having terminal narwhal brainrot is kinda the worst actually bc. sometimes my brain just gets Stuck on all these tiny things and observations that are Very Funny Indeed but also like. i have no actual clue whether its Intended to be significant at all in terms of implication or if im just losing it but its rent free either way and its not going away like. take this one for a completely coincidental example i definitely havent had swirling around my head rent free for like the last 3 weeks nopers no way uhhhhh
so act I of fontaine AQ right???? first narwhal mentions we get from childe in the story???
"it" right?? which like fine yeah makes sense. mysterious massive eldritch sea creature wouldnt consider that out of place for a choice of pronoun. in no small part prolly due to ajax just taking after skirk in terms of how she refers to and views the narwhal. its not rly carrying any connotation of personhood and/or sentience purely in terms of the language used
Now. if its such an unsurprising choice. why am i fixated on this
WELL. lets say purely hypothetically. wouldnt it be like. really funny if after Multiple languages. explicitly went for a non-human moniker when it comes to childe speaking about the narwhal. that he would then like. possibly. the Second they make actual direct and personal telepathic connection with one another. pull a complete 180 on that. in like act III mayhaps
"someone" calling him??????
Like. isnt it Interesting. that he went from "it". to IMMEDIATELY assigning explicit personhood to whatever originated that whalesong call.
Its telepathic connection. Right??? like these mfs are Literally in each others heads. right??? and yet. Somehow. PURELY off of that call that single moment of fleeting impression and feeling that gravitational pull towards one another. youre Instinctively assigning sentience personhood and character to that voice. Huh
(so based and narwhalpilled ajax i knew you were a truther and an ally)
and like what makes me fixate on this so much and not just go oh its prolly nothing is just. they didnt HAVE to write it that way right??? they couldve made it "something calling me..." . or even for intentional ambiguity something like "i hear a call somewhere..." . but Nooooooo its. someone. they made ajax go from "it" to "someone". in the exact span it took for him to make direct metaphysical contact with his narwhal.
obviously like. yes ive made my case against the "lmao dumb pet that overeats" misconception Many Times Before for obvious reasons bc thats My beloved and theres Plenty enough canon material even excluding this one to very much suggest the narwhal is indeed a fully sentient immortal being capable of complex thought i just. for ajax of all people to seemingly note that so instinctively the moment they make contact as well............
yeah let me scream real quick thanks im just. HHHHHHHHHH these 2 kill me irl
and NO its not just english i triple checked. like first i checked german and that shit goes from es/etwas to jemand. non-human to explicitly person-specific
(beyond the obvious. whale as a masculine noun)
& then w chinese obviously not a speaker but i took the same lines from project ambr, got the translation and pinyin with google and as long as im not missing sth huge and/or wikipedia isnt lying about how chinese pronouns work. its explicitly non-human 3rd person to very much person-specific interrogative "who" too.
so like. that sure is a very specific and curious choice to make with the writing. multiple times. in multiple languages. when there very much were Multiple very easy ways to write it Not in such a way. for the one (1) guy with undeniably the closest and most personal bond to the narwhal. to say That. in response to its call. its just a little bit of an inch resting detail to have. just a bit
yeah ajax mister im actually going to need you to explain this one to the class as well in addition to all the OTHER shit you have the audacity to spew thanks
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"Why are you still up?"
You peel your eyes away from your phone and make eye contact with Eight, who's looking at you curled in on yourself on the couch with no small amount of worry, and a good helping of exasperation, too.
"Waiting. What if Four needs me."
"You can't help him like that. What if they need you tomorrow and you're too tired to help because you stayed up all night?"
"I-- I'll still help, no matter what."
You keep making glances back down at your phone during this conversation, as if there'll suddenly be a text from your friend at any moment, asking for you to come to his rescue, that your phone somehow didn't notify you of.
"Don't do that, you're going to drive yourself crazy."
Eight steps closer towards you and offers you a hand.
"Come on. We're going to bed."
You begin to reach out, then waver. "What if he needs me and I'm sleeping."
"Your ringer is on. And I messaged them too, so if you don't answer they can call me. Come on," she repeats, gesturing her hand towards you once more, then adding, a whisper, "You know I can't just let you do this to yourself."
You know she didn't mean it like that, but the way she says it makes guilt well up inside you.
"'M sorry," you whisper back, and take their hand.
You practically cling onto Eight as she leads you into the bedroom, only removing yourself from them to sit on the bed. Her fingers linger on your hand for a moment, then pull away.
"I actually got up to use the restroom, I'll be right back. Get comfy." And then she's gone.
You don't get comfy. You can't help it; you're drawn back to obsessively checking your phone for any sign of a message that obviously isn't there, even going so far as drafting a message to Marie asking if she's heard from Four when Eight returns.
"Three," they say from the door, and then move closer. "I said stop that." Fingers under your chin gently tilt your head upward to meet her gaze, and then she kisses you, long and soft, and despite your worry, you melt into it.
Her hand moves to caress your cheek, and it takes several long moments for her to begin to slowly pull away. When she does, you realize it's not only your lips that are empty, but also your hands. Eight makes their way around to their own side of the bed, your phone in hand.
"You absolute siren," you say affectionately. "I need that."
"No," she says as she settles into bed, placing your phone next to hers on her nightstand. "I'll keep tabs for you. Two phones means twice the chance to be woken up if Four calls."
She takes your shoulder and coaxes you to lay down next to her, then hugs you close to herself.
"Your job is to sleep now."
And somehow, despite being absolutely fucking sick with anxiety, with the love of your life holding you close and caressing your hair, your eyes eventually slip closed, and you do manage to do the job you've been assigned.
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