#aelleid

[nitr09-productions]

A very curious philosophy on the nature of community can be found in the writings of the Great Þewek River People of the planet Raega, a culture made up of the planet’s (now extinct) native Raegini species. The Þewekini lived an agrarian lifestyle along the river deltas, and depended on the Erow (meaning “great white silt”; a type of especially fertile soil fed by volcanic nutrients at the river’s source) to grow bountiful crops.   The Þewekini believed at the core of their very being that all common folk are exactly the same; regardless of species, gender, age, or religion. All common folk are bound together by a series of universal experiences related to the material reality in which they live, and a mutual struggle for survival. These experiences were embodied within the concept of the Erowek (Meaning “silt born” or “child of the land.”), a sort of universal archetypal figure that appeared in bucolic myths, fables, and morality plays. The Erowek worried about the next time she’d be able to put bread and meat on the table. The Erowek sowed her seeds and then gathered her crops. The Erowek chopped firewood when it was cold, and wove fans when it was hot. The Erowek grieved for her dead and hoped for her brood. Every common person was the Erowek, and the Erowek was every common person. Her struggle was the struggle that existed within everyone. It was this concept of the Erowek that allowed the Þewekini to avoid the trappings of many other civilisations of its size and nature. There was no stratified system of societal hierarchy, very little conflict or colonialism, and (despite evidence of different racial, religious, and social groups within the civilisation) virtually no intergroup tension. This was due to the curious attitude the Þewekini had towards the wielding of societal power. The Þewekini term for a king or leader was “Iraþ Erowek Orællin”, meaning “they who have slain the Erowek within.” To wield power over another was to kill an essential part of oneself; severing a person from the universal narrative of shared survival. To sow division by declaring one person higher or more significant than anyone else was akin to an act of blasphemy, and very few of these leader figures ever saw success in the culture. Instead, the culture was governed by regular conferences wherein every voice would be heard. Though records suggest that these conferences could grow impassioned and chaotic, they were always conducted with the baseline assumption that every living being had both the same material wants and needs, and the divine inborn right to have those needs filled.

Just a bit of lore that I’m working on for SYBAE that I’m not sure if I’m including yet. One of the ‘found family’ cast (who I’ve barely gotten around to introducing) is Iriet Orios Erowek Ælleid (or just Ælleid for short), the endling of the Raegini species. Their culture is very deep, but largely lost, and I quite like the idea of one of their names deriving from the concept of a sort of deified common man. 

[nitr09-productions]

Opinions On This SYBAE lore idea?

So the SYBAE universe is incredibly developed, but a lot of the lore is only really set dressing for the story. I have a piece of lore that I'm considering making central to a certain character's motivation, but I'm concerned it's potentially triggering to some people, and I'm not sure how sensitively I have handled it.

So this character here is called Ælleid, and they are a Raegini. The Raegini are a marsupial species inspired by Tasmanian Devils and (mainly) the extinct Thylacine. Ælleid themself is heavily inspired by Benjamin, the last Thylacine to be held in captivity.

They reproduce in a similar way to Tasmanian Devils; giving birth to a dozen or so tiny and partially-developed young that are put in the pouch to continue developing. The only problem is that there are far more babies than milk ducts in the pouch, and the majority of the litter simply starves to death. Here's a photo of baby Tasmanian Devils so you can see the kind of thing I'm talking about.

In Raegini culture, these tiny newborns are considered more empty vessels than true people, and an individual isn't considered fully born until they've finished developing in the pouch (i.e: basically grown to roughly the size of a human newborn).

But the Raegini do not want to thoughtlessly discard these young. They are heavily invested in their magical traditions, and believe that these empty vessels can be given souls through praying to them; filling them with hopes and dreams and intentions. They are mummified, sewn into special dolls, and given as protective charms to the surviving siblings. These are spirit siblings, and they vaguely resemble the cat mummies from Ancient Egypt, only far smaller.

They essentially act as spiritual guardians to the sibling as they grow. They are also laid to rest with an individual upon their death, and an individual's bond with their spirit sibling is considered just as close as the bond they have with their living siblings.

I don't want to spoil too much of the story, but some time before it starts the Raegini were invaded by aggressive alien invaders. These invaders stole all of their posessions and put them in museums, twisting and misinterpreting their uses to make the Raegini look bad. Ælleid's spirit sibling is being held in a museum against their will, and they want them back. Ælleid's spirit sibling is a full person and essential part of their life, and it's very painful that they've been separated.

An important note is that Raegini spirituality is actually essential to the upkeep of society and the planet's ecosystem, some of it boiling down to precise science. The invader's insistence that their way is the only right way will actually lead to an impending downfall (not spoiling that though).

The worry is that this plot point is potentially triggering to people who have suffered miscarriages or infant loss, especially since I've heard of a real world practice similar to this done with cremated remains in teddy bears, and I'm not sure if the subject is handled sensitively enough to soften the impact of that. I could easily change the story so Ælleid wants to retrieve a normal doll instead, though that might lessen the plotpoint's value in the story. I haven't got this part of the story written yet, and I'd like some pointers on how to handle it correctly.

[nitr09-productions]

You jail Ælleid?!? You put Ælleid in the cage like the beast?!? You put Ælleid in the muzzle like the dog?!? Oh! Oh! Death to frog people! Death to frog people one thousand year!!!

[nitr09-productions]

It was late at night, or at least it was by whatever odd rhythm the Arrow Of Ta-Muxrex judged things upon, and Tracey couldn't sleep. She'd tossed and turned for hours in her bunk to no avail. Sleep wouldn't come. Worse still, she couldn't do a whole lot of anything else either. She'd tried listening to whatever was on the comwaves, but all she could find was a dry debate between politicians she'd unsurprisingly never heard of. She'd even tried drawing, but her heart just wasn't in it. Every line just seemed to come out wrong, and the stress wasn't worth it. It was with a heavy heart that she begrudgingly accepted the all-nighter fate had in store for her. She’d been hoping to get a good night’s sleep, but those hopes had been dashed like a fishing boat on the rocks after a storm. She crept out of her bunk and into the living area in the hopes of snagging something to eat: perhaps a cup of what she reluctantly had to pretend was tea, or a stray slice of that nice cake they’d all had yesterday. But before she could do as much as shuffle into her fluffy pink slippers, a voice rang out flatly from the darkness. “Tracey.” They said. “Can’t you sleep?” It was Ælleid. They were sat on a beanbag chair in the darkness, positioned at such an angle that Tracey couldn’t quite figure out how they’d been recognized unless the strange vulpine being had a secret second pair of eyes directly on the back of their head. “Come, sit with me for a while.” Ælleid continued, their voice unwavering and as smooth as honey. "Oh…" She responded, heading into the darkness. "Ok then." Tracey approached to see Ælleid in a rather strange position. They'd dragged the beanbag chair to just a few feet from the television, so close that their long muzzle was almost smooshed up against it. The device was on, but completely muted; all Ælleid appeared to be doing was despondently flicking through channels as their ears flicked in annoyance. They were shirtless, the dancing coloured light of the television bouncing off of their golden fur like the twinkle of ocean waves at sunset. There were many dark patches across Ælleid's back, strange shadowy crevices in the shape of lightning bolts. It took a moment for Tracey to identify them, but once she did she found herself giving a little involuntary gasp.   They were scars, far deeper and more numerous than the ones on their face. Stripped of their reflective golden fur, they appeared as black chasms in the darkness. Ælleid gave a snort of irritation. "Sit." They instructed, stern and severe. Tracey swiftly found themselves obeying, pulling up a beanbag and perching on it under the flickering light of the TV screen. "I wouldn't bother with the TV if I were you. Nothing comprehensible really." She said. "It's all Greek to me." Ælleid turned to them in confusion, their brows furrowed. "Don't worry about it. Just a turn of phrase from where I'm from." She continued, waving a dismissive hand. Ælleid paused their furious channel surfing for a moment, shifting in their seat. "Like words on the beaks of birds." They replied, before quickly resuming their compulsive flitting. "I'm sorry?" "What we said where I'm from." Ælleid explained.  "Something unknown to you. Something that doesn't make sense unless you work to understand it. Like your Greek."   "Ah. That makes sense." And that was how it was for another awkward minute, just Ælleid and Tracey sat together in the near-silence of the night. It wasn't a comfortable quiet, and Tracey thought she ought to break it, but soon found herself beaten to the punch. "It's not that I can't sleep if that is what you're thinking." Ælleid said, shattering the silence with such sharp precision that it almost made Tracey jump. "I wasn't thinking anything." She replied. It felt as if she was apologizing, though for what perceived slight she didn't rightly know. "I rise when I rise and I fall when I fall." Ælleid announced, eyes immovably fixated on the screen. "I'm not a prisoner to anyone anymore, not even to day and night." Tracey reclined in her seat. "I never thought of it like that, or at least not since I was five and hated my bedtime." Finally stopping their channel surf, Ælleid settled for what appeared to be a news channel, the silenced presenters appearing to mouth nothing against their colourful background. "Is that how you choose to live then, Tracey?" They asked, head tilting. "A slave to conventions that go against your own body." She responded with a tired huff. "I don't know. It's too late for this talk.

Just a very unpolished little character interaction thing that I may or may not put in the book. I had to cut it off here because the discussion soon veers into spoilery territory. 

 Things aren’t looking too good on the “I’m not a furry” front, but I promise you the Ælleid being shirtless thing isn’t supposed to be taken ‘like that’. It’s supposed to represent their ownership and acceptance of past trauma as just a part of themself, and not something to be ashamed of. 

[nitr09-productions]

I tried to draw Ælleid (a character from my novel who I haven’t introduced yet but proves to be important later). They’re surprisingly hard to draw, and it’s really hard to get them to look how I see them in my head, especially their facial scars.