I love posting and then frantically editing fifteen times within five minutes of posting to fix all of the errors that weren't visible in the google doc
What is life if not the contrast between what has been and what will become?
Of Oranges Like Sunset / Discussion
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Took me a huge effort to actually get to writing for a piece that I considered nearly perfect in everything but having an ending. Glad I was of help, because this is the kind of story that keeps me up at night, full of dread.
This piece is suffused with the notes of so many other works its insane. It is a smorgasbord, a loving and living Manifestation of the world's best hors d'oeuvre. Styg, I can see you in this piece as clear as day- cosmic horror mixed with the fear of the known and unknown, stirred together and simmered over a low heat, seasoned with red pepper flakes of excellent prose. Despite the fact you spelled gray wrong twice (Yeah I saw). Once again you've succeeded in creating elegance, my eyes and mouth watering as the dish nears my table. Din, this was also just so you. A focus on workdbuilding, constantly stirring, adding flavor and spices to perfectly compliment Styg's piece. The remnants of a dying world were your grains of rice, and upon each you carved a single word to make your art. You two work together beautifully- this piece was a treat, a gift from two unknowable entities whose presence fills me with awe.
I watch the yonder hills
See foodwrenches toil in dust
Let their cacophonous calls
Rend our bodies to rust
IT'S GREY YOU AMERICAN PANCAKE
-styg
What is life if not the contrast between what has been and what will become?
My thoughts on a second read reain extremely similar to my first- a delightful, delicious, delirious telling of a quest so fecund with ancient terror it boggles the mind that it was accomplished. the two of you are like five-course meal, leaving me swollen and destitute financially, but joyous for having binged. One of the best of your collabs.
-Avalon, no longer Gaton
I watch the yonder hills
See foodwrenches toil in dust
Let their cacophonous calls
Rend our bodies to rust
Never have I found failure so fulfilling, death so comforting, bleak inevitability so hopeful. This is beautiful, powerful, and melancholy in the way that a sunset at the end of the world is.
Styg, Din, you've outdone yourselves. Brilliant +1.
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