#pathside

[richs-pics]

Paths-side fungi

[voidcat]

Do u think they’ll permanently kill off the heirs + anaxa? :(

HI ANON!!!! to put it shortly i think it's a yes and no: not the best example but similar to the case of Misha/Mikhail Char Legwork (and maybe tingyun;/fugue in the case of some others)

considering the aeons that look over amphoreus (remembrance with its lightcones and memories, destruction with its pathsiders who have a tricky relationship with "death" and erudition with the simulated universe and its inorganic origins) & the similarities the world and its various elements seems to be having to genshin's tevyat, i am suspecting the world to be stuck in a cycle--

like how tevyat is stuck in a cycle of samsara and relives events over and over again (the abyss twin telling us to reach the end of our journey, our various encounters proving/showing us that we are following in the steps of the abyssal twin: ie: aranaras talking about this "golden nara")

my suspicions come from dreams tribbie and mydeimos had of their own mothers-- how the mother figures' voices were not mere memories but lead them forward- and how we accompanied tribbie's past self before she was divided into three- a space time anomaly. the place tribbie says that they reach at the end of their journey / or in the afterlife- a field of flowers, how she crafts a ship that carries them all over etc... from tribbie side of descriptions and visuals, simulanka from 2024's summer event in genshin (the ship, how its used to go to and from another world, the train tracks etc) resembles the ship she crafts to travel across amphoreus to spread the prophecy and see who else will join the cause.

considering summer events are always a big foreshadowing before the new nation in genshin (and i didnt say it here but one thing i'll always hand it over to genshin impact is how their foreshadowing is always a hit), simulanka coming before natlan, the reveal of the broken moon and broken simulation like sky that gives visual proof to the fake sky-- while all hoyo games are going forward with the "hoyoversing" as of late; i do find the coincidences/similarities between tevyat (esp simulanka visuals as of most recent) and amphoreus to be more than just a mere coincidence.

sure, they've been getting lazy and reusing same models for new characters but when it comes to the storytelling part of things esp with visuals, it's never just a mere coincidence. (i couldnt find the images i had in mind as of now but if youve played both games i hope you somewhat think of what i had in mind^^)

these as well as that field we see trinnon and tribbie's mother to stand over looking a bit too much like that field of intevyat flowers (native to khaenriah) that was the destination goal of the twins (the sea of flowers at the end)-- and how tribbie describes that afterlife-like place to be "the end of a journey", i do think, while for the sake of the story the characters will die- but in essence they wont.

sadly i didn't play enough hi3 to support my case with the flame chasers and elysian realm but, i believe amphoreus to be in a simulation-like state of sorts- not fully artificial like tevyat, but both equally isolated from the rest of the universe. so deaths there are not true deaths so long as their "simcards" / "souls" / whatever energy source they each have at their cores with their written "data" remains. to summarize hi3's elysian realm and flame chasers, the members of MANTIS' memories and feelings were all stored there, technically as simulations for a better lack of a word and it the end their data chips were erased/destroyed. (ig su can be an exception bc iirc he has entered a void/space that hasn't been found by anyone in aeons-- to quote the wiki:

as of now, though he can observe the entire galaxy he has lost his material body and only exists spiritually. hence, me calling him an exception.

enough of genshin and hi3 side of things but another hsr thing. spoiler alert in case you haven't done that world quest in the grove where you're basically asked to retrace the footsteps of flame reaver but when you do and finish it, this is the name of the achievement you get. the whole point of the quest is that it implies flame reaver knows the layout of the grove- that he was possibly there before. it also knows about mydei's weak spot (something he told only to phainon)

spoiler alert in terms of leaks ahead: but it is said that flame reaver is phainon. with these so far, it is most likely that the flame reaver is a past/different version of phainon and the one as we know is the current one of the timeline/cycle.

i know i did ramble a lot but considering fuli/remembrance being one of the residing paths/aeons over amphoreus, it does remind me of misha/mikhail char legwork (how misha is basically a memetic entity of his memories/dreams. a reflection of his youth and his ambitions to explore/to sail. in some ways, black swan's actions wouldn't fully fit into penacony quest but with amphoreus coming right after and it being accessible through the garden of recollection's mirror, i think part of her role was to serve as a preview for amphoreus as a whole) and that's why i think they are in a simulation-like state / trapped in a memory/mirror that rewinds/replays over and over--

(there are some say the reason TB hadn't died when castorice toucher them was because while arriving amphoreus, they also entered a memory chyrsalis like state by fuli's hands too / in a between life and death state of stagnance) we have more quests to go with but perhaps one phainon/kevin broke free or gained sentinence and is trying to destroy/break free of the cycle right now. the ongoing cycle state of the world might be a stellaron too- or maybe the world has entered a state of repetition as to protect it from the destruction/harm of stellaron's instability. i believe it's still too early to speculate further or reach a certain conclusion but what remains are the parallels between the "multiverse" and the undeniable connection of flame reaver and kevin which i think hints at an ongoing cycle / a stimulated world.

so yes, they will die, but not in the literal sense. and not unless their cores/souls are destroyed / their flames are put out in the process (as was the case with mikhail).

[engagemythrusters]

white kittey in a little straw hat tied with a dark ribbon, selling you blackberries in a little homemade pathside stand

[unkn0wnvariable]

Pathside Bluebells

Up close with the bluebells alongside the path, in Short Wood.

[aisphotostuff]

Oare Village Kent Coastal Path.. by Adam Swaine Via Flickr: The June sunshine is uncomfortably warm. The air is clear, the light bright and wind dead. The boats that line the narrow creek are a picture, most wrapped up for the winter. Redshanks and egrets forage on the mudflats; house sparrows in the pathside hips and haws along with blackbirds and reed buntings.

[harrison-abbott]

The dog had gone.

The other person in the house was watching TV in their room. Didn’t matter what was on.

It’d been hot in the house all day because the heating was on, despite it being fifteen degrees outside.

There was a cat yowling in mad sagging intervals out in the garden.

The news on the radio bulletin focused on some berserk random crazy story from the capital 800 miles away.

The carpets were still fucked up from the party from last weekend.

But the birthday stat hadn’t changed anything else in the household.

The garden was abrim with real proper colours that seemed to dissuade matters like global heating; the blueness of the pretty lil flowers in the garden under the kitchen windowsill, blue as comicbook blue skies, blue as the Pacific Ocean in classic movies … perfect in hue.

And up along the supermarket path there already seemed that gaudy breath of summer, with the mix of pollen and the rash bold greenery of the weeds mixed untamed by the pathside.

The supermarket car park was only an eight full.

Kids from the local estates clung to the metal bars that hosted the trolleys.

And the bins were all stuffed up with dog shit bags and bottles and plastic.

On the skyline the sad giant skyrises that were built in the 1960s.

They were ugly beauties indeed, with their orange caps and their overweight sucking

Of the twilight sunshine.

The supermarket was filled with young folks who tended to remind him how old he

Was getting every time he looked at them; the boys as well as the odd pretty girl.

There was a hazy delirium about the supermarket.

Had been here a hundred times and it seemed like a woozy dream coming here at

This time of the evening.

Even the security guard seemed sleepy.

Everything was cheap, the items he bought, except the beer, and only the beer

For being in crates, and poorly beer at that. Meh, shrug, whatever, hey ho.

The girl who had to approve him being over 18 years had these fake painted

Fingernails. Multicoloured nails. And she had a nice body even though her face

Was okay. And she went and spoke to one of her colleagues after serving you.

Again – there was that jealousy of youth as you packed your things into your

Bag and headed off home.

Back in the world there was a wide sense of forgetfulness. Perhaps a sense of

Surprise, also, that you had been here for so long – for most of your life – and

That you often were a waif walking about these parts of the suburb.

The ugly/pretty giants in the background didn’t matter so much in the modern

Age. All you remember of them was playing football when you were a kid nearby

Them. Or, heading along to that library, and the man glaring at you from his car

Because he didn’t recognise you as part of this neighbourhood. Or, you went a

Few times to your brother’s mate’s house who lived near there and the mate loved

Your brother but hated you because you were so different. And they would eat

Chicken pizza and you nothing because you didn’t eat chicken, and they would

Watch zombie movies upstairs and you sat downstairs because you were too

Afraid of the gore and didn’t want to watch. …

All these kinds of memories in a simple stretch of a city, the back gardens of a city.

And you did indeed walk back home. Earlier on you had seen the mysterious neighbour

Who had to walk on a zimmer frame these days because of his history of alcohol.

Presumably he was back home now. And then there were the other family who

Lived next door who were selling their home because their only son had committed

Suicide last year; they wanted to move up north to the city where they were

Originally from in order to try and cope with the grief of it all.

And then there was the boisterous man from across the street who had

Failed to sell his own house around ten years back and he was still here.

Still here in this weird little island of a community which did not belong

To a cathedral or politics or district of even a commune.

It was just what is was; pulsing in actuality, with the coming season of Summer.

[syringavulgaris]

Jane Hirshfield, Like the Small Hole by the Path-Side Something Lives In

[clatterbane]

Pathside Geranium sanguineum, 11 June 2022.

[crazyfox-archives]

Looking into a small pathside sanctum dedicated to Kōshin faith (庚申信仰) involving all-night festivities & rites held every 60 days to prevent one’s three internal supernatural parasites from snitching on one’s misdeeds to the heavenly bureaucracy, situated along the steps up to Hachiman Jinja Shrine (八幡神社) in Owase, Mie Prefecture

Photo by ToM, April 2019

[coffeebirbsdarkacademia]

You thought the happiness would appear simply, without effort or any kind of work, like a bird call or a pathside flower

Margaret Atwood, from Your Children Cut Their Hands...... in, “The Door” 

[fibreofbeing]

You thought the happiness would appear simply, without effort or any kind of work, like a bird call or a pathside flower

Margaret Atwood, from Your Children cut their hands... in "The Door"

[aisphotostuff]

Oare Village Kent Coastal Path.. by Adam Swaine Via Flickr: The November sunshine is uncomfortably warm. The air is clear, the light bright and wind dead. The boats that line the narrow creek are a picture, most wrapped up for the winter. Redshanks and egrets forage on the mudflats; house sparrows in the pathside hips and haws along with blackbirds and reed buntings.

[tadpal]

hiya tad!! you're cute. miss u :)) ur existence is a gift and remembering u exist makes me happy - cute anon

hello friend! you've missed me? but im always here! i missed u! i went on this walk in the woods and i kept finding dogroses growing on the pathsides - which my all time favourite flower! i love how simple and easy they are - and there were all these bushes that were so incredibly green! there are so many shades of green that you can only see in the sunlight you know? anyway i was sat and i was reading and i thought of you there. your existence makes me happy too

[polymathemadraws]

Denizens of the Pathside (WRA)

[dk-thrive]

like a bird call or a pathside flower

You thought the happiness would appear simply, without effort or any kind of work,

like a bird call or a pathside flower

- Margaret Atwood, from “Your Children Cut Their Hands…in “The Door” (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Apr 2, 2009) (via Schonwieder)

[listing-to-port]

Sunday chain #31

1. Beyond the high heath and the black rocks and and the oak forest where the white hart runs there is a mossy tower, and the mossy tower is full of time. There are travellers who make this journey every day, recieving at the end of their journey another day of time, and in this way have lived for hundreds of years.

2. The paths taken by these travellers have over time taken on the appearance of tunnels, worn deep into the earth and roofed over with brambles. In the autumn, the deer of that place walk through the tunnels eating blackberries, until they are quite stained purple. And at times the hunt finds them there, and on these days sometimes the travellers must miss a day, and grow a day older.

3. The days the travellers lose are dropped as pebbles by the pathside. That place is far from the sea now, but it has the sea in its future. And, having an uneasy relationship with time, there are nights sometimes when the ghost of a great black wave passes through the forest, jostling the pebbles together and sweeping them down into the crevices and caves of the black rocks, and from there down the river to the sea.

4. The river flows very slowly and you would not think that it has eaten all the things that it has. It has consumed all the things that can be swept off by a time-dislocated sea; it has eaten nightmares, days, hope and the chains that keep hope close bound. It has taken rowan-twigs and the bruised sloes that lie rotting on the ground. Time and time again it has taken the confused ghost of the earthworm in the blackbird's beak and made of it a gilded thread in the depths.

5. When those worm-ghosts reach the bottom of the sea, elderly mermaids gather them in baskets to spin into cloth of gold to sell in the markets down there. It is hard to see across the market-depths because clouds of silt make everything seem as if it is in a thick fog, so the ghost-sellers gather at the market's entrance and each pretend to be the only one there that day. Sometimes they fight, and then other, less humanoid merthings sneak in and steal their produce.

6. The stolen cloth is used to make nets that catch memories as the drift from the heads of sentient beings. They are, of course, most often used at sea; but sometimes a storm will tear the nets loose from their moorings and they will wash up on this or that dock and catch memories without meaning to. Without anyone to empty them, the nets usually become full. People who come to clear them up may suddenly find themselves with memories of being under the sea; which, by and by, they come to reconcile to themselves as dreams.

7. There are buildings that are built out of dreams and out of all the spare spaces that dreams generate; and, of course, once having convinced themselves that they dream of underwater rooms, dreamers began to do so for real. And so those rooms made it into the vast dream-mansions of the sleeping world. They gathered themselves together, clumping with dream physics into a kind of submerged basement.

8. The rumour spread through dreams that there had been a promised land down there, a place that had been cursed for its perfection by drowning. And so the explorers of dreams, of whom there are many, invested in dream-snorkels and in the sort of nightly imaginings in which they could breathe water and in performance slumbering accessories and they went down to look for its perfect fragments. Consumed by their search, they spent more and more time asleep. Indeed, many of them were caught in endless tunnels or locked themselves in underwater dream-closets or forgot that they were in dreams at all and fell asleep a second and deeper time.

9. In this way the explorers of dreams lost many years. But, in time, the rumour came to those of them that remained awake that there was a mossy tower from which one could gather time. Those who told the explorers did not realise that the future had already come. The sea had risen in earnest, or the land had fallen. The tower lay in a brackish lake. But this was for the explorers of dreams much like coming home, and they came to the hollow paths like old friends who had met many years before; and if the circle of their motion was not perfect, they did not much mind it.