tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456
The Ecteiroglyphs of the Lorwolm
The prohecies the three angels: Ga-ukogomen, Nihr Avna-attu and Tsitao-utna
lorwolm
2011-05-13T03:47:17Z
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:14878
XLI. An Army of Yellow Horses
2011-05-13T03:47:17Z
2011-05-13T03:47:17Z
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<img src="http://i70.photobucket.com/albums/i86/zinc_tart/newlor2.gif"><br /><br /><span style="color:#335300;">In the ladder gyre of the Age of Eichenblon's Crater:</span><br /><br /><strong>One scanty quarrel</strong> wakens an army of yellow horses<br />While the flat ghosts of thirty slain captives unfold<br />Between the furrowed skin of orphaned wealth.<br />One known detail of a buried inmate's lost promise<br />Illuminates the harmony between earth and sheaf.<br /><br /><strong>The tradition</strong> of giving shelter to the fugitive<br />Aids the aged deity followed by unarmed guardians.<br />False alliances will guide the hidden rescuers<br />Along a journey of avoidance and encounter.<br /><br /><strong>Alone</strong> in a boat without oars, a swimmer<br />Carries to his ship a round portion of felt <br />Chased with the fourth eye of chaos repeated.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2011 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=14878" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:14372
XL. The Cinct Generations
2010-09-07T23:36:23Z
2010-09-07T23:39:03Z
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<img src="http://i70.photobucket.com/albums/i86/zinc_tart/lorwi02d.gif"><br /><br /><span style="color:#335300;">In the gyre eclipsed of the Age of the Good Remainder:</span><br /><br /><strong>Technological obsessions</strong> rule the cinct generations<br />While four times turns the cycle of Nousparltut.<br />When elections filled with distortion and fanaticism <br />Bring fatal strategies as incessant as monsoon rains,<br />A natal chart is drawn for a second birth in winter.<br /><br /><strong>Grassroot forces</strong> hide three counterspies within the house<br />Marked by a golden thorn under spirituous water<br />And by the instalment of pierced casements uplifted<br />Over laments of oceangoing brides written in drawn wire.<br /><br /><strong>The three</strong> are unreliably known, and laughingly,<br />As the Invertebrate, the Witness, and the Libertine,<br />In a common language of unlicensed supplicants.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2010 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=14372" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:14085
XXXIX. In orchards rough-handled by hope
2010-08-29T07:30:14Z
2010-08-30T03:51:01Z
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<img src="http://i70.photobucket.com/albums/i86/zinc_tart/isha3.gif"><br /><br /><span style="color:#335300;">In the hooded gyre of the Age of Eichenblon's Crater:</span><br /><br /><strong>Descendants of Azargalatzin,</strong> known as the Pryoglau,<br />Court, love and marry like the native bees<br />Who overwinter in hollow stems of bamboo,<br />And house their families behind walls of mud<br />In orchards rough-handled by the hopes of spring.<br /><br /><strong>A compass wall</strong> separates the northernmost hotels <br />From the city divided into schools and embassies,<br />Where nomenclature and mansions are never remade.<br />A boundary tower is a major landmark of atonement.<br /><br /><strong>A nation of faith</strong> is slow to regenerate after plague and fire;<br />Treaties are secret and documents of science are censored.<br />A polyglot violation of sentiment and status brings upheaval.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2010 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=14085" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:13252
XXXVIII. The bandaged cardinal
2010-06-26T22:38:31Z
2010-06-26T22:38:31Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the third gyre of the Age of the Nascent Vaunthald:</span><br /><br /><strong>Poisoned battalions</strong> ride as if on the ocean, awed by cold,<br />Suffering optical storms of transparent shadows<br />Magnified by the fierce temper of galling suns.<br />This sleep of opiates stretches its illusion on all sides,<br />No distant landmark breaks the monotony of its fragile glory.<br /><br /><strong>The bandaged cardinal,</strong> born in the delicate ruin of a<br />Narrow six-story mansion, a bitter man with little regard<br />For marbled halls, abandons his beggarly church<br />And succors the remote expedition to the Byalkakeyl Zone.<br /><br /><strong>A new vital energy</strong> is found in this itinerant branch<br />Of an ancient dissolute family. With rigor and purpose<br />A disquieted soul proves its genuine worth.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2010 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=13252" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:12945
XXXVII. A flooded city falls diminished
2010-06-26T04:03:12Z
2010-06-26T04:07:52Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the ladder gyre of the Age of the Glass Council:</span><br /><br /><strong>Where kings once</strong> toiled as goldsmiths and soldiers,<br />Where merchant princes financed poets and popes,<br />A flooded city falls diminished, its stout walls of honor<br />Shadowed by wet decadance, an ambitious mausoleum<br />Under trees with violet-eyed blooms and lush dark fruit.<br /><br /><strong>Seven immodest</strong> artists challenged seven bullish judges<br />In laborous directions, two double-edged swords<br />At right angles to each structure of the foreordained body.<br />But they could not gain new force from the ceremonies.<br /><br /><strong>Lost is the wealth</strong> of precision built by scholars<br />Who wrote their own fame, decided their own destiny.<br />Genius cannot collaborate with hierarchy.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2010 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=12945" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:12744
XXXVI. A plague of austere years
2010-04-27T05:20:09Z
2010-04-27T05:23:57Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the seventh gyre of the Age of the Immersed Desolation:</span><br /><br /><strong>When a summer wind</strong> brings a plague of austere years<br />To snowy boderlands, ten thousand cypress boughs<br />Will freeze upon glass pedestals. This formidable threshold<br />To patrimonial fortunes of haughty merchants, unbound <br />By constitutional restraint, is overturned and cleansed.<br /> <br /><strong>The pale-faced enemy</strong>, who sold pies in the cast-down streets,<br />Sits on a broken turret stone, smoke rising from his clothes<br />Crusted with a red plaster of thick blood and wood ashes.<br />His sharp head is uplifted, his hair drips with black ribbons.<br /><br /><strong>In the absence</strong> of liberality, all winds chasten bitter shelters<br />For the intact soul: houses gone, chimneys fallen amid<br />White wings of paper and floating particles of thin ice.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2010 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=12744" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:12472
XXXV. The Boar's enlightenment
2010-02-21T20:31:42Z
2010-02-21T20:31:42Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the clauted (cleated?) gyre of the Age of the Sinquel Memorial:</span><br /><br /><strong>Ringing sparks rise</strong> at the strike of a sharp wheel<br />Against a charred crucifix sheathed in square iron,<br />Wrapt in the mystery of the swift-coming collapse. <br />A future shaped around nine days of storming fire,<br />Final proof absorbed in burned stones still steaming.<br /><br /><strong>A barefooted visitor</strong> with red eyes, crouched shoulders<br />And coy palms disembarks from an enclosed courtyard<br />In a maze of shrines. At 36 years of age, this lone Boar,<br />Unfit for the purpose, is briefly allowed to hold dominion.<br /><br /><strong>Unable to avoid</strong> unyielding strain after a sleepless year,<br />A necessary act haunts the Boar's enlightenment<br />As revelation continues in pages in the fourth part.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2010 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=12472" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:12226
XXXIV. An obsidian burl
2009-12-28T20:42:30Z
2010-08-12T18:34:04Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the ladder gyre of the Age of Broeudhe-bas:</span><br /><br /><strong>Grimm's lawyer</strong> gains the heir to a corpse of hardened ash—<br />His first voyage of spiritual apocalypse will be undertaken upon<br />The tipping point of ten thousand tons of monastery burnt black;<br />His psalms of revelatory verse, lacking pain and fevered speech, <br />Grinned without color, discount his claim to lyrics of fire.<br /><br /><strong>Brittle monstrosities</strong> surface in data from scientific journals,<br />From skeletal pages fragile, faintly yellow and nearly transparent.<br />Asymmetrical bodies, earthen and nightmarish, emerge from<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Paper folded</span><br />In unquiet thirds, rashly unearthed from extinct sediments.<br /><br /><strong>Disrupted small light</strong> begins to swirl within an obsidian burl<br />Separated from the good and secretly buried under soil<br />Once the ruins of a winter empire in the valley of the Sut.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2009 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=12226" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:11998
XXXIII. Three Silences
2009-11-20T04:52:40Z
2009-11-20T05:07:08Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the second gyre of the Age of the Recluded Star:</span><br /><br /><strong>The infected hermitage</strong> looms over exiled roofs,<br />An island in a sea of wide chimneys crumbling,<br />The heated metal edge of its the ridgepole steaming<br />In sleet rain falling, sifted by winds, while shadows<br />And doubted apparitions root themselves in water.<br /><br /><strong>Three silences dowered</strong> with outside properties,<br />Three ghosts obedient to outside laws, each carrying<br />All their owned disbelief: a woman protected by a shroud<br />Of flinching caterpillars, her right eye is blue—<br /><br /><strong>Two malign green eyes</strong> carved in the upraised hands<br />Of a stony saint—and a child prodigy skull-split<br />With ink-dark blood braided into an imperial coat.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2009 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=11998" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:11739
XXXII. The red-masked summer
2009-11-09T06:18:20Z
2009-11-20T05:05:25Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the gyre vaunted of the Age of the Tilpimultuk Truce:</span><br /><br /><strong>Strife in the</strong> skittish beginning of the red-masked summer—<br />Several hooded, whispering devils appear on the eclipse;<br />They stand outside doors of imminent peril yet never enter,<br />While odd and discordant young frogs overrun all the land,<br />Crying loud and full-throated, for two hundred and <br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Twenty hours.</span><br /><br /><strong>A wise and subtle</strong> advocate suffers a transformation on the <br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Fourth day</span><br />After the first volumes of his monumental work are published<br />By virtue of his office. He is led by a string of sudden and<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Desperate crimes</span><br />Into brotherhood with pirates, abiding day and night in <br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Their ships.</span><br /><br /><strong>Within a small</strong> empty village a white-soled girl hallucinates,<br />Her tears astir with joy and hope, dreaming from perilous heights,<br />Winged as the sunbird, in circling flight above a twice-blest realm.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=11739" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:11417
XXXI. A map of midwinter stars
2009-11-05T05:44:47Z
2009-11-08T21:40:02Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the seventh gyre of the Age of the Shielded Immaltant:</span><br /><br /><strong>The eighth man</strong> laid upon a rough table is the largest object<br />Within a single niche lighted by wax candles carved<br />With a red crescent moon and a map of midwinter stars.<br />This spare form is dressed in ragged and torn cloth, <br />The raiment of those who are slain by their own hand.<br /><br /><strong>His banner</strong> is a yellow sycamore leaf torn and caught under<br />The wooden haft of a knife sunk deep in a gentle heart.<br />His feet point towards a door low in the western wall,<br />Towards a destination that must be reached by discovery.<br /><br /><strong>His head rests</strong> on clay bricks stamped with the edge<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Of finger-rings.</span><br />His legacy bequeaths the stilled heat and light of day,<br />In four mismatched jars, to forty-four thousand children.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=11417" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:11232
XXX. The king's niece
2009-11-04T20:47:30Z
2009-11-04T20:51:53Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the dialected gyre of the Age of the Yequirthed Crisis:</span><br /><br /><strong>Three sons</strong> and a daughter of a northern king,<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Exiled in silence—</span><br />Nothing known of their unexplained crime and shame—<br />Are harassed by the fearsome army of the king's niece,<br />A warrior much renowned for her great malice, cruelty of will,<br />And the thick veil shrouding her forehead and left eye.<br /><br /><strong>Pity her,</strong> this gnawed figure of strange vibrant power<br />Wrapt in clouds of catastrophe half like blood,<br />Half like fire, forever in the shadow of her white brother,<br />Who died at ten years, his tongue thickened with poison.<br /><br /><strong>By cause</strong> and reason of pain, and by reason of guilt,<br />She will endure the continuous suffering of one accursed;<br />Only to strangers in battle does she ever seem fortunate.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2009 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=11232" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:10874
XXIV. To the wife of Goats-for-Horses
2009-11-03T23:41:31Z
2009-11-04T20:53:16Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the fourth gyre of the Age of the Sinquel Memorial:</span><br /><br /><strong>An interpretation</strong> of a wild dream half-remembered:<br />The stones of the pit cast out of your stripped grave<br />Will be trodden under foot by your foolish beloved,<br />Who will emerge from middle bones and other books,<br />Waiting for the sky to break over lost deserts, lost islands.<br /><br /><strong>Your husband's</strong> spirit-stirring drums will speak fear<br />To a god in a crest of birch-trees on a gray-clouded rock.<br />He brings forth the roaring of the seawall taken down,<br />Decimating a becalmed population steadfast in its refusal.<br /><br /><strong>All those who</strong> have come before will ascend soundlessly<br />Upon the abdomen's third mute breath. Thus cleansed<br />And lightened, they fly to the Dome of Intermittency.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2009 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=10874" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:10208
XXVI. Agot's piteous error
2009-10-29T00:00:33Z
2009-11-01T18:18:40Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the hooded gyre of the Age of the Bunin Kings:</span><br /><br /><strong>First introduced</strong> under obscure names and disguises,<br />The Fool with a narrow forehead and one subdued eye,<br />Cloaked within a foxskin hood with tail dangling,<br />Will confound the throned monarch wrapt in pease-straw,<br />Whose cold wounded hand grasps two fatal aspects.<br /><br /><strong>At the hastened hour</strong> of the forthcoming Sun,<br />Malice in the blood whips the summer sea high.<br />With all dread ramifications of Agot's piteous error,<br />Floodwaters shatter the immense vault of the quarry fortress.<br /><br /><strong>The burning children</strong> of Anterrabae and Shukimanu<br />Walk in the master's footsteps, house to house,<br />Village to village, clothed in unapproachable light.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2009 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=10208" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:9803
XXV. Three silent virtues
2009-06-25T15:25:11Z
2009-11-01T18:19:37Z
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<span style="color:#335300;">In the itinerant gyre of the Age of the Sinquel Memorial:</span><br /><br /><strong>The clouded child marked</strong> with royal wounds and<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Grievous wonder,</span><br />Born in subdued circumstances to a wedded pair of captains<br />During the ice-locked border-war between winter nations,<br />Will unshaken bear the assault of glorious engines,<br />Their rude throated noises become his summer lullabies.<br /><br /><strong>When twelve years</strong> older, the boy will meet with much<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Injustice;</span><br />All quality, pride and circumstance becomes counterfeit.<br />The narrow line of ambition fails with unlucky deeds;<br />Faith nailed down hard to a well-worn place can yet be lost.<br /><br /><strong>In solitude,</strong> with tranquil mind, fate recovers the gentle skill<br />Of three silent virtues felt along the heart of the man,<br />Immortal richness greater than the tribute of all his tribe.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2009 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=9803" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:9429
XXIV. Lightened by one alone
2009-06-24T18:47:20Z
2009-11-11T23:28:07Z
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0
<span style="color:#425300;">In the gyre eclipsed of the Age of the Shielded Immaltant:</span><br /><br /><strong>The congregated powers</strong> of heaven's antique empire,<br />Built on eldest faith, tainted by cruelty, stained by blood,<br />Will make garden cities into a lampless unpeopled world<br />Lightened by one alone, whose fierce reproach and<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Reluctant prayer</span><br />Hurls up a tinge of gray in the void world.<br /><br /><strong>Thirty witnesses</strong> will return, with thirty infants,<br />Nameless vagrant dwellers in houseless woods<br />Walled with witchcraft and flower-inwoven jasper,<br />Green to the very door of the long absence.<br /><br /><strong>Seven common names</strong> of the unextinguished fire,<br />Stamped onto the frame of twelve windows in one form,<br />Usurp the codex vigilans of the unremembered throne.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: Verdana;">Copyright © 2009 Eirene Kuanyin Skadhi</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=9429" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:8582
XXIII: Books of a feather-robed sage
2009-05-31T20:15:26Z
2009-06-25T15:42:17Z
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<span style="color:#336600;">In the sixth gyre of the Age of Four Wandering Moons:</span><br /><br /><strong>A new mood</strong> stirs under those yellow leafed boughs<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Which shake</span><br />Within the impressed abstraction of scrolls from<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">Both 17th centuries.</span><br />A spring of words overflows the closest drawn goal in steel—<br />Poetry generated in a wide range of free-given street noise,<br />Raising delicate hopes for the strength of the resolved city.<br /><br /><strong>The first two</strong> lines of the books of a feather-robed sage<br />Written on a thousand rolls of silk kept for all good:<br />Elusive time immediately experienced is frequently unfair.<br />Question or believe, but light travels slowly within the grave.<br /><br /><strong>From the tale</strong> of the count who has not yet named a successor:<br />The countess arrays her daughter in her most resplendent robes<br />Clear-cut as laquered satin, gently shaped as the lining of<br /><span style="color:#B51A27;">A seashell.</span><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=8582" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments
tag:dreamwidth.org,2009-05-28:392456:3718
The Chosen Wolves
2008-04-23T21:05:54Z
2009-05-31T19:31:39Z
public
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I first thought words like "phinnaft" and "diumalk" were words from some kind of angel-language. The Lorwolm let me labor under that assumption for quite a while, until one day I asked Nihr Avna-attu about it. That's the way they work, they're not big on long explanations. If I want to know the details, I have to ask a specific question. Nihr Avna-attu informed me that there is no angel-language, that angels use mortal languages when they need to speak. Different angels know different languages; Nihr Avna-attu knows twenty-seven human languages, although he/she might have learned more since he/she told me that fact. Any particular situation will usually dictate their choice of language; for example, there would be no point in speaking to me in anything but English.<br /><br />The Lorwolm give me words like phinnaft and na-awult (words from the future, from a language that will be called Bruyeil-Pacifican) because these words come from languages that will be spoken by the people who will be able to decode and understand the ecteiroglyphs. These people will be the true prophets of the Lorwolm, called the Alleiliosek in Uru-nauwi, another future-language. Which means the Chosen Wolves, but you must understand that they are not chosen by God or any Entity, they will choose themselves.<br /><br />The next question I asked was the obvious one: if the Alleiliosek will be speaking Uru-nauwi or Bruyeil-Pacifican, shouldn't I be writing the ecteiroglyphs in those languages? <br /><br />Nihr Avna-attu's answer to that?<br /><br />"No."<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=lorwolm&ditemid=3718" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments