[Excepts] Moments In Time - Dialogues

[Excepts] Moments in Time - Dialogues

[moments in time was my old document of random writings i did for pathologic, looser than my current works in between streams of the gorkhon. these dialogues don't mean much to me but they may be interesting to someone out there]

"How does one cope with their failures?" "I suppose one should let it go and move on, so as to not be dragged down by past mistakes." "But what if such failures had yet to happen?" "Then one would not need to worry about them." "You have a point. An exceedingly simple point that I don’t completely agree with, but nonetheless..."

~+~

"You both choose to lend credence to only what you arbitrarily believe to be possible, refusing to accept what you’ve witnessed of me before your own eyes. How is following Lines and observing microorganisms more believable than miracles of which you’ve experienced firsthand? You speak of a town that does not listen to reason and yet go on to complain when it is your reason that’s shunned, while being samely unjust in disregarding my own work, which you deem impossible by virtue of your own ignorance. You fear that which you cannot explain, just as the townsfolk do, and that is the difference between us."

~+~

"It seems you live up to your reputation, both good and bad. How goes it, Ripper? Divining any answers from the entrails you spill?" "Is this about that name you presented me with? Regardless, it’s unsafe to wander the streets so late at night, little Changeling." "Better the streets than the alleyways, wouldn’t you agree? And besides, the most dangerous thing wandering the pavement is undoubtedly you." "I concede to you that, but I may not be for long. You remain in danger of greeting the lesser evils anyway, my presence changes little. I cannot scare away all the dangers with my mere being, and even that does little to dissuade desperate bandits." "In the end, my smaller stature may be more advantageous to me than your bulk, then. I blend with the shadows that you cast, the light reveals you as it hides me. Even the biggest bull with the sharpest horns may be slaughtered if caught unawares, but prairie mice hide in his shadow. Careful you don’t fall victim to a butcher who cuts your pockets just as you cut flesh now." "Your concern touches me, little mouse. I promise I won’t be long in my work. Do try to keep safe yourself."

~+~

"Changeling. Care to explain what I just witnessed?" "What needs explaining to you, oh dandy Bachelor?" "You’ve killed a man without touching him. I want to know how." "I can do miracles. I’ve stated as such many times. The work of my hands does not limit itself to healing." "Would you cease toying with me? This is serious. One cannot simply wave their hand at a bandit and walk away unscathed. What did you do?" "Why even accost me and ask such things in the dead of night if you refuse to believe in what I say and what you saw? Your logic no longer serves you here, if it only leads you to disbelieve what you witness with your own eyes." "What you tell me just happened cannot happen. It’s an impossibility. I must understand how it came to be." "There are things you must learn to cease trying to understand, Bachelor. Especially since it’s so convenient to you to dismiss me as fiction but stare at the Polyhedron as fact. You choose to enrapture yourself only with wonders which serve you, and scorn those of others." "You cannot deny what is true and blur it with falsities. There is only one truth, what you speak of is opinion. Your opinion is that you perform miracles, when in fact you cannot explain rationally the acts you claim as your doing." "And how can you be so certain that what you see as truth isn’t only your opinion masquerading as empirical, as you men of logic call it. You have no leg to stand on." "I have no time to debate this with a child in the middle of the night. Go back to your nest and keep out of the way, street rat." "Better an honest street rat than a slithery snake poisoned by its own venom and conceit."

~+~

"Oynon. Put that thing down, you’ll hurt yourself." "Are you sure of that? Or are you only afraid of me deeming you worthy of a bullet in you as well?" "It seems we both forsake the hippocratic oath. I wonder why you choose to wander at night shooting at any shadow that so much as moves the wrong way." "Is there such a thing as a shadow moving the right way? Regardless, I do not owe you any explanation. I need only say I was in the right to defend myself." "A shadow must always move to accompany its source, I thought you’d be aware of that. Walking at night is not an activity I’d advise you partake in, not if you value your life and your purse." "It figures this town would consider brutes and savages as commonplace as rats. It’s a wonder you didn’t succumb to bandits far earlier than this plague business. Even the children partake in gang activity. What else, will you loot the corpse of its organs just as he had taken the few valuables in this house? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were indeed a butcher just like your kin folk." "Don’t forget I learned part of my practice in your capital, emshen. The only difference is context. I’d say you couldn’t possibly understand the reasons which motivate me to do what I do, but you could attempt to comprehend. Alas, you refuse to."

~+~

"If you were to choose a finger of mine to cut off, which would you?" "What sort of absurd hypothetical are you presenting to me?" "I’m only curious, Bachelor, lighten up. Besides, it’s merely a simple hypothetical. Indulge me this once, you dull man." "Why insult me if you wish for my cooperation, then. Regardless, which is your dominant hand?" "I’m ambidextrous." "Well, then I suppose this one, if I were to choose." "My right little finger? How come?" "It’s expendable and out of the way, hardly noteworthy if you were to lose it. You wouldn’t miss it and would retain use of the hand." "Ah, I suppose if one can hold a teacup without such a finger it is superfluous, then." "Quite, if you want to put it that way. I only ask that if you’re to lose a finger as punishment for theft, you not come to me seeking help, Changeling." "What a brutal practice. Is it common?" "Cutting limbs as punishment for crimes is a barbaric and antiquated concept, however, I wouldn’t put it past this town." "I was asking of your blatant disregard for my health and safety, actually."

~+~

"You know a great deal about the human body, yes? If I were to request you to cut off one of my fingers, which would you favor?" "Is this a jab at my infamy as the Ripper? I’ve not left any corpses fingerless, Clara." "Oh no, it’s merely a thought exercise. Humor me." "You’ve been spending too much time with Dankovsky and his theoretical rambling. Still, I’ll answer. You’re ambidextrous, right?" "Yes, how’d you guess?" "It’s observable. In that case, pragmatism dictates the left ring finger go." "How so?" "The world favors right-handed people, and the ring finger cannot move independently from the others anyway. Most importantly, the wound would be at less risk of infection or reopening due to carelessness or nerve damage. If one were to cut the little finger, it’d be fairly unavoidable to bump it against surfaces callously, especially if the stub becomes numb. It leads to ease of infection, soreness, and brittle bones. As well that losing it would cripple your grip strength more than the ring finger. "Oh, how thoughtful of you to consider my long-term comfort. I am a menkhu, a surgeon. My priority is my patients’ health and safety. That being said, try to keep out of trouble, Clara. If you’re hurt, you can come to me for help." "You’re kinder than a saint, Haruspex. I would know, I am one."

~+~

"Stop looking at me like that. " "Like what?" "Like you know everything. It's unsettling and unbecoming." "What if I do know everything? Might I look like this then?" "It's impossible, one does not and cannot know everything, least of all you." "Well, I don't know what I don't know, therefore I know everything. It's simple logic, as you'd say." "That's a childish sentiment."

~+~

"A raven is very similar to a writing desk, if you think about it." "How in the world are those two things even remotely similar?" "Well, they both exist, for one. That's a very specific thing that unites them." "Many things don't exist. Unicorns and dragons don't. fairies, mermaids, demons, angels. A fairy has more in common with a raven than the writing desk." "Ah, but think of a fairy. As a concept, it exists. As an observable thing? Many illustrations or statues depict fairies. Perhaps one cannot prove or disprove the existence of living creature fairies, that much is true. Still, the fairy exists." "A raven and a writing desk are still far too dissimilar. One is alive and one is an object, for one." "I never specified the raven to still be living. Perhaps it is dead and taxidermied. Stuffed, if you will. And a desk is only a dead tree mutilated beyond recognition, anyway, so it was once alive as well.  I still hesitate to believe your assessment that they are at all similar.  I would propose to you then to think of something that does not exist. Not a concept that can only live on as words and feelings, not lofty and unreachable ideals, but the true non-existent. The ideal equivalent of a new color, unfathomable. Take then, that feeling, the vague idea of what does not exist, and compare it to a raven and a writing desk. What you see is that they are far more alike than such a thing that does not exist." "What I find does not exist is the point of this conversation, Changeling. You have proven nothing to me so frivolously. It was a fruitless use of time."

is the world really such a terrible place? yesterday i asked if oat milk was extra and the barista said yes so i said ok just regular milk then and when she gave me my chai latte she whispered “i used oat milk ;)” doesnt that make u want to live another day?

Favorite pre spiderverse 2 memes that turned out to be true

[Excerpts] Moments in Time - Changeling Fixes Scissors

[based on that rumor that the changeling could fix anything with just her hands, a little exploration of faith-based powers through the lens of inevitablity/preconception]

Of all the latent talents she was told she possessed, the ability to unlock doors and fix sharp objects simply by laying her hands over them was news to her. She masked her surprise and fixed the Bachelor with a look she’d carefully crafted to unsettle people. Well, the look itself was just her face as it was at rest normally, but directed at someone for a long time. It worked well on those who mocked, just as the Bachelor had prior.

“Would you like me to show you?” a bluff. The Changeling didn’t think she’d fail to perform the act, just that she didn’t think she’d be able to hide her surprise and glee at doing it successfully, which would only fuel the Bachelor’s mockery of a teenage girl. She could remember a distant memory of an event that was yet to happen, him sneering at her triumphant expression and mocking how even she didn’t expect her own miracles to work.

“No, I have more pressing matters to attend to that aren’t watching parlor tricks performed by a pickpocket proficient in sleight of hand and pilfering purses.” a success, if a minor one.

~+~

She tailed the Haruspex to his lair one day, for no good reason other than boredom and curiosity at his affairs. Regardless, she slipped behind him as he opened the door, bringing a finger to her lips as the Wonder Bull looked on, with eyes too intelligent to be trusted. She would request the bull for his silence, so that he would not tell on her to the Ripper, and if that was a strange thing to do, one would take it up with her and her bovine accomplice. When it lowered its head in acquiescence, she drew herself into the large man’s shadow, almost as if it were where she was meant to be all along.

With a slouch such as Burakh’s, she almost feared he’d see her hand slip into his pocket, but she was only his shadow, an extension of him, so she grasped the broken scissors inside and tallied that a success when he moved inside the door with nary a whisper of cloth when she pulled away.

The Lair was dark, as most buildings were at dusk in the town, but it smelled of dirt instead of dust, layered with the sharp and spiced scents of twyre, and underneath it all was the sharper tang of blood. She was only dimly registering the Ripper removing his smock and pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to slouch over a desk as she sat on a crate soundlessly. 

Clara ran her fingers over the rusty pieces of a tailor’s scissors, not a dent on the blades and yellowed at the handle; she could doubtlessly resonate with the emotional significance of the object, cherished by its previous owner. Besides the Haruspex, that is. She hummed, immersed in her thoughts, only to be wrenched out of them by a curse muttered in a language she was familiar with, yet could not begin to understand.

Looking up, her gaze connected with Burakh’s, who was still cursing under his breath and leaning away from her. Funny, such a big man would keep his voice so low even in his own home. Or, the closest thing he had to one.

“Hell, Clara, you can’t just sneak into places like that, you’ll get hurt someday.” He said that with the voice of someone who’d had to give such advice previously. It seems the children he associated with were most, if not all, ardent home invaders looking for trouble they could not handle if they found it.

“I’d wager you’re most likely to hurt yourself when I inevitably surprise you again. I advise you to get used to it, wouldn’t want to have a heart attack next time.” She quipped, holding a scissor blade in each hand. Two halves of a whole, yet layered together, they would not look exactly the same, similar to a pair of hands. 

She noted him muttering “next time, of course.” with a voice of resigned acceptance. “What brings you here, anyway?” he looked to her hands, fingers drifting slightly to the smock laid on the back of a nearby chair. “Did you… pilfer those from my pockets?”

The Changeling looked to the metal pieces, then back up to him, kicking her feet on the box she sat on. “Temporarily. Think of it as borrowing, if you’d like. Actually, I’m doing you a stellar favor, my dear Haruspex! I will fix these scissors before your eyes, just you wait.”

He looked apprehensive, and she could sense a near future, a present where he told her sternly, but not unkindly, not to play with scissors. And yet, that path was no more right before her eyes, like fading mist, as he only motioned for her to go on, perhaps knowing his advice would go unheeded. 

With a wink, she drew his attention to her face, hiding the slight shake of her hand as she clasped the two halves of the tool, the weapon, this mundane instrument, between her cooled fingers, muttering prayers she knew were mostly only for show. The rough grit of rust stained her digits as she felt, like all her miracles prior to this, the capacity of it burden her mind lightly. Just as she knew the truth in her premonitions, she knew at this moment she would fix the broken thing she held. It would happen just as the sun rose and as the water of the Ghorkhon ran, it was the natural course of things.

As she unclasped her gloved hands, she was met with a pair of scissors, rusted and old, but united, as they should be. Pride unfurled in her core, a victorious smile turning smug as she looked up to face the Haruspex. He looked as impassive as ever, if one were to only look superficially, but his eyebrows were raised and his hands flexed, as if testing his lucidity or imagining the tool fixing itself in his own palm. He puffed out a breath, slightly shaking his head.

“It seems I’ve witnessed a miracle once again. I hope you didn’t cut yourself while performing it, little Changeling.” and she almost bristled at the title, yet he said it with a levity only achieved by a man such as Burakh. They say anything can sound an insult if said the right way (or the wrong way, for that matter), but the Haruspex seemed to be able to do the opposite, making soothing and affectionate terms out of words once borne of mockery and cruelty. His kindness was nice, but uncomfortable, like a hand-me-down sweater too big for her.

Clara chose only to say “So you’ve bought the Wonder Bull now, what have you decided to call it this time around? I can never remember. Was it Noukher?” and his confusion was more familiar than whatever he had expressed previously. She appreciated kindness, but much preferred to vex others.

i'm putting together a folder of set designs for the named kids + some NPCs variations so i can reuse them and i'm kinda intrigued by dandy's hair. i'm trying to figure out what it's reminding me of.

I'm so mad at Elon Musk that I'm actively going through all my Tumblr posts and retroactively sorting them in tags because i know I'll be using the good hellsite more now that the bad one is nigh unusable and I've heard of the wonders of sorting a blog's posts by tag

resulting from that is my writing being tagged ZapphAtext and my art being ZartAttack because i use social media to amuse myself. my reblogs will also get tags since I'm bored at the airport