Fic of sorts.
Mar. 30th, 2012 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alas_a_llamaSo, in a fit of worldbuilding, I ended up planning out a thirteen story book of legends for Prieo's world.
Then I drafted the first one, the Book of Paradise. It's a very rough first draft that I probably won't ever redraft.
The first three lines are from canon.
Once there was happiness,
Dreams and love in their true forms,
But there is a gap between reality and illusion.
In the beginning, there was Death, who is also called Peace.
(Translator's Note: In the old Makai Script, 'Death' can be alternately translated as 'Peace' and 'Gentleness'. Other legends have Death as not the first thing in the universe, but as the daughter of Peace and Sorrow, whom she then reaped. - LF.)
Seeking a companion, Death wandered the void, travelling a long journey across emptiness. But everywhere she went there was nothing, only the great emptiness. Slowly, Death began to lose hope – for even she was not immune to the passage of time, and she knew she would die soon.
On her final day, when age had wracked her body and broken her back, she stumbled upon a lifeless rock. She had never seen anything like it before, a clump of stone within the void, the only thing apart from herself to exist.
Death could travel no more. She set herself down on the rock, and carved into its surface her hopes and dreams, everything she had longed for, everything she had hoped to admire, everything she had wished to hate. She described the visions that visited her when she slept, and their echoes when she was awake.
Then, Death lay down on the rock. Her bones became the mountains; her sweat and tears became the seas and rivers; her last breath formed the sky and the clouds. Her flesh became the earth, and grass sprouted upon it; her hair became the trees; her eyes became the Sun and the Moon.
From her last words were born Grace the White, to whom it is given to protect and provide sanctuary; and Gajari the Red, to whom it is given to purge impurities. Her blood ran from her body, and where it touched the earth it became all animals that dwell on the land, where it touched the water it became the fish, where it touched the sky it became the birds. But where the blood touched Grace and Gajari, it became humans.
(Translator's Note: The script is unclear on this matter - an alternate translation would be that Grace and Gajari touched it, creating humans, casting them in an active role as creators. This seems at odds with their roles as depicted in legend, however. - LF.)
Of all animals, humans were different. Born in Death’s image, they alone were gifted with the potential for everything she had dreamed of, and everything she had feared. Grace and Gajari gave them ownership of Paradise, and then retired to either side of the planet.
They gave them but one rule: Upon the Dark Mountain there is the last remnant of Death, a single tooth in a pool of her blood. That must never be disturbed.
For years, all was peaceful and harmonious. But the humans began to fear death, and what lay beyond life.
One day, they climbed the White Mountain and spoke to Grace.
“Grace, you have given us sanctuary, and all that we might need to eat, be sheltered, and prosper – but we cannot enjoy it. It passes too soon, and we must burn the dead, whom we had loved,” they said, “we ask that you grant us life eternal.”
Grace refused them. “A life that is eternal is a life that has no meaning. What purpose is there to shelter, to food, to love and dreams, if you have all of eternity to grow weary of them?”
So the humans left. That year, there came the first Winter. The old and young amongst them perished in the cold, and their crops withered and died. When the cold passed and Spring returned again, the humans burned more people than they had ever needed to burn before.
Knowing that Grace would not give them what they sought, they climbed the Red Mountain and spoke to Gajari.
“Gajari, you have burned the malignancy from our bodies, the poison from the earth and the darkness from the sky. You have scorched all that would mask the beauty of the world so that we may see it more clearly. But our bodies wither from within, and we must take our own to the flames to rid ourselves of their husks,” they said, “we ask that you grant us life eternal.”
Gajari refused them. “A life that is eternal is a life that turns to wastefulness. When you have wearied of a pure world, you will turn yourselves to corruption. You will poison your soil, your livestock, your air and when that is not enough you will poison yourselves, and when you cannot poison yourselves any more, you will turn upon your brothers and sisters and devour them. What purpose is to a world of beauty and peace if you will set it alight to pass a few more hours?”
So the humans left. That year came disease. Their cattle and livestock died, and from there the sickness spread to the humans, wasting their bodies and clouding their minds. The hale and the strong were not immune – even they would fall under the thrall of the sickness. When the sickness passed, they burnt their farming men with their cattle in great, blackened heaps.
Refused by their gods, they approached their companions next. They asked the animals, but they refused, saying “If you have eternal life, you shall multiply without end, and you shall prey upon us until there are none left, and your life shall be our death.” They asked the plants, but they refused, saying “If you have eternal life, you shall expand your towns and villages. You shall tear us apart for our flesh, sculpt us into more pleasing forms, eat us to fuel your workers, and your life shall be our death.”
That year came war. Brother turned on brother, child turned on parent, friend turned on friend. For the first time, weapons were forged to hunt people instead of animals. They met first on the great plains and flats, and on the coasts and beaches, and in the forests and valleys, and killed until the ground was obscured by the bodies and the waters were red. They met second in the towns and villages, slaughtering those who would fight and abusing those who would not, burning the houses to the ground.
(Translator's Note: In later editions of the text, this section is absent. It was believed it contradicted known doctrine. - LF.
If Priest Fudou might keep his opinions to himself, it would be appreciated. - RL.)
When the fighting was over, the humans went forth to the Dark Mountain, that lies beyond the Deep Woods. They climbed it to where, in the cratered peak, Death’s blood had pooled about a single tooth. The fang lay embedded in the centre, where it had fallen, forbidden for any to disturb.
One by one, the thirteen humans there pooled their own blood into a bowl, and suffused it with spices and precious dusts as an offering. They crossed the lake to the tooth and offered their blood to it, pouring it down upon it.
Tooth mingled with blood mingled with blood again, and from this aberration arose the third god, and the Mother of Horrors, and she was called Messiah the Pale.
“Messiah, we birthed you from ourselves. From our blood, from the precious things of this land, from Death’s own tooth and vitae we have created you. As we are slaves to Death, forever doomed to wither and die, and for our husks to be burned, so you are slave to us, bound to our desires. So,” they said, “we ask that you grant us life eternal.”
Messiah smiled at them, and one by one she kissed the foreheads of all thirteen of them. “I will happily grant what you ask.”
So it was that Paradise ended.
-Continued in the Book of Splintering.-
So. Yes. The intent, somewhat, in writing this was to create a sense both an idolisation of Death, and to in a way cast Grace and Gajari as quite morally ambiguous. So yis.
Oh, and Grace, Gajari and Messiah are all canon characters, obviously.
The translator's notes were a last minute addition. 'RL' is Priest Latus, Leo's direct superior in canon, and a complete douche.
Then I drafted the first one, the Book of Paradise. It's a very rough first draft that I probably won't ever redraft.
The first three lines are from canon.
Once there was happiness,
Dreams and love in their true forms,
But there is a gap between reality and illusion.
In the beginning, there was Death, who is also called Peace.
(Translator's Note: In the old Makai Script, 'Death' can be alternately translated as 'Peace' and 'Gentleness'. Other legends have Death as not the first thing in the universe, but as the daughter of Peace and Sorrow, whom she then reaped. - LF.)
Seeking a companion, Death wandered the void, travelling a long journey across emptiness. But everywhere she went there was nothing, only the great emptiness. Slowly, Death began to lose hope – for even she was not immune to the passage of time, and she knew she would die soon.
On her final day, when age had wracked her body and broken her back, she stumbled upon a lifeless rock. She had never seen anything like it before, a clump of stone within the void, the only thing apart from herself to exist.
Death could travel no more. She set herself down on the rock, and carved into its surface her hopes and dreams, everything she had longed for, everything she had hoped to admire, everything she had wished to hate. She described the visions that visited her when she slept, and their echoes when she was awake.
Then, Death lay down on the rock. Her bones became the mountains; her sweat and tears became the seas and rivers; her last breath formed the sky and the clouds. Her flesh became the earth, and grass sprouted upon it; her hair became the trees; her eyes became the Sun and the Moon.
From her last words were born Grace the White, to whom it is given to protect and provide sanctuary; and Gajari the Red, to whom it is given to purge impurities. Her blood ran from her body, and where it touched the earth it became all animals that dwell on the land, where it touched the water it became the fish, where it touched the sky it became the birds. But where the blood touched Grace and Gajari, it became humans.
(Translator's Note: The script is unclear on this matter - an alternate translation would be that Grace and Gajari touched it, creating humans, casting them in an active role as creators. This seems at odds with their roles as depicted in legend, however. - LF.)
Of all animals, humans were different. Born in Death’s image, they alone were gifted with the potential for everything she had dreamed of, and everything she had feared. Grace and Gajari gave them ownership of Paradise, and then retired to either side of the planet.
They gave them but one rule: Upon the Dark Mountain there is the last remnant of Death, a single tooth in a pool of her blood. That must never be disturbed.
For years, all was peaceful and harmonious. But the humans began to fear death, and what lay beyond life.
One day, they climbed the White Mountain and spoke to Grace.
“Grace, you have given us sanctuary, and all that we might need to eat, be sheltered, and prosper – but we cannot enjoy it. It passes too soon, and we must burn the dead, whom we had loved,” they said, “we ask that you grant us life eternal.”
Grace refused them. “A life that is eternal is a life that has no meaning. What purpose is there to shelter, to food, to love and dreams, if you have all of eternity to grow weary of them?”
So the humans left. That year, there came the first Winter. The old and young amongst them perished in the cold, and their crops withered and died. When the cold passed and Spring returned again, the humans burned more people than they had ever needed to burn before.
Knowing that Grace would not give them what they sought, they climbed the Red Mountain and spoke to Gajari.
“Gajari, you have burned the malignancy from our bodies, the poison from the earth and the darkness from the sky. You have scorched all that would mask the beauty of the world so that we may see it more clearly. But our bodies wither from within, and we must take our own to the flames to rid ourselves of their husks,” they said, “we ask that you grant us life eternal.”
Gajari refused them. “A life that is eternal is a life that turns to wastefulness. When you have wearied of a pure world, you will turn yourselves to corruption. You will poison your soil, your livestock, your air and when that is not enough you will poison yourselves, and when you cannot poison yourselves any more, you will turn upon your brothers and sisters and devour them. What purpose is to a world of beauty and peace if you will set it alight to pass a few more hours?”
So the humans left. That year came disease. Their cattle and livestock died, and from there the sickness spread to the humans, wasting their bodies and clouding their minds. The hale and the strong were not immune – even they would fall under the thrall of the sickness. When the sickness passed, they burnt their farming men with their cattle in great, blackened heaps.
Refused by their gods, they approached their companions next. They asked the animals, but they refused, saying “If you have eternal life, you shall multiply without end, and you shall prey upon us until there are none left, and your life shall be our death.” They asked the plants, but they refused, saying “If you have eternal life, you shall expand your towns and villages. You shall tear us apart for our flesh, sculpt us into more pleasing forms, eat us to fuel your workers, and your life shall be our death.”
That year came war. Brother turned on brother, child turned on parent, friend turned on friend. For the first time, weapons were forged to hunt people instead of animals. They met first on the great plains and flats, and on the coasts and beaches, and in the forests and valleys, and killed until the ground was obscured by the bodies and the waters were red. They met second in the towns and villages, slaughtering those who would fight and abusing those who would not, burning the houses to the ground.
(Translator's Note: In later editions of the text, this section is absent. It was believed it contradicted known doctrine. - LF.
If Priest Fudou might keep his opinions to himself, it would be appreciated. - RL.)
When the fighting was over, the humans went forth to the Dark Mountain, that lies beyond the Deep Woods. They climbed it to where, in the cratered peak, Death’s blood had pooled about a single tooth. The fang lay embedded in the centre, where it had fallen, forbidden for any to disturb.
One by one, the thirteen humans there pooled their own blood into a bowl, and suffused it with spices and precious dusts as an offering. They crossed the lake to the tooth and offered their blood to it, pouring it down upon it.
Tooth mingled with blood mingled with blood again, and from this aberration arose the third god, and the Mother of Horrors, and she was called Messiah the Pale.
“Messiah, we birthed you from ourselves. From our blood, from the precious things of this land, from Death’s own tooth and vitae we have created you. As we are slaves to Death, forever doomed to wither and die, and for our husks to be burned, so you are slave to us, bound to our desires. So,” they said, “we ask that you grant us life eternal.”
Messiah smiled at them, and one by one she kissed the foreheads of all thirteen of them. “I will happily grant what you ask.”
So it was that Paradise ended.
So. Yes. The intent, somewhat, in writing this was to create a sense both an idolisation of Death, and to in a way cast Grace and Gajari as quite morally ambiguous. So yis.
Oh, and Grace, Gajari and Messiah are all canon characters, obviously.
The translator's notes were a last minute addition. 'RL' is Priest Latus, Leo's direct superior in canon, and a complete douche.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-30 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-30 02:26 am (UTC)I am on a bit of a roll with this, somewhat. There may be a Book of Splintering showing up in the next few days.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-30 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-30 06:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 01:34 pm (UTC)That's good - getting the voice down for it was a little difficult (and is turning out somewhat more difficult as I write the Book of Splintering, so we'll see how that goes), because having that kind of lyrical, religious text-ish kind of quality was arguably the most important thing for it.