memento-morianon

[memento-morianon]

cleaned up and edited with IPA pronunciation added

Fantasy pronouns

this took a while lol

pronunciation basics: anything ending with "os" rhymes with "cross" x in the quetzalin language sounds like "ch" as in "chop/cheap/chick"

for the most part, e and i at the start/end of a word will sound like ay and ee respectively (such as flambe, fiance / bring, sing) while e and i stuck between consonants will sound like eh and ih respectively (such as lend, wreck / fix, tick)

#mm world details #conlang #writeblr

[memento-morianon]

Fantasy pronouns

this took a while lol

pronunciation basics: anything ending with "os" rhymes with "cross" x in the quetzalin language sounds like "ch" as in "chop/cheap/chick"

for the most part, e and i at the start/end of a word will sound like ay and ee respectively (such as flambe, fiance / bring, sing) while e and i stuck between consonants will sound like eh and ih respectively (such as lend, wreck / fix, tick)

#mm world details #conlang #writeblr

[memento-morianon]

little note on pronouns

I've been using typical human gender pronouns to refer to all my characters thus far, but once i have done enough work on conlangs I actually plan to write the story with all the characters using pronouns from their own native languages.

Evarin, for example, is a trans woman. I usually go with "she/her/hers" when I talk about Evarin. but I am currently building the ancestral language shared by orcs and gnomes, which means Evarin's pronouns actually should be ri/ral/ros, actually.

and then Morianon is a special case, because during book 1 and part of book 2 I'll use elf pronouns for him, lining up with a masculine gender, but then once he connects with his quetzalin culture during book 2, he will change his pronouns to match with their genders instead. so instead of he/him/his, Morianon will go by a-xel/a-xos (standard pronoun and possessive pronoun only)

but only during the courting season (summer) because the quetzalin "genders" are actually just a courting label to tell which role each person takes during the courting season. a-xel means Morianon is a Dancer. outside of courting season, it's just xel/xos (standard adult quetzalin pronoun)

and Morianon is still cis gender the entire time! just in a different way.

(the x in this case is pronounced like a ch, as in check or chess. chel/choss(like cross) is how you pronounce the xel/xos pronoun)

eventually I will have all of the fantasy pronouns worked out lol, even if the rest of the language for each species goes unfinished. who knows, maybe some readers will really like the different pronoun styles! works out for people who also feel aligned with a binary gender but still want a pronoun shift, because Evarin is still using femme-presenting pronouns up there, just in a non-human language lol.

#mm characters #mm world details #fantasy pronouns

[memento-morianon]

story excerpt masterpost

book 1 rough draft:

ch 1, ch 2,

book 2 rough draft:

communal preening

other related writing:

Primal Forces

pre-story Mori/Evarin honeymoon (very nsfw)

#if any new followers want to read things

[memento-morianon]

(image description: a sketchy digital painting in shades of pink, blue, and purple. It depicts a humanoid character with pig-like hands, feet, and facial features. She is standing in the pose of Botticelli's Birth of Venus painting, one hand by her chest, the other near her groin. She has long dark hair, sideburns, and body hair. She is wearing a tank top and a pair of casual pants with a belt. She is holding a trans flag. end description.)

There's been a lot of crap going on regarding trans people, online, politically, and in many other ways. It sucks. but in the meantime, I may as well make it clear that I support trans people.

This is Evarin, she's a gnome, and she is one of my two main characters in my very slow-going WIP story. (@memento-morianon is my writing sideblog) Evarin is the PoV character for a good portion of the story, so I hope when it's all done and published, there will be readers who find comfort and joy in her, maybe there will even be some people who see themselves reflected in her.

it's a long ways off, but at least I can share the art for now.

[memento-morianon]

this got super long and rather explicit lol so i posted it to Ao3 because that's a very easy way to keep my writing safe and internet accessible for other people to read.

the scene: my two main characters on their wedding night, figuring out their sex life. Morianon is very new at sex, Evarin has some prior experience. they love each other very much. I wrote it so I can get a better sense of how to write the sex scenes in the main story, when they've been married 5 years. It helps to compare the 5-years-married dynamic to the newlywed dynamic, I think.

Also still trying to find a balance between explicit and erotic vs too vague, because when I eventually publish my story I do want to have sex scenes showing the character dynamics and their boundaries and all that, but I don't want it to shift so hard into erotic that it disrupts the flow and mood of the story, you know? not "spicy" for the sake of being "spicy", but an exploration of sexual intimacy between two very specific characters with their own very specific desires and routines and boundaries.

being asexual, it's a little hard for me to figure out what other people would consider truly "erotic" vs just "sexual" if that makes any sense lol

#courting season #mm excerpts #writeblr #also yes i use different slang for penises depending on which character i am talking about #evarin has a dick #mori has a cock #because you know #he is a bird

[memento-morianon]

clothing tests

trying to design some elf clothes. in general, i need to figure out what the clothing styles are like for all my people species, including between their different cultures when relevant. obviously there will be similarities when multiple people species live in one area, because they'll pick up on stuff from each other and engage in trade. but I still want there to be some distinctions, like orc clothing being 90% hide and leather while gnomish clothing involves more woven fabric, dwarf clothes having a lot of beaded embroidery, etc.

but for now, here's my oc Kouto showing off a few of my ideas.

(image description: four colored drawings of an elf standing in a neutral pose. They have light skin and black hair pulled into a simple bun. They have a long tail, and their toes are arranged more like those of a monkey, with the big toe acting similar to a thumb. Each drawing shows off a different outfit. further detail will be given under the readmore.)

my elves are mainly arboreal, which also means a majority of their resources are going to come from trees and other nearby plants, as well as any animals that live in the forests. As a result, a lot of their common clothes will be made with tree bark and other plant fibers, left in their natural colors or dyed with plant materials. Hide, leather, and bone, as well as feathers, would also be fairly common clothing materials.

Of course, they would engage in trade with other people to obtain things like metal jewelry, wool cloth, and dyes from other parts of the world. Their formal clothing would also be very fancy indeed, because elves live for centuries and have a lot of time to really invest in getting formal clothes with intricate weaving and embroidery and brilliant colors. I'm just no good at drawing clothes that look that fancy, so I stuck to simple outfits. these ones would not necessarily all originate from the same culture, I'm still working out details on the cultures in the main country the story is set in.

(more description:

First, a gold vest over a white shirt with long puff sleeves. Over this, they are wearing a green sash looped and folded around their torso and held in place with a braided belt. their pants are very simple but their boots have a woven appearance and the fronts are open for the toes.

Second, a pale green shirt with puffed shoulders and long straight sleeves, covered by a dark red vest laced up the front. they are wearing green pants covered by a brown outer layer akin to the chaps worn by cowboys, which is held up by straps attached to the belt. they also have a gold hair accessory at the base of their bun. they are barefoot.

Third, an outfit with a more open front that exposes their chest. their undershirt is white with long loose sleeves and their overshirt is dark blue with a red trim and open cap sleeves. they are wearing a very loose pair of tan pants and baggy cloth boots with a woven cuff. their toes are still exposed at the front of the boots. They have a few layered necklaces and a long hair tie accessory around their bun.

Fourth, an outfit for a rainy day. They are wearing a woven hat with a simple pattern and a cloth that ties it around their head to keep it in place. Their shirt cannot be seen under the blue and purple high-low cap they are wearing, but they have brown woven bracers on their forearms which match their braided belt and the woven cuffs and foot covers of their thigh high boots, which are made from grey leather. Their toes are covered in a way that makes the front of their boots look like mittens. end description.)

#mm world details #mm illustrations #mm characters

[memento-morianon]

story excerpt masterpost

book 1 rough draft:

ch 1, ch 2,

book 2 rough draft:

communal preening

other related writing:

Primal Forces

pre-story Mori/Evarin honeymoon (very nsfw)

#mm excerpts #masterpost #writeblr #original writing

[memento-morianon]

chapter 2 rough draft

Entering the village, Evarin’s anxiety was only partly dissuaded by the comforting familiarity. The smell of meat cooking over the bonfire pit, the sound of deep orcish laughter booming through the air, even on a day of mourning.

“Tawei!” A few women at the bonfire pit waved at the little group as they walked past, their hands bloody as they prepared piles of fresh meat for the feast, wrapping whole elk legs and ribs in layers of damp cedar wood strips and setting them on the rocks around the fire.

Tawei nodded back at them but hurried along towards the (important spiritual building). Evarin kept her mother’s hand tight, but pulled away from her husband just enough to reach into her pocket and rub the pebble between her fingers, trying to calm her racing heart. Though she knew she would have time to rest, she didn’t want to Sing with worry in her breath.

As they reached the (important spiritual building), Morianon walked ahead, running his hand over Evarin’s shoulder before he stepped around Tawei and down the short slope to the door, vanishing through the heavy elk hide curtain. It was a shorter door frame than those on the other buildings around it; even an orc of average height would have to bow their head to enter. Though Tawei and Evarin were half as tall, they too bowed their heads as they passed through the curtain and into the warm open room.

It was dim inside. Sunlight poured down through the chimney hole over the hearth, bright shafts cutting through the smoke. Metal lamps hung from the rafters, reflecting the soft glow of dwarven rune stones over the scattered crowd of orcs, dwarves, goblins, and elves. PIxies scurried along the rafters, buzzing their glittery wings and wiggling their antennae at each other while they watched and listened to the murmured conversations below. ((evarin’s two friends are here as well, they’ll greet her quietly but let her speak with he-esh before they try to hang out with her))

((also I think I’ve gotten too deep in Evarin’s PoV as I keep only having Mori do things when she’s looking at him. He’s a PoV character too, so I will be expanding his actions in edits))

Evarin’s father hung back slightly, letting her and Tawei go ahead of him to the group of orcs near the back of the room. Morianon was already there, holding K’arik’s arm and wrapping a wing around his friend’s broad back. They were a funny pair, especially surrounded by K’arik’s family at He-esh’s bedside.  ((use this space to put a little more description in: the dwarves with he-esh’s family need to be mentioned)) K’arik was not the tallest orc, but even kneeling on the hard dirt floor he towered over Morianon.

Evarin left her mother’s side to stand by her husband and signed a hello to K’arik when he glanced her way.

“How are you?” she asked, keeping her hands where K’arik could read them. He tilted his head towards his grandfather, creasing his brow and forcing a slight smile.

“I will be alright,” he signed in reply, pulling his arm gently away from Morianon, “we will all be alright. But the waiting is so hard.” He sighed, taking his grandfather’s hand and rubbing his thumb over the knobby knuckles. He-esh barely reacted, still breathing slow and heavy while he stared at the ceiling. He was smiling though; weak old muscles pulling his lips around the heavy curled tusks as he watched something above him in the shadows between the lamps.

Tawei approached carefully, catching the attention of Th’elir— K’arik’s mother— who was standing by He-esh’s head and softly running her fingers over his thin white hair. She nodded at Tawei and tapped her father’s shoulder, rousing him from whatever vision had been keeping him occupied.

“We have guests,” she told him, her voice loud and clear in the hushed room, “come say hello.” She gestured towards Tawei, who stepped forward so He-esh might see her better and politely bowed her head.

“He-esh, do you remember me?” she asked. The old orc squinted and blinked.

“Hmn, do I? Who are you?” His voice was dry and raspy.

“My name is Tawei, my mother was your cousin, At’ali.”

“Atali,” he mumbled, tongue too weak and heavy to pronounce the hard tap in her name, “yes, I remember. Welcome, tiny cousin. You are always welcome here.” He smiled and nodded, already looking past Tawei into the empty air over her head.

“Thank you. And this is my husband, Izune,” she gestured back to him as he sheepishly approached, staying slightly behind her.

“And I’m her daughter, Evarin,” she piped up, leaving Morianon and K’arik to stand with her parents. She could see K’arik’s cousin Resh on the other side of the bed, signing hastily to make sure K’arik could keep up with the conversation.

“Ah, so many little cousins,” He-esh laughed, “thank you. It’s good to see Atali’s kin in our clan. She’s happy you’re here too.” He barely looked down at the small family, looking just past them into the shadows. “Though I’m sure-“ he coughed, shaking his head a little- “I’m sure she’s just waiting for me to come over and get an earful from her. Always had something to say, Atali…” his voice fumbled and went quiet, gaze turning towards K’arik. “Oh, look who it is,” he laughed, “you brought the Raven in with you.” He nodded at Morianon, who blinked in surprise.

“Yes, sorry, I was waiting my turn,” he stepped forward with an awkward smile, “hello He-esh.” ((the interaction between Mori and He-esh will be expanded in edits))

“Ha! You are very early, Raven. I’ve got some farewells left in me yet. Impatient bird, aren’t you? Go wait for me elsewhere, I’ll go with you soon enough.” He chuckled and coughed, laying back down on his pillow. Evarin cast a humored glance to Morianon, but his smile had vanished and all his feathers were raised on end, shivering slightly. His golden brown eyes darted briefly into the air over his head, before he cleared his throat and forced a grin onto his face.

“Forgive me, He-esh,” he said, playing along, “it was just so cold outside, I thought I could wait here. You take your time.” He laughed, but his wings were still tense around his shoulders and his hand reached down, fingers spread desperately, to pet the dog that wasn’t there. Th’elir clicked her tongue and frowned.

“Ay, dad, you’re so rude. You know Mori isn’t dancing until tomorrow night.” She gave the little group an apologetic smile. “He’s been joking like that with everyone.”

“Let him have his fun,” Izune said, waving his hand dismissively, “he’s more than earned a little graveside humor, I think.” Tawei snorted quietly, elbowing her husband. Th’elir hummed in amusement. ((the dwarf friends will be chuckling at He-esh’s jokes and adding their own commentary when i edit things))

“Oh, I know he has. Though, I’m not sure how much he’s actually joking, or how much he’s actually been communing with spirits. He called Senik by our uncle’s name just yesterday,” she sighed, exhaustion drawn under her eyes. Her younger brother nodded in agreement, sitting by He-esh’s shoulder. At the foot of the bed, Ikar, the eldest, only grunted and frowned, pointedly averting his gaze from Tawei and her family.

“It’s more and more confusing every day,” Senik mumbled, “but he’ll be alright soon. He’ll be with mother again.” 

“But for now, he’s still with us,” Th’elir replied with a sad smile. Her father glanced up at her, but said nothing, just breathing deep and slow. The sound of his heavy breath mingled with the gentle murmur of conversation that filled the cold silence of his family’s grief. For a long moment, no one spoke, as if they could hold back time by holding their tongues.

((insert paragraph of character descriptions and emotional stuff here so the silence has more space to settle. He-esh’s three children are the main priority for description, as well as his dwarf friends.))

Izune broke the delicate illusion, softly clearing his throat and stepping back.

“I’ll just wait for you by the hearth,” he whispered to Tawei, kissing her cheek before he walked away and joined the huddle of goblins still thawing the winter sleep out of their eyes. From him, a little wave of motion touched the rest of He-esh’s family and friends, shaking them from their stillness. The few young great-grandchildren glanced around sheepishly and wandered off together, mumbling about hunger and boredom. The adults remained where they were, still mostly silent. ((Resh, K’arik’s cousin, also leaves with them and taps K’arik’s brother Torek to take her place for sign language interpretation))

Morianon shook his feathers of the awkwardness and scurried up K’arik’s arm to perch on his shoulder, hunching over to maintain his balance. Evarin followed him but tapped K’arik on the knee and asked permission with a tilt of her head. He nodded, and she sat on his thigh, leaning back against his torso. There was comfort in the shared warmth, the weight of K’arik’s hand as he rubbed his thumb over her arm. The slight tug in her hair as Morianon reached down and ran his fingers through it.

His touch didn’t linger, as he kept fidgeting and eventually turned to fuss with the feather hairpiece in K’arik’s braided topknot. Like Evarin’s hairpiece, Morianon had crafted it himself, using his own molted feathers. K’arik’s was made of two long flight feathers that displayed the split colors of black-tipped-blue and cream-tipped-green, both of them as long as Morianon’s arm, but only just long enough to brush the middle of K’arik’s back from their place in his hair.

K’arik seemed to ignore him, more focused on holding his grandfather’s hand, gently squeezing it and holding it up to his snout to kiss the frail wrinkled skin. Evarin couldn’t fully see his expression from below, but she felt the occasional tear drip from his beard and onto her shoulder. She scooted over slightly, resting in the crook of his arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell his uncle Ikar was watching; his disdainful gaze passed over the odd trio and his snout wrinkled in a sour frown.

Opposite from him, Th’elir looked up and narrowed her eyes in a cold glare, then turned aside to address Tawei.

“We do have a lunch prepared. Everyone is free to eat at their leisure. But I was wondering, would it be alright to let He-esh eat something too? Or would that cause any complications for your work?” She kept her voice low, leaning down to Tawei’s range. Tawei shook her head with a gentle smile.

“No, that will be fine. Certainly, I wouldn’t have him eat a whole feast right now, but if he’s hungry he can have a little food. The method I’m using won’t be affected by it.” She stood confidently, but Evarin noticed the slight way she clenched her hand in her pocket. Th’elir nodded.

“Alright,” she sighed and turned to her daughters, “could you two go fetch a tray of food and bring it here? And check in on the little ones, please.”

“See if the pixies have any of their good honey,” He-esh whispered to the girls as they left, cracking a grin, “I’m dying anyway, may as well have a little fun before I go.” His granddaughters giggled, and Th’elir grunted in frustration, jaw tight. ((And one of the dwarves leaves with the girls, giving He-esh a wink and a nudge as they leave))

“Hush,” she muttered, gently cupping her hands over his ears before speaking to Tawei again. “Now… I know you’ve already explained it, but can you tell me again how this is going to work?” In spite of her hushed tone, He-esh turned his head and swiveled his ears to listen as Tawei replied.

“To put it simply, I’ll be injecting a catalyst material, and Evarin will Sing his blood to clot around it,” she said, waving her hand briefly towards her daughter. “It sounds very simple, but she’s been practicing her Song for many weeks in preparation. She studied the old tongue thoroughly to ensure that she could Sing it correctly.” Tawei stood a little taller and beamed proudly, making Evarin blush and smile shyly.

“I’m quite honored that you asked me to be part of this,” she said, sitting up to look a little more dignified, aware of the many eyes suddenly watching her. Most were kind, looking at her with sorrowful gratitude. Ikar’s eyes felt sharp in comparison as he stared down his snout and huffed quietly.

“It will be nice to hear a little music as I go,” He-esh mused, “my ears may be old, but Elkha says you have a lovely voice,” his eyes were wandering the empty air again, smiling at things no one else could see. Th’elir brushed her hands over his wrinkled face, letting her fingers pause on the piercing on his left eyebrow; the widower’s piercing.

“And you’re sure-“ she turned again to Tawei, “you’re certain none of this will affect the ceremony? If there’s any risk that the rest of us could be harmed by it…” her brow knitted with worry. Tawei shook her head.

“It won’t be a problem. The catalyst I’m injecting is completely benign. It only acts as a vessel for the Song to create the clots. When the Song is over, the effect will end, and you can perform your traditional funeral rites.”

“There, I told you so,” He-esh chuckled as Th’elir sighed in relief. “Ah, but Elkha, I supose we’re going the same way after all. You just had to get there first, didn’t you?” His laugh turned to a mild cough and raspy uneven breaths.

“You are speaking too much,” Th’elir muttered, “save your energy for the speech, dad.”

“I’ll manage,” he huffed. At the foot of his bed, Ikar grumbled under his breath.

“I don’t see why it needs to be so complicated,” he scoffed, “mother was caught off guard by her own health, but why are you going through this—“ he waved a hand dismissively— “gnomish custom. Or whatever it is. You helped grandfather pass all on your own, the old fashioned way.”

“Ikar,” He-esh coughed and lifted himself slightly, to the concern of Th’elir. “When you die, you can choose to take the knife as my father did. But let me die as I choose.” His cloudy eyes were remarkably focused, returning Ikar’s ferocity. “Don’t forget, those who wish to die by the knife—“ another fit of coughs and Th’elir’s firm hand brought him back down to his pillow. Senik piped up to finish his father’s warning.

“If you wish to die by the knife, take heed that your wish may be granted before you’re ready,” he grunted, avoiding his older brother’s glare, “we know, dad. Now will you please rest? Th’elir is right, you’re spending too much energy.” He rubbed his father’s arm, pointedly ignoring Ikar, who looked like he had a few more words ready to leap from his mouth. But his wife grasped his wrist and tugged him back a couple steps, giving him a sharp glare of her own.

Evarin curled back up in K’arik’s arm, shrinking away from the tension in the air. Glancing up, she saw that Mori had disappeared from K’arik’s shoulder, his hands barely visible as he clung to his friend’s shirt and perched on his back like a woodpecker.

((the pixies’ excitement should be mentioned a little sooner maybe)) The pixies on the rafters buzzed their wings in delight, chittering at the entertainment of family drama. They would deliver the details to their hive and spread it all around town in no time, news and gossip alike. But their excitement seemed disproportionate to the tense air below them. They scurried along the rafters, abdomens trembling, antennae twitching. Somewhere outside, a murmur swept through the air like a wave, tumbling into the room with the hurried footsteps and bright voices of K’arik’s sisters and nevies.(this is my genderless word for nieces and nephews)

“There’s— !” one of them exclaimed, stumbling directly into a guest as they moved to look outside. Th’elir looked thoroughly exasperated.

“Keep your voice down, dear, please.”

“But— no, come see!” The younger orcs all spoke over each other, trying to explain their breathless excitement. Evarin stood up as K’arik turned to look, and tried to see out the door herself even as people crowded into it and pulled the curtains aside. Morianon hopped from K’arik’s shoulder to the nearest pillar with a restricted flap of his wings, clawing his way up the old wood to join the pixies in the rafters.

“Make space, make space,” the voice of an old dwarf shooed the crowd away. He entered, carrying the promised tray of lunch for He-esh and his family, walking past the gasping, stunned guests and turning to address the dark shadow that had fallen over the doorway. “Come in, then. Might be a tight fit,” he chuckled. The stranger bent low, pushing their enormous three-toed feet over the threshold, ducking their head and reaching forward to pull themself inside.

“What’s going on?” He-esh squinted and frowned. “Elkha, tell me what’s going on.” He tapped Th’elir’s arm, but she too had been caught by surprise and only mumbled as she tried to explain.

Evarin stepped back towards K’arik, eyes wide. She glanced at her mother and saw her own shocked expression mirrored right back. As the stranger grunted and half-crawled through the low door, she saw her father escape the crowd and hurry to join her.

“Can you believe—“ he whispered, but Tawei shushed him. The stranger’s body blocked the whole door as they finally fit themself through it and stood up. Even inside, they had to bend their neck to avoid the rafters, towering over the tallest orcs in the room.

Four hooved feet, holding a body so heavy they sunk into the packed dirt floor. Legs as tall as a gnome. They wore layers of woven cloth, all green and brown and cedar red in beautiful leafy patterns, draped over their uncanny body that seemed to have two sets of ribs. Their arms were just skinnier versions of their forelegs, Evarin noticed. She could barely see their face in the shadows by the rafters.

Morianon could see them better, perched above everyone else. His feathers shivered as the stranger noticed him, catching and holding his gaze. Their mouth was tense, their long ears laid flat against their head. Morianon glanced away and found Evarin’s eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Forgive me,” the stranger said, bringing the murmur of the crowd to a dead hush, “for not announcing my arrival ahead of time.” They walked carefully forward, every step remarkably delicate for someone so massive. “I came to deliver my herd’s respects to you, He-esh.”

“Oh? Ah, no, I do know you,” He-esh sat up with Th’elir’s help, clearing his throat. “Or perhaps this is an old man’s dying dream. Are you a spirit?” he laughed, “I never thought I’d live to see a centaur enter my village. I suppose it would have to happen on the last day of my life, wouldn’t it?” He smiled up at the centaur and welcomed them forward with an open hand.

(done for now! I’ll be adding in things like descriptions of the dwarf friends, better descriptions of the people, and some better character actions later. But I promised myself this was a rough draft!! So it’s gonna stay messy)

#mm excerpts #mm 1

[memento-morianon]

chapter 1 rough draft

not going to put all my rough draft pieces on here, but i finally finished the first chapter properly, so i'm sharing it.

Evarin’s heart beat like a drum as she entered her altar room, keeping time for her whispered song; words and tones passed down for generations, older than she could fathom: a song to end a life. Her soft voice sunk into the dirt floor and echoed gently off the glass walls, making the air hum with aimless energy.

At the center of the room, Evarin paused and knelt before the stone altar. The dirt there was packed down in two shallow indents that fit her knees perfectly. She breathed deep, closing her eyes as she turned her face to the sun behind the glass. The early spring weather was still cold enough to make her shiver whenever she left the house, but her altar room always felt as warm as a summer day even in the midst of winter. With the sun warming her face, she focused her mind. All the sun’s energy poured into her, gentle and reassuring.

“Watch over me, [Father Sun]” she murmured, “and though he is not a gnome, I ask the [Moon Brothers] to guard He-esh in his final journey.” With a sigh, she lowered her face and opened her eyes, looking over the altar. The pine incense she had placed there a few days prior was still intact, but half burnt away. She plucked it from the offering shelf below the carved mountain peak and buried it in the dirt, pulling a fresh one from a hole in the bottom of the altar. With the fresh incense in place, she reached up to the woven hoop behind the altar’s peak and adjusted the glass disc that represented the largest moon, at the top of the sun’s symbol. Turned one way, it spread light, but the other direction focused it. Sunlight came together in a narrow beam and slowly scorched the incense stick until it began to smoke. Evarin turned the moon disc away again and scattered the light, watching the wisp of scented smoke drift in the sunlight, catching every beam. Satisfied that her offering had been received, she rested her hands in the dirt and bowed low until her long braided hair fell over her shoulder and her prayer pendant brushed the ground. She kissed the rough stone surface of the altar as gently as if it were her own mother’s cheek.

“[Mother Mountain], I need your strength,” she whispered against the silent stone, “I must Sing a life’s end today. Please, help me stay focused. Let my voice be steady and clear.” She buried her fingers deeper in the dirt, feeling her heartbeat tremble in her palms and merge with the slow pulse of the earth’s living energy. “I must not be distracted by grief; from myself or others. I must remain focused. Give me the strength to Sing.” The heavy scent of dirt filled every breath, overpowering the pine incense still smoking above her. She waited. She felt the grit of the dirt in her hands and under her knees. Grainy, warm, damp dirt. In the silence, she heard the deep thrum of the earth’s breath resonating in her bones, and the soft sound of footsteps in the hall behind her.

“Ev? I’m ready to go when you- ah,” her husband’s voice broke the silence, “sorry,” he dropped to a whisper and his footsteps retreated, joined by the tap of his dog’s claws on the floor as she followed him one way and then back again. Evarin couldn’t help the breathy laugh that slipped from her lips and fell over the stone altar.

“[Mother Mountain],” she continued, “send me a stone to aid my Singing; a token I can carry with me to keep myself grounded. Your guidance has never failed me; I trust your strength.” She sighed and lifted herself up, standing and wiping her hands on her pants, just beside the dirt smudges on her knees. Her ears twitched at the soft sound of knuckles tapping the wall. She turned to face Morianon. “Done?” he asked, standing sheepishly in the doorway with Sitla at his feet and his wings tucked around his body, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Evarin waved her hand. She met Morianon in the middle, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pressing her forehead to his, touching their wedding tattoos together. He leaned into her touch and rubbed his nose on the tip of her snout.

“Alright. I was going to say, I’m ready to leave when you are. I’m sure your parents are waiting for us.” He raised his head to nip at the hairs between her brows, preening them with his beak tooth. She kissed the scar that ran over his cheeks and gently pushed him away.

“Yes, I’m almost ready. Just give me a few more minutes.” She stepped back towards her altar, but Morianon stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“My spring molt has started,” he said, handing her a small blue feather with a black tip; “first dropped feather of the season.” She took it gently and gave him a grateful smile.

“The old one has begun to sink,” she replied. And while he waited for her, she returned to the altar and knelt at the side of it, looking into the carefully crafted cavern that extended nearly to the center of the stone. It was deep and filled with water, even having a pipe that ran through the stone and dripped the water back into itself as a slow fountain. At the center of the little pool, another feather floated; dark green with a cream colored tip. It had become ragged, taking on water as the protective oils wore off. She lifted it out of the pool and replaced it with the dry blue feather, leaning forward and murmuring another prayer under her breath:

“Keep him safe,” was all she said. She watched the water ripple beneath the feather, distorting her reflection. Her hand moved almost thoughtlessly to touch the feather hairpiece at the top of her braid, as if to make sure it was still there. Before she stood, she buried the wet green feather next to the altar.

“Should we get going then?” Morianon asked. Sitla wagged her thin hairless tail, thumping it against the floor. She didn’t enter the altar room, only stretching her neck over the threshold with her tall ears at full attention and her empty white eyes wide open.

“Yes, let’s go,” Evarin dipped her hands in the water and let the loose dirt fall from her hands, “I’ll wash properly when we get there.”

“Of course,” Morianon held his arm out to wrap it around her waist when she walked by him. They made their way back through their home together, Sitla trailing behind like a shadow. Only her bright jeweled collar and pale eyes betrayed her presence in a dark room; her near-hairless skin was as dark as charcoal.

Seamless wood walls curved into corners and opened into the large central room at the heart of the enormous tree. A plush mossy carpet muffled the sound of Evarin’s hooves before thumping against the bare wood of the front entrance. She took her favorite jacket from its hook on the wall and wrapped herself in it. Like most of her favorite clothes, it had been a gift from her father. He wove the colored wool on his loom, building the intricate patterns row by row, and had a seamstress finish the work. Wearing it brought her comfort beyond the warmth of the wool.

Morianon took longer, pulling long sleeves over his arms. His shoulders remained bare to give his wings space, all his clothes had a neck strap or buttoned collar and wide open backs that only covered the space between his wings and tail. Evarin walked out of the door ahead of him while he crouched to wrap his feet in cloth shoes, shoving Sitla’s nose away from his taloned toes.

The early spring air was cold enough to turn Evarin’s ears red, despite the brightness of the midday sun blinking through the forest canopy over the neighborhood. She pulled her jacket closed and waited on the porch, staring out at her parents’ home a few trees away.

Morianon hissed a few short words and Evarin could hear Sitla’s claws skittering on the floor before the door closed with a hard scuff. She looked over her shoulder to see Morianon alone behind her, Sitla’s face peering at her people from behind a window pane. Evarin frowned and Morianon avoided her gaze.

“I’ll be fine without her,” he said, fluffing his feathers in the cold air, “she’ll only get underfoot, and you know she’s smaller than orc feet.” He held his hand out to her and she took it, leaning into the warmth of his wings.

“But are you sure? It’s a funeral, not a festival.”

“K’arik is the one I’m worried for, not myself,” Morianon murmured, flicking his wings nervously. Evarin nodded, wrapping her arm around her husband’s waist.

“I’m worried for him too.” They walked in silence, gravel and bark chips crunching under their feet as they made their way up the road. Evarin spread her hoofed toes with every step, willing a stone to catch between them. A cold pebble lodged itself in the crease between her toes just as they turned up the path to her parents’ door. Morianon walked ahead to knock while Evarin bent down and plucked the pebble from between her toes. It was thoughtful of the Mountain to let her find the token in front of her parents’ home. The pebble was smooth and round; a simple grey stone with a few flecks of dark red scattered over its surface.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding the pebble to her heart and then slipping it into her jacket pocket. Her parents exited their home only a moment later.

“Mori, how are you?” Izune greeted his son-in-law with a brief hug, “you look tired.”

“I’m alright, really,” Morianon replied, stepping back. Izune nodded and turned to his wife. Tawei exited the house slower than him, carefully searching through her bag.

“It was all there five minutes ago, dear,” Izune said with a gentle smile. He was much shorter than Tawei, but his hair was just as grey and his face just as wrinkled as hers. She furrowed her brow, pursing her lips around her short tusks.

“Mom,” Evarin joined her family on the porch, taking her mother’s hand and standing on tiptoes to kiss her cheek. “You won’t make any mistakes,” she affirmed, “I know you won’t.”

“Not with you by my side,” Tawei shared a smile with her daughter. Her knees bore the same dirt stains as Evarin’s. She squeezed her daughter’s hand, but the reassuring gesture felt like it was more for herself.

“Won’t be any complications for your work,” Izune said, “but I expect the family drama might complicate the funeral.” He wrapped his arm around Tawei’s waist and pulled her away from the house, leading the little group out to the main road. Morianon rejoined Evarin and held her hand, extending a wing around her shoulders.

“Drama?” he prompted, leaning forward.

“The pixies have been passing around some early gossip,” Izune continued, “Ikar just arrived yesterday, apparently. Didn’t bother with the [train], I hear. Took the long way through centaur territory.” His wife wrinkled her snout in response.

“Honestly,” she huffed, “all He-esh has done, and this is how his eldest acts?”

“Well, there’s one in every family,” Izune sighed.

“Not in your family,” Evarin remarked, tilting her head with a playful smile.

“Only because I learned my lesson,” Izune laughed, “that, and my auntie Crin died years ago.”

“She was always rude to me at holidays,” Tawei grumbled, baring her tusks at the name. Izune leaned his head against her upper arm.

“And your responses were always entertaining,” he teased, “oh, I wonder if we’ll see the drama before or after He-esh passes. We might even get to see He-esh deliver one last scathing insult before he dies.” He grinned while everyone else scoffed and groaned.

“Dad, come on,” Evarin rolled her eyes, “have a little respect. It’s far too early to make jokes. Save it for the after-party.”

“I guarantee that old orc has made several jokes about his own impending death in the last hour,” Izune retorted. Morianon hummed thoughtfully.

“Honestly, he’s probably making one right now.” A hushed ripple of laughter traveled through the small group, and then they walked in silence for a while. Beneath their feet, the dirt road was covered in wood chips and gravel to keep it from getting muddy, making every step noisy with the crunch and clatter of wood and pebbles being scuffed and kicked around.

Tawei paused suddenly, crouching and plucking a pebble from between her toes. She murmured her gratitude, holding the pebble to her heart and then slipping it into a pocket. Izune waited patiently for her while Morianon and Evarin walked a few steps ahead. They breathed in the scent of mud and pine, holding each other close against a chilling breeze that curled through the trees, carrying the sound of rustling branches and sparse bird calls.

In spite of the cold, the first new growth of spring was already turning the world green. New shoots sprouted from the middles of wilted ferns, tiny buds decorated the branches of the few leafy trees between the tall pines, and many other plants were emerging from the blanket of decay on the ground, reaching up to the scattered sunlight.

Evarin spotted a raven hopping through the underbrush, picking up fallen twigs. It paused and tilted its head to watch as the four of them walked past. It wasn’t alone, as ravens never were. Their croaking calls carried over the songs of other birds, their black feathers made them into living shadows that darted between the trees or peeked out from the underbrush. Evarin couldn’t help her amused smile at the way they hopped along the ground, looking more like playful children than wild birds. Behind her, she heard her father chuckle softly.

“I suppose it’s good luck,” he said, catching up to his daughter, “seeing all these ravens on our way to a funeral. They’re watching out for He-esh.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Evarin nodded. Her smile faltered and she turned her gaze back up the road. Tawei reached over Izune and touched her shoulder with motherly concern in her eyes.

“How are you feeling about it?”

“It’s going to be hard,” Evarin admitted, “I’ve never done it for someone this close to me. And it’s a different Song, so I’m nervous.” Her breath trembled as she sighed, and Morianon held her a little closer. “I will miss him,” she continued, “I remember sitting at the community hearth as a kid to hear his stories.”

“He scared me when I was a kid,” Morianon laughed, “I always felt like he might try to eat me, because every time he laughed I thought his mouth looked big enough to swallow me whole. Might have been, honestly; I was tiny.”

“Ah, but he did earn your trust eventually,” Izune teased, “and it was adorable. You looked so proud of yourself, perched on his shoulder, towering over everyone else.”

"And now I just perch on K'arik instead." Morianon grinned, but his brow furrowed slightly and his eyes were wet.

"He inherited his grandfather's broad shoulders," Izune remarked. Tawei smiled and gazed up to the blue sky between the trees.

"He is so much like He-esh, in all the best ways." With a wistful sigh, she turned her eyes back to her companions. "I remember a very different He-esh in my childhood. Though, even by my time he wasn’t as strict or cold as my mother saw him. Sometimes I look back, and I can hardly believe how much he accomplished.”

“It’s quite the heavy legacy,” Izune agreed. He leaned his head against her arm as they continued down the road. In the silence over their small group, Evarin’s heart ached at the thought of all He-esh had done, and how deeply it affected their own lives. She smiled at her parents and she held Morianon a little tighter, brushing her sideburns over his cheek feathers.

Around them, the dense trees began to thin out, letting more light through as they drew closer to the village. On either side of the road, tall wooden pillars carved with names and symbols told the story of the [orc clan]’s ancestors. They looked almost new, lovingly maintained to prevent moss and lichens from covering the intricate imagery. Evarin felt tiny as she looked up and up over the pillars; tiny like a child sitting at their grandparents’ feet. She searched the carved patterns, slowing her pace.

There, on the second pillar to the left, just high enough to be out of reach, she saw her grandmother. At’ali, her name carved deeper than the others around her. The ragged edges still remained around her like scars in the wood, a subtle reminder of the years her name had been missing. Chipped away like rot, like the other scarred blank spaces on older pillars closer to the village. He-esh had carved her name back in its place with his own hands.

“Ev?” Morianon stopped walking, worry in his eyes. Tawei and Izune waited beside them.

“I’m alright,” Evarin reassured them, “just nervous.” Tawei gave her an empathetic smile, stepping away from her husband and bending to kiss her daughter’s cheek.

“We’re here together,” she reminded Evarin. They clasped hands and walked forward under the shadows of their ancestors.

#reblogging my own stuff #cuz i feel like it

[memento-morianon]

(image description: the pine drake in full color. its backside is all green and brown, while the underside and tail are bright yellow with blue and orange stripes on the tail, dewlap, and part of the wings. the longer part of the wings have three blue and orange spots on them. it is shown in a default resting pose, a soaring pose seen from below, and an attacking pose with its tail straight up while it spits bright green venom. end description)

might change my mind on these colors and patterns later, we'll see.

(Image description: a sketchbook page showing q glyi g lizard labeled as a Pine Drake. Below it, a pine drake spitting venom at a very annoyed elf.

The pine drake is roughly the size of the elf's forearm, striped, with a broad flat tail and folded wings that are made of a skin membrane between the ribs and an extended finger. There are some spikes on its nose and spine. When it spits venom, it displays a dewlap on its throat and holds its tail straight up. End description)

Decided to grab the concept of small pest dragons out of my middle school brain and bring it back for my adult self, but much better this time.

The pine drake is disliked by many elves because it breaks into their roosts and steals eggs from the domestic birds.

[memento-morianon]

(Image description: a sketchbook page showing q glyi g lizard labeled as a Pine Drake. Below it, a pine drake spitting venom at a very annoyed elf.

The pine drake is roughly the size of the elf's forearm, striped, with a broad flat tail and folded wings that are made of a skin membrane between the ribs and an extended finger. There are some spikes on its nose and spine. When it spits venom, it displays a dewlap on its throat and holds its tail straight up. End description)

Decided to grab the concept of small pest dragons out of my middle school brain and bring it back for my adult self, but much better this time.

The pine drake is disliked by many elves because it breaks into their roosts and steals eggs from the domestic birds.

#mm world details #sketchbook

[memento-morianon]

(image description: sketchbook pages of an orc character labeled as K'arik. on the first page, there are several bust drawings of him with different hairstyles, as well as a closeup drawing of one possible design for a necklace holding two large spiral shaped tusks with a mesh of woven leather. K'arik has a braid on each side of his beard, while the rest of his beard is short. the hairstyles shown are a half-up bun, joined braids, a braided bun, a topknot with his beard braids pulled up to it, a low ponytail with the beard braids pulled back to it, and a small sketch with all his hair loose.

the second page is a full body portrait of K'arik wearing a half-up bun with his beard braids pulled back and attached to beads that go into the bun. He is wearing a layered short necklace with the spiral tusks, a very wide-opened embroidered top with loose sleeves, and a high waisted pair of cropped pants with a woven leather belt. end description)

I often draw my various characters in that same way you see cartoon characters always wearing the same clothes and hair, because the consistency is easier to draw lol. But I do like to switch it up sometimes! Still working out a better way for K'arik to wear his friend Morianon's feathers, because I do want them to be a visible display of their relationship, but K'arik is deaf and moves around a lot, so finding a place anywhere on his body where he can wear long feathers without them being in his way somehow is a bit tricky! It would probably be easier if I went back to giving him a set of smaller feathers, but the fact that he is large enough to wear Morianon's full flight feathers does make them appealing.

The tusks he wears are from his grandfather, who dies at the start of the story. It's traditional for orcs in this population to keep their loved ones' tusks after death, but for K'arik in particular it is an important status symbol to wear the tusks. His grandfather was a great diplomat and he chose K'arik to continue his work, especially with regards to the centaurs who are still quite wary of the orcs due to the messy connected history between their species. The tusks are thus a very literal representation of the heavy responsibility K'arik now carries.

Finding a design for that necklace is not easy, the tusks are quite large and require a lot of stabilizing material to keep them from swinging around if K'arik moves fast for any reason.

#mm characters #mm world details #sketchbook

[memento-morianon]

May as well also put this on my side blog where I post about the story I'm writing lol. sorry for the long post, just putting my thoughts together as someone who over analyzes absolutely everything all the time.

Btw the curved bones on the orc's pectoral plate are actually his grandfather's tusks. it's a symbol of his role within his culture, because he's following his grandfather's footsteps, being in charge of some very important inter-species relationships (not just with his friends here).

I try to write my fantasy cultures by starting with the environment and the base species of the people. The main setting is a temperate forest region with a lot of mountains and rivers, and also close to the coast, very similar to the PNW where I actually live. So inevitably, things like cedar bark cloth and log houses are going to be common in every culture that lives there. When you're writing a non-modern world, you gotta have your people use what's around them. That's just kinda how things work lol.

but it also makes it really easy to accidentally get a little too close to the real life cultures that have been here for centuries. when the majority of my research involves looking at pre-colonial history and how people have used the natural resources in an environment similar to the one I'm writing, then most of what i end up seeing in the results is obviously going to be native american textiles and architecture and the like.

and when I do a lot of my worldbuilding by going to the very root with speculative evolution and bring that into the cultures of the people I write, there's always going to be something vaguely animalistic about it all, and that just combines with the pre-modern vibes and makes you squint suspiciously, doesn't it?

And then my magic system I think also adds to it. Runes and sigils for simple magic, singing spells for healing and manipulating organic materials, and deeply ritualistic meditative magic that involves some level of self harm to connect with spirits and tap into the vast wells of energy in the world itself.

put that all together and what do you get? a very well intentioned genuine attempt at unique worldbuilding that kinda makes me nervous that I'm being duped by my own internalized biases.

but i obviously also don't want to just abandon my writing and hope that someone who is not white just coincidentally writes the exact same story in my place. that's not really a solution. nor is switching all my characters to be white and live in a more europe-inspired area. so i just gotta wrestle with stuff until i have all the details worked out and give myself a little grace because it's literally impossible to make new fictional cultures that are 100% original and have absolutely zero similarity to any real life culture ever.

I hope that by rooting my worldbuilding in things that are more tied to the environment and species needs, I can create satisfyingly unique cultures that feel fresh and organic and alive. And of course, I also hope that by putting a lot of focus on the individual characters and their personal emotional arcs, they'll feel complex enough that it just won't matter if they still have a few small details that would seem more worrying if that was all they had.

and I need to save money and try to find sensitivity readers for my rough drafts. that's very important.

hi! you can delete this ask if you don't want to answer it. But I've been following and seeing your posts regarding the feathers in hair problem with character design and I'm realizing that I may have some ocs with the silhouette issue. I really don't want to cross any lines into cultural appropriation, though I also know it's impossible to make my fantasy cultures 100% free of real-life inspiration.

so here's the situation in a visual nut shell: (feathers not drawn to scale)

the only characters I ever draw with feathers decorating their hair are these two, because the protagonist with all the feathers molts twice a year and crafts hair pieces for his two favorite people. It's a very cute way to display their relationship, so I want to keep this idea. But up til now, I've usually just drawn the feathers attached to their hair towards the back of the head, hanging down straight.

It's easier to adjust the wife's accessory, because it uses the fluffy gold feathers and it's a much smaller hair piece. I can move it basically anywhere on her head. But the long flight feathers for the queer platonic partner are a little harder to place without it looking kinda appropriative and I'm not okay with that. I just don't know where I can position them to avoid the problem, but I really like giving him the long feathers because he is so tall.

Do you have any advice on how I might solve this? I'll keep workshopping it on my own, and I understand completely if you don't want to answer. These characters are part of a story I'm hoping to publish with illustrations, so it's important to me that I get things right.

Your characters are oddly that "tribal" looking aesthetic and I think adding the feathers to the hair is only going to make it worse? Like equating it to those stereotypes especially with the teeth and what’s looking like a feather/bone beast plate, braids and Navajo styled bun. There’s a bit more but they only get worse once you notice the context and continually piling on to the "tribal fantasy" I feel like a great answer to adding feathers in a meaningful way is to ask what did people who aren’t native do with feathers? And go crazy from there. maybe find a cool little niche European trinket

(Also very cute ocs I love pig orcs)

#mm world details

[memento-morianon]

(Image description: several small drawings of different textile patterns, with captions and descriptions next to them. The captions of each, from left to right and top to bottom, are as follows:

Orc embroidery, on tanned hide or leather. Lots of angular patterns, evokes animal trails, mostly straight lines. dyed leather, hair, and sinews. The patterns shown are all small and repetitive, much like animal footprints or simple geometric shapes.

Gnomish weaving. Focused on nature imagery, geometric, repetitive patterns for everyday stuff, elaborate sun/moon/mountain imagery for important stuff. Mainly earthy colors. The patterns shown here depict a few simple nature motifs that imply moving water, grass, and abstract critters. Below these are more intricate an detailed images of a mountain, three moons, and the sun.

Elven embroidery, on woven cloth or tanned hide. Lots of freehand curves, mostly plant imagery, tiny stitches for smoother lines, very texture. greater detail for formal things. Colorful. The patterns here depict many curving lines and dots, similar to vines and ferns. Towards the center, there is a flying bird near a block of texture similar to tree bark.

Goblin weaving, mostly for baskets. Very geometric, tight layered weave, so many zig zags. watertight, sealed with tree resin. The patterns shown here are repetitive angular shapes and zig zag lines, following square and diamond weave shapes.

Dwarven beading, on leather or woven cloth. Very geometric, but also kinda kaleidoscope. So much texture, evokes mountain imagery and stones, more beads = more formal. Metal, wood, and stone beads. The patterns here are made of many small lines and circles and other simple shapes, packed close together in directional lines that form large shapes. Some of them mimic a woven texture.

End description)

Decided I needed to practice textile designs so I can make unique visuals on my characters' clothes.

#mm world details #mm illustrations

[memento-morianon]

(Image description: two sketched pages of a short comic titled "child Mori meets He-esh". It shows a young humanoid child with bird-like wings standing with an elf woman and an older orc man.

the bird child is shown up close, holding the elf woman's hand and looking up at the orc man. the child only comes up to his knee. the orc says: "well, who's this?" and the elf responds: "oh, hello He-esh."

in the second panel, the bird child is shown from above in a more extreme perspective to emphasize how tiny he is. the orc continues: "I've never seen anyone with feathers before. They're so cute. Can I hold them?" to which the elf says: "you can try. he's shy." the bird child looks worried.

the next two panels show close ups on the orc's large hand and curled tusks as he reaches out and says: "Come here, child... don't be afraid." following this, the last panel on page 1 shows the child clinging to the elf woman's skirt and crying loudly while she says: "oh dear..."

page 2 shows one more panel of this interaction, with the elf woman smiling apologetically at the orc, who has crouched down and looks quite despondent. the elf woman says: "maybe another time." and the orc responds with a sad: "aw". this panel is followed by a time skip caption that reads: "eventually..."

In the next two panels, the bird child is shown close up with the orc's large hand again. the orc says: "hello little one." and the bird child squints at him suspiciously before hopping up onto his hand and beginning to climb his arm, which makes him respond with a surprised: "oh!"

in the final two panels, the bird child climbs up and perches on the orc's shoulder, looking surprised at how high up he is, but not afraid. the orc grins and says: "well, look at you!" and then points at him and turns to other people not shown on the page, exclaiming: "hey look! he trusts me now!" end description)

a little backstory doodle, since this interaction is mentioned in my draft for chapter 1

#mm characters #mm illustrations

[memento-morianon]

made a sticker for anyone to slap onto their work if they need to

#yeah oh boy lol #had a rather tedious conversation with a discord acquaintance recently #wherein i explained that yes actually it was wrong for Death to save the life of a child for purely selfish and thoughtless reasons #using twisted and dangerous magic to do so #only to then abandon the child because they realized how stupid their impulsive decision was #they were objectively making a bad choice #even if the outcome is objectively pretty good because the child goes on to live a decent life #even if he is plagued by trauma and magical side effect problems #and hoo boy the reading comprehension of some people #is going to get me in a lot of drama #because i know a lot of younger readers are also not going to be able to handle that nuance in my very much adult book #objectively bad choices sometimes have objectively good outcomes #but the initial choice was still bad #and also sometimes a character is a metaphor for survivor's guilt #and having their life saved for basically no reason at all is part of the metaphor