the Fade after.
He balances a final gourd in the basket and sets it aside. "Are your kind hunted, then, whenever mortals find you out?" It's a little bit of a gruesome--and maybe invasive--thing to ask a new acquaintance, but given how demons were regarded on Thedas...it's a logical leap.
One that leaps him right away from considering uncomfortable things about spirits at length.
no subject
The Ishgardians were nearly as bad, but they did have their well armed clergy keeping them in line..
There's a faint tapping sound, like a nail or claw against a tabletop. "Mind you, if such a thing is a possibility, running off into the wild dark yonder to attempt to extend a flower of peace to such historical foes will likely have such an audacious attempt taken out of your hide. Centuries of conflict are rarely swiftly forgotten.. by either side." Even if it's possible to try to find out the truth of these demons, doing so may well end in horrible death.
Lahabrea absolutely would try it anyway if only to soothe his curiosity; he's certain they could do nothing to him. But a mere mortal? Up against spiritual beings who could in theory shape the world around them? No, that's a contest that could only end one way for the faun.
"...As for we Ascians. Mortals may wish to hunt us, but we are as above them as you are a housecat. The pet might think itself a great predator, and scratch and bite, but its chances of even doing temporary harm is negligible." Infections aside. "They might as well swing a sword at the morning fog or shake a fist at the moon for all it does them. If they could... oh, mayhap someone would grow bold enough and dare bare fangs at what many would call gods."
no subject
Too bad he can't read anymore!!
There's a rustle of foliage and a hush of cloth on cloth as he gets up and feels his way to the next patch of squashes that require harvesting. Some creature makes a querulous noise in the background. "Maker's breath." Openly said, this time. "Are there any of those folk from your own world here--the sort who'd fight if given the chance?"
Is Lahabrea in imminent danger of getting murdered for what he had been now that he's not?
...And then, not because he doesn't know the answer but because he wants to see how his assumptions line up with what Lahabrea would say: "And for what reason?"
no subject
He'd learn eventually, likely.
There's another faint tap. "No." The answer is immediate and certain. Irhya's worthless, and hardly a threat. "Those who would try to fight us are inevitably fed lengthy tales about our evil and how it will bring ruin to the world. Which is absolute nonsense, but when you hear such nonsense from childhood's hour you're oft not terribly inclined to listen to words contrary to your careful education." He sounds disgusted. Destroy the world? Hardly! They were dedicated to saving it!
"..Ah, but being sidetracked - where do things stand now, between your Maker and all else? Where does this lead?"