SynthWayve
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“C’mon. Don’t make me guess,” half-plea, half-tease, idling with his shot glass as a cat would to a mouse. Here, now, Robert is a man of halves in hopes to combine and make a whole; he is half a robot, half a boy, half an office-worker and army-soldier, half-lidded in the eyes and even more so when he notices the effect it has on Herman, on how he can get what he wants.
(He is new to this game. Getting what he wants. Herman has never even played.)
Or; A man divides himself over the sum of his mechanical god.
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“Do not put ice on a burn wound. Ice may decrease blood flow to the area, reversing the healing process. Ice may also inflict temperature shock, resulting in scarring. Instead, acclimate the wound with cool (not cold) water, then bandage.”He’s seventeen when he first learns that you’re not supposed to put ice on a burn. That it’s too big of a temperature shock. That it’ll scar. That he became Mecha-Man too quickly, too soon, tried to be too much of a hero right after, that he could fuck up again and again and the people would still believe in him.
Or, Mecha-Man was always going to die young.
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There was a story about covering oneself with mud and mould, because a human hand is far too costly, rare precious pearl of a thing. Stewing a creature in its own juices is alchemy all the same. I am the shape you made me. Filth teaches filth.
Filth teaches filth.
So then, brilliant one, what will you teach me?
(Or, correspondences between young scholars)
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The concept of a day has long since melted. One thousand and six hundred celsius. One thousand eight hundred and three in kelvin. Reformed, it goes for around forty kuruş, barely tuppence here.
Ceramic neither absorbs nor imparts flavor. The gods don’t much care for your choice in the matter.You have had your fill of both gold and misery. Now, you will learn to love the taste of nothing.
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Micolash has a night to ruminate to himself about everything that’s led him to his place as the provost of The School of Mensis
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They do not see it — the haze, the blurriness of time — but feel it creeping down their necks, clawlike. Young things happen fast upon each other; writhe, tenderlimbed, tender; the way happens a quick sleep in the dark of another’s hold when you fall and they catch your breath in theirs. There in the night such things are permitted, and holy.
[On lakewater, and what lives beneath, 1859]
Bookmarked by SynthWayve
05 Jul 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
I don’t know if I’ve ever read anything more beautiful in my entire life. No words. Only awe.
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They’re young things, the both of them, more of each other than they wish.
[Laurence and Micolash go down an old underworld, 1857]
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Bookmarked by SynthWayve
24 Mar 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
A masterclass on prose, thematic parallels, storytelling, and the rivalry of two students who are knee-deep in things that can kill them at any time. Probably the absolute best work I've ever read of these two on this platform. Will be rereading one million times.
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When the sickness wants you, it takes the shape of your teeth and whittles them sharper. You call it rot and it means death between your lips.
[The Headmaster of Mensis sleeps his last sleep, 1880]
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Bookmarked by SynthWayve
15 Feb 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
AN ABSOLUTE DELIGHT. Obsessed in every way with this. A must-read in every meaning of the term!!
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Perhaps you are right in that communion should be an embrace rather than a spectacle. Still, the ways of the Church are not to be engraved anew. We’ve set them in stone together, remember; only one of us could afford to stray from them.
[The Vicar dreams his last dream, 1880]
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Bookmarked by SynthWayve
26 Jan 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
Probably the best work of them I’ve read. SO GOOD! A delightful read!
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The Provost of Mensis is a very busy man and puts his work over everything, a little sickness is nothing he should worry of. Afterall, it will pass, right?