tw: death, bereavement, medical trauma, alcoholism, etc. He had supposed that with no public funeral he would be subjected to no eulogies. As was often the case, he was wrong. The phone had been ringing for three days as news trickled in and out of the trail of social circles his brother had left behind him. For three days he had fielded remembrances and laughing anecdotes and tears, the stream of callers broken only by standing almost alone–the waitress from the local diner was there; a cashier from the liquor store–at his brother’s grave for some hours. It would have been nice for the sake of aesthetic consistency for the day to have been drizzly and forlorn, but it had been beautiful, as summer days nearly always were here–a vast blue sky, a breeze that rippled through the sun-yellow grass like surf. The churchyard was a pleasant place in the middle of the city, a snippet of the country plucked out and grafted into the gap that had been made for it. Secretly, in the confines of
One of the great burdens of being was to know things, Accolade had learned. The very idea that he was now a thing capable of learning had been strange enough. But to learn that he had a great many things to learn was stranger still, and to learn that he had somehow been born into the world with some things already known to him was perhaps the strangest of all. Most things that Accolade knew he knew in a hazy, indistinct way: he knew of his Creator, beautiful and capricious; he knew of his boundary and that in some way his tether to it was not the same that others of his kind experienced. He knew to move a bit of debris with his mind; he knew that if he wished he could step over some invisible seam in the earth and go somewhere accessible only to spirits. And he knew, dimly, somehow, of the things around him: he knew that he was born into the lists, and that he had been a weapon, and that the one who had carried him had died in his breaking and that he had done so for the sake of
tw: death, bereavement, medical trauma, alcoholism, etc. He had supposed that with no public funeral he would be subjected to no eulogies. As was often the case, he was wrong. The phone had been ringing for three days as news trickled in and out of the trail of social circles his brother had left behind him. For three days he had fielded remembrances and laughing anecdotes and tears, the stream of callers broken only by standing almost alone–the waitress from the local diner was there; a cashier from the liquor store–at his brother’s grave for some hours. It would have been nice for the sake of aesthetic consistency for the day to have been drizzly and forlorn, but it had been beautiful, as summer days nearly always were here–a vast blue sky, a breeze that rippled through the sun-yellow grass like surf. The churchyard was a pleasant place in the middle of the city, a snippet of the country plucked out and grafted into the gap that had been made for it. Secretly, in the confines of
One of the great burdens of being was to know things, Accolade had learned. The very idea that he was now a thing capable of learning had been strange enough. But to learn that he had a great many things to learn was stranger still, and to learn that he had somehow been born into the world with some things already known to him was perhaps the strangest of all. Most things that Accolade knew he knew in a hazy, indistinct way: he knew of his Creator, beautiful and capricious; he knew of his boundary and that in some way his tether to it was not the same that others of his kind experienced. He knew to move a bit of debris with his mind; he knew that if he wished he could step over some invisible seam in the earth and go somewhere accessible only to spirits. And he knew, dimly, somehow, of the things around him: he knew that he was born into the lists, and that he had been a weapon, and that the one who had carried him had died in his breaking and that he had done so for the sake of
the odds of any of them seeing it is approximately zero but if you're one of the people who bought my green knight shirts off redbubble this last month to wear to monkey man next week: i see you and love you
completely disheartening to get an ad about how this person on dA made 25k last year typing "big tits elf" into dall-e eighteen times a day but such is life i guess