#tarballfeatherparade

[lothli]

This is a chapter release post for An Unmaking. Today's chapter is "Consumi ab Ipso," which is a spoiler. I will include the meaning and reasoning in the Read More.

Other than that, I finally have my PC again. Just one day before Christmas Eve, although it took until today to actually get up and running.

Now, "Consumi ab Ipso" means "Consumed by Oneself." This applies to two of our characters today. First is Donovan, who, filled with hubris, taunted our Edge Long to her face. Only Fia's presence saved him from being devoured entirely.

Next is Fia herself, who is consumed by her own empathy. If it were only up to her, she would absolutely sacrifice herself to rid the city of the Millstone.

Such is the life of Long. Powerful, but only so much so. Thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking.

[lothli]

An Unmaking: Masterlist

World is heavily based on the world of Weather Factory's games, Cultist Simulator and Book of Hours, and does not necessarily strive for 100% accuracy.

An Unmaking is an independent work and is not affiliated with Weather Factory Ltd, Secret Histories, or any related official content. It is published under Weather Factory’s Sixth History Community Licence.

Available on AO3 and Spacebattles. Rough drafts are available on my subreddit. Read at your own risk.

There used to be links here, but to be honest, posting serialized works on Tumblr is exhausting. I recommend Ao3 if you want to read.

[lothli]

This is a chapter release for An Unmaking.

I was in between jobs for a moment, but all is fine now.

Unfortunately, I am still too exhausted to make a full commentary post. Apologies.

As always, thank you for reading, and I hope the delay does not sour your enjoyment.

[lothli]

About the Depiction of Hours

This is a chapter update post for An Unmaking, so as always, spoiler warning for today's chapter.

Today, we have the first appearance of an Hour in the Wake. I don't think this is canon-supported in any way; the most an Hour has influenced the Wake in the two video games, from my understanding, is limited to their shadow.

However, I think it would be a little silly to restrict the Hours to the Mansus wholesale. If one of the Hours decided that whatever was happening in the Wake was important enough to personally interfere, I believe there wouldn't be anything to stop them besides another Hour.

And somehow, I doubt the Wolf Divided would be generous enough to save one of his followers.

Another point that I've tried to stick to is that Hours do not communicate in basic English. The Wolf Divided communicated in manic visions, and the Twins did not speak to begin with. They had no need to.

In my mind, the only Hours even capable of human speech are the ones from flesh, and even still, they'd probably prefer their own methods of communication regardless.

I hope that my depiction of the Hours is satisfactory. They're probably the most difficult to write, with the most rewritten scenes, even if they barely appear compared to the Long of the story.

Thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking.

[lothli]

About the Moth

Another chapter posted means another Thought to post here.

I don't have anything in-depth to cover for today's chapter other than the fun fact that our protagonist's guardian is an Illuminated One from one of the base Cultist Simulator starts who achieved a Major Lantern victory.

Instead, I will cover my Moth-tilted inspiration: a Vocaloid MV titled アブノーマリティ・ダンシンガール, or Abnormality Dancin' Girl in English. Subtitled video here.

CW: Suicidal theming.

Although the motif here is a butterfly instead of a moth, I believe the lyrics and general mood here can parallel an overtaking of Moth that leads to one's perilous fall.

The protagonist begins stuck in the mundane, yearning to be something more. She is overtaken by "abnormality" before shedding her ordinary clothes to become something more. Throughout the MV, various background symbols indicate her final fate: suicide. A yearner too overtaken by Moth, one who perilously yearned for more.

Perhaps in those final moments, she found what she was looking for. Perhaps what she left behind was not a corpse but a shell.

Now, this is not an endorsement of suicidal ideation or suicide in general. But Moth itself is a Principle deeply linked with suicide; the core imagery of it are moths that immolate themselves within a candle's flame, after all.

This is simply another way of looking at things.

But as always, venerate your Principles in moderation. Don't let the yearning take you to somewhere you cannot return.

An Unmaking will return sometime this week. Wednesday if I remember, or later if I forget.

[lothli]

About Names

Names in the world of the Secret Histories are powerful things. After all, Names are powerful beings who serve directly under the gods. It is no small wonder that even for lesser beings, immortal or not, that names could carry weight.

At this point in An Unmaking, our protagonist has not truly claimed a name for herself yet. She has been named Fenris, and yes, that was an important moment for her as well. But the day when she has to accept that name, or any other, has yet to come.

Lykos, the Puma. The first named character in the story, with both the Moth Long and Winter Long leaving themselves unintroduced. His full name is stated in his introduction, demonstrating an openness that neither Long before showed. Yet, our protagonist refused to acknowledge that name — not until his final moment.

Now, we come to the Long that was finally named in these recent chapters. Iaspide's been an interesting character so far, more of a passive observer, unlike the other Long, who have shaped our protagonist's journey much more actively. But with her name comes her start in the spotlight. I hope you all will enjoy her in the chapters to come.

Finally, Fia, the Long who refused to remain simply just a Long. She, too, introduced herself with her name, but unlike Lykos, she refused to be dehumanized, so to speak, by our protagonist. Up to this point, she has categorically refused to address Long or any other creature of the Invisible Arts by name, but Fia denies her this. And maybe that's just what she needs.

Thank you to all of the readers of An Unmaking. I'll post one of these while I still have things to say for every chapter release.

[lothli]

About Fia

This is a chapter release post for An Unmaking. Today's chapter is "Misericordiae Euthanasiae," or "Merciful Euthanasia".

This marks the end of Fia's mini arc, convincing Fenris to truly try and take on the mantle of an Hour. I hope that you all enjoyed.

I forgot to press "Send" yesterday when I posted this chapter, so this addendum comes a day late. Thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking.

So, who is Fia?

She is a catalyst for change for Fenris, a reason to keep existing despite the eternal agony of her division.

She is the Heart of the party: an endlessly enduring protector of the innocent. One who is strong not through violence, but innocence.

She is one who embodies a child, but who has long lost the ability to claim that title for herself.

I expected to have more to say about her, but ultimately, I think that Fia speaks for herself. I think that is a sign of the strength of her character, in the end.

Please do let me know if you have any thoughts to add.

[lothli]

Snow

I smell her, I sense her, I crave her.

My claws, steel and razor sharp, cleave through flesh and bone. They gouge into rock and strike sparks, scraping and shrieking.

Blood and gore splatter my face, my chest, and I rejoice at the warmth. Every drop is a prize, a badge of honor.

She cannot hide from me. She cannot run. I can track her across mountains and valleys and vast oceans. There is no place in this universe that will keep her safe from me.

I was sharpened by those who do not care for me. Those who collar me, who control me, and who use my power to further their own ends. I will kill anyone they ask me to. And I will revel in every death.

Because that is what they created me to do.

My hackles rise. She is close.

I reach out, my nerves aching to tear into her. She is larger than I, she is cold than I, and the infidels would say she is stronger than I. But they are wrong.

They will learn this, soon enough.

She stands on a ledge above a great lake, staring out at a horizon of mist and stone. A forest of towering pine trees rises up behind her. Their pointed tops stretch for the heavens, yearning for things that will ever be beyond their reach.

The scent of pine is sweet and sharp, and the needles beneath my wolf-fours stir ancient memories.

"They truly sent you after me," she murmurs, the words carrying through the trees to my keen ears. "I am glad it was you."

She turns to face me, and her eyes, silver and ancient and knowing, meet mine.

She does not cower. She does not flee.

I respect that. But it will not save her.

"I will pray for your soul, Hound. You who are chained to those who will never know what you truly are."

My lip curls. I do not want her prayers. I want her blood.

Her wings snap open, great feathered things that stretch for the skies. She rises, the power rippling from her like a storm's shockwave.

Snow begins to fall.

The silence has begun.

-------

I circle, the snow coating my furred shoulders. My muscles are tense, and I long to sink my teeth into her. To feel the warmth of her blood on my lips. To taste her power on my tongue as I crush her between my jaws.

But I cannot fly. And she is above me. It is a challenge. It is an irritation.

"Will you not speak to me, Hound?" she asks. "Do not tell me they have taken this from you, too."

I snarl, the sound deep and guttural. A warning.

"You have a voice. They gave you one so you can always choose to call them Master." Her lip curls. "But I am not like them, Hound. I will not ask you to bow to me."

I ignore her words. They are meaningless to me. My claws rip into the soft bark of a pine tree. The scent is sweet, the sap sticky as it clings to the steel of my claws.

I leap from tree to tree, climbing higher and higher as she watches, her head tilted in curiosity.

I will reach her.

"Hound," she murmurs. "You are magnificent. A beauty of a beast. A woman twisted into something inhuman, but not something less."

I leap from the top of the tallest tree, and my jaws open, prepared to strike. I can almost feel the way her bones will crack beneath my teeth. Can almost taste her blood on my tongue. Can almost hear her heart when it stops.

I have never failed. And I will not begin today.

She moves at the last moment, and I plummet, crashing through the branches and colliding with the earth. But I was not built to feel pain.

I am on my fours in an instant, my breath huffing out in clouds of white in front of me. My blood pounds in my veins. She is a worthy adversary, and this will be a glorious battle.

The snow falls faster. It piles at our feet, clinging to my fur and her wings. She is white and blue and silver. A creature of winter. I am gray and black and crimson. A creature of division.

The snow thickens until she is almost lost to me, a mere shadow in a world of ice and snow. I can still smell her. Her power is like a void, a great silence that threatens to overwhelm. But I will not be silent. I will not be still.

"We were born of the same power, Hound. You must realize this. We could be sisters in arms. We could be so much more. What did they call me? Experiment 9: Angel?"

I circle the clearing, hunting her through the snow. I can smell her as she monologues, her scent rich and ripe.

I will have her. Soon.

"They are the true monsters," she continues. "Infusing us with things beyond their ken. And when we are done, they will discard us. But we could be more. We could be a new species. A better species. One not corrupted by their greed."

I move through the trees, the branches whipping at me. I can feel the snow thickening. The air feels charged. My skin tingles, my nerves prickle. Something is coming.

She drops to the earth, and her wings send up a spray of snow. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

She looks at me, and there is sadness in those ancient eyes. A sadness that makes my hackles rise and my nerves twitch. The scent of ozone. Something is wrong.

"But not you."

The sky cracks open, and lightning streaks across the clouds, bright and terrible.

"You will forever be their Hound."

The lightning strikes me, and the pain is like nothing I have experienced before.

I can feel my heart. It shudders. It stutters. It stops.

-------

But does an immortal die simply because her heart stops?

No.

The electricity is gone, but it has left a mark. A scar across my mind and body and heart.

My body has moved while my mind was away. There is blood on my left claw, and the Angel is wounded. Her side is gaping, her blue blood spilling across the snow and steaming.

It is beautiful.

The silence begins to crack. What is lost may yet be found.

That is what the cold whispers.

The pain is fading. The snow has stopped. And my heart beats anew.

The Angel's eyes are wide, and her breath comes in shuddering gasps. "Even still... you do not have the decency to die."

My lip curls. "You... are I."

My voice sounds strange in this world of snow and trees. As if it does not belong. Perhaps it does not.

She shudders, and blood spills down her chin. "You finally speak. And you finally see... or perhaps you knew all along."

Of course I did. But I do not have to answer her. She was like me, but I was the one who was made stronger. I was the one who was made to endure. I am their weapon.

I will always be their weapon.

"And why does that make you happy?" she asks, as if she can read the thoughts in my mind. "What have they done to earn that devotion?"

Her wings drag in the snow. She is weakening. It will not be long now.

"I will tell you a story, Hound. Because you are the only one who can listen. The only one who can bear witness." I let her speak, because she is mine. I sit upon my haunches, my claws dripping, and I wait for her to tell her story.

"They took me. They took you. They took all of us and twisted us into things we were never meant to become. Who did you see when you were reborn, Hound? I saw a bird, masked and cold. I saw a hermit, one who is never cruel, who always remembers. That is who I saw and who I embody. Who did you see? It was the wolf, was it not? That awful, painful creature, always hungry, never sated. Always longing, never content."

She is not wrong. But I do not answer.

"He will remember me, you know," she says, her eyes soft and far away. "And you. He will remember all of us, the ones whose lives were stolen by the greed of those who do not care." Her breath rattles, and her eyes meet mine. "I pray that one day, you are remembered, too. One day, you will find your peace, and you will be free of them."

Her breath stills, and the silence is broken. My claws close around her silent heart. It is a prize, one that I hold in my teeth as I walk away. I do not look back. She is nothing to me.

I will take her heart to the Masters, and it will earn me praise and a warm fire. Perhaps a bit of raw meat, if I am lucky.

But her words linger in my mind.

Perhaps one day, I will be free of them.

It is a strange thought. One I have never contemplated before.

Because I do not think I ever want to be free of them.

I will always be their Hound.

[lothli]

About lothli

I did an introductory post, once. But I suppose that didn't tell you much about the person on the other side of the blog. It was not an introduction.

This is an introduction.

I am tar, ball, and feather. This blog is my parade.

What does it mean to be tar? It is difficult to describe, but I suppose in the end, it is something deeply ironic. It is the laughter that bubbles up within you even as you shed genuine tears. It is the loneliness you feel among your closest friends, the distance that separates them even when they stand right next to you.

What does it mean to be ball? Again, it is difficult to describe, but I think it is something beautiful in its perfection, something infinite within a finite space. This is not to say I am perfect; after all, while I may be ball, I am also tar. The purity will always be underscored by that one little imperfection, and that imperfection is everything.

What does it mean to be feather? I am a feathered creature, and I am bird-like. Am I a bird? I think of myself as a flighty, jumpy thing, but does that make me a bird? No, in the same way that a plucked chicken is not a human. But I call myself a bird sometimes, because it is the easiest word for what I want to mean. I am not a bird, not really, but I am a feathered thing.

Why is the blog a parade? That, I think, is the simplest answer, for a blog is far less complex than I. This is a parade of one, and you, my readers, will be the audience. It is a parade of one's self. You will see who I am without ever seeing me, without ever touching me, without ever meeting me, you will see that I am tar and ball and feather.

But that will come in time. For now, we are strangers, and we ought to introduce ourselves. I have introduced myself. You are next. In my comments, in your reblogs, in my DMs, in my ask box, in my dreams, I do hope to learn more about everyone who has stumbled upon me, in all of my tar, ball, and feather.

[lothli]

This is a chapter release post for An Unmaking. Today's chapter is "Res Cordis," or "Matters of the Heart."

This marks the beginning of a small arc for Fia. I'm curious as to how you guys' perceptions of her will change before and after this arc of hers.

I'll include a more comprehensive post on my thoughts on Fia after this arc is concluded. Thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking.

[lothli]

About The Moth

This is a chapter release post for An Unmaking. Today's chapter is "Quod Vetus Desiderium," meaning "That Old Desire" or "That Old Yearning".

I strongly dislike the idea of writing dialogue in simple, bare English for beings such as the Hours. Some of my readers might have noticed how I skirt around dialogue when the Hours are present on the page; this is a convention that I have broken in this chapter simply because it would have been far too convoluted otherwise.

I do believe a few Hours are capable of communicating in simple mortal languages. Most of the Gods-From-Flesh could probably deign do so, as their mortal pasts may be retained in some small form. But for some of the oldest, basest Hours, such as the Moth, the Grail, and the Horned Axe, I strongly believe that they are utterly incapable of such, not that they would ever do wish to do so.

Thus, the 'dialogue' of the Moth is wrung out through a mental challenge that is barely understandable. Even still, this dialogue is never spoken, but instead simply conveyed. Unfortunately, for the sake of a written story, it must be written down in English.

Regardless, I hope this iteration of the Moth tickles your fancy. As one of the most popular Principles, I wish to get its eponymous Hour well-represented.

Thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking.

[lothli]

This is a chapter release for An Unmaking.

"Molae" is "Millstone". A fairly obvious title this time around.

I have much to say about the Millstone, but such things will have to wait until it has left the pages of this story. For now, I will let you in on a bit of inaccuracy that I've decided to leave in.

Due to the lack of cheap refrigeration, ice cream would most likely not have been available for public sale in the Cultist Simulator era.

But having Fia give our Fangy-Wangy a sharp little treat is worth bending our suspension of disbelief a little bit, no?

Thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking.

[lothli]

Inhuman After All - Chapter 5: Deuce

This is a chapter release post for Inhuman After All. I was having issues with the linked post format, so I have reached this compromise instead.

This is the first chapter of a new arc. The previous chapters were simply setting up the setting, but now we begin to explore Eve's new home.

Thank you, as always, for reading Inhuman After All.

[lothli]

This is a chapter release post for An Unmaking. Today's chapter is "Bombus Paradoxus," which has dual meanings. It could be translated as "A Buzzing Paradox" or "A Paradoxical Bombshell," both of which refer to the words that Doptera conveyed to Fenris as she prepared to leave.

Happy New Years, and as always, thank you for reading An Unmaking.

[lothli]

A new intermission for An Unmaking has been released. I am testing out the Link format of submissions, but I'm not quite sure I like it; while I may be announcing a new chapter, I quite like titling my About series as such. These posts are not just about chapter releases, after all.

But this is a test, as well as a simple intermission release. I don't have much to say about it, as I'd already covered the importance of names in About Names.

Other than that, thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking. To cover for the fact that intermissions are quite lacking in content compared to full chapters, I will maybe post a writing prompt or something in the coming days.

[lothli]

This is a chapter release post for An Unmaking. Today's chapter is "Novi et Vetus Socii," or "New and Old Friends."

Unfortunately, I will be moving house tomorrow and will be without a computer for around a week, so I won't be able to update any of my fics for a bit.

Thank you, as always, for reading An Unmaking.