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<title>Zk | cycles-heat</title>
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<title>Zk | Unseeing On cycles, sun, and heat</title>
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<h1>Zk | cycles-heat</h1>
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<h1>Zk | Unseeing On cycles, sun, and heat</h1>
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<article class="content">
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<p>Lyut lives his life in prayer and devotion. It is a life that is lived ascending in a steady spiral of years, for time moves upward and yet is echoed below by the change of days, the change of weeks, the change of seasons. This year, this day, this soft spring is an echo of last soft spring beneath it. It is antipodal to the autumn that will come</p>
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<p>So this morning, he lays in the sun next to Ýng, beside Ýng, and revels in all that Ýng has created, rather than singing praises to Them, because it is important even for the ascetic to understand the beauty of the world, the wonder and delight in it. It is as important for Lyut to feel the way his fur tugs at the sun, collects the warmth, and the way the sun pulls the water from him. It is important for Lyut to feel the ground beneath him and hear in its silence the praises to his lord. It is important for Lyut to marvel in the way Ýng’s sun shuns the underside of leaves and follows the bark of the trees on the side it faces. It is important for Lyut to bake until he’s panting and gulping in breaths of air, and then it is important for him to crawl back into his cave, stricken from the sun by the laws of directionality that he understands on a visceral level far beyond a visual one, for sight is not a sense he possesses.</p>
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<p>And then it is time for him to remove his simmering broth from the fire and to sip it from the cool shade of his cave, straining it through sharp teeth to prevent fine carapaces and finer bones from getting caught in his throat, unsalted but nonetheless savory, until, despite the heat of the broth, his thirst is quenched.</p>
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<p>This, Lyut knows, Lyut relishes, is the cycle of the day, the cycle of the year, and, his lord promises him, the cycle of his life.</p>
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<p>Ýng is a liar, but it is a kind lie, for when Lyut dies, I will take him unto me. I will take him together into my bowl and crush and knead and he will rejoice with me and I will rejoice with him and then whatever rest he has now, whatever glory he knows now, whatever elation he may feel shall be pale in comparison to what comes after.</p>
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<p>Ýng is a liar, but it is a kind lie, for when Lyut dies, I will take him unto me. I will take him and his acts in life together into my bowl and crush and knead and he will rejoice with me and I will rejoice with him and then whatever rest he has now, whatever glory he knows now, whatever elation he may feel shall be pale in comparison to what comes after.</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-22</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-30</p>
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<title>Zk | discovered</title>
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<title>Zk | Unseeing - Rejoicing</title>
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<h1>Zk | discovered</h1>
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<h1>Zk | Unseeing - Rejoicing</h1>
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<p>When Zita came up from the village, bearing an armload of flatbread and a small basket full of spice cakes for Lyut, he had ceased his conversation with Týw and had ceased meditating by laying on the ground, and had instead settled for sitting cross-legged in the entrance to his cave looking out. Zita sang as she walked, as she had for the last ten festival weeks, and so Lyut heard her before he saw her.</p>
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<title>Zk | foraging</title>
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<title>Zk | Unseeing - Foraging and Fishing</title>
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<h1>Zk | foraging</h1>
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<h1>Zk | Unseeing - Foraging and Fishing</h1>
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<p>After prayer, Lyut feeds his fire and sits for a while before it to ensure that the sound of the wood burning is just as it should be and that the heat of the fire is neither too hot nor too cool, for he knew that a hot-burning fire that roared and rushed with the voice of Ýng’s anger was one that would at best burn out too soon.</p>
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<p>With the smoke of the fire mingling with that of his incense, with the scent of his devotion lingering in his nose and clinging to his fur and stinging sightless eyes, he takes up his knife walking stick and pads slowly down the path from his cave to the section of river he calls his own. His feet guide him with soft shuffling. His stick guides him with gentle tapping. His ears guide him with the sounds of the river. Ýng guides him with their hand on his shoulder.</p>
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<p>With the smoke of the fire mingling with that of his incense, with the scent of his devotion lingering in his nose and clinging to his fur and stinging sightless eyes, he takes up his knife walking stick and pads slowly down the path from his cave to the section of river he calls his own. His feet guide him with soft shuffling. His stick guides him with gentle tapping. His ears guide him with the sounds of the river. Ýng guides him with Their hand on his shoulder.</p>
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<p>At the river by his cave, there is a pool where the water flows out from between two rocks, and it is across that gap that he has strung a net.</p>
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<p>So Lyut sets his stick aside and crawls on hands and knees to one of the rocks and with a long-practiced sweep of his fingers through the water, he catches up the cords of the far end of the net from where they lay on the bank and sweeps his arm around to draw the net around and back toward him.</p>
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<p>Ýng has smiled on him today, and in the net he feels the dancing of a fish and, upon dragging the net ashore, feels in its grasp also the hard-shelled forms of the crawfish that live their silent lives on the bottom of the silt-bedded river.</p>
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<p>I have smiled on him today, and in the net he feels the dancing of a fish and, upon dragging the net ashore, feels in its grasp also the hard-shelled forms of the crawfish that live their silent lives on the bottom of the silt-bedded river.</p>
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<p>The net entire is laid flat upon the shore to let the fish and crustaceans drown in air while Lyut cleans his paws and knife in the water of the stream.</p>
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<p>To wash in cold water is to speak a prayer of cleanliness to Ýng, but also to me, to me who knows the meaning of light in a way the god of the sun cannot, in a way that blind Lyut cannot, and so I sup upon those prayers even as the ascetic guts the fish with measured care, washes once more in the stream, and then with practiced slowness strings his net once more, letting the constant stream of water flow brightly through the pounded and woven reeds to catch fish, to catch food.</p>
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<p>Dripping and naked, Lyut takes crawls upstream along the shore, fingers crawling among the grass until he comes across the fronds of a fiddle-head fern of which he plucks two. Washes once more and then wraps them around his daily catch of fish and sluggish crawfish, packs them around with clay from the riverbank.</p>
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<p>Takes then his stick in hand and taps his way back to his cave, where, after banking a portion of the fire, his bundle is nestled among the hot coals until it is dry and parched on the outside.</p>
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<p>In the meantime, Lyut walks carefully into the woods perpendicular to the hill on which his cave rests, brushing aside further fronds to the place where his nose tells him he may make water and void his bowels. After finishing, another trip to the river is made, this time carrying a jug slung over his shoulder to be filled with water for his camp.</p>
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<p>By then, the smell of steamed fish is beginning to escape from the clay baker that he has formed, and the time to break his fast is upon him.</p>
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<p>His walking stick, hard and long-cured, is used to drag the baked clay from the embers and the jug of water put in its place to bring to a boil. He says a short prayer to Ýng for his bounty, for his food, and for the taking of three lives in order to fill his belly, and by the time the last word is finished, the clay is cool enough to tap and crack apart to exposed his steamed food.</p>
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<p>His walking stick, hard and long-cured, is used to drag the baked clay from the embers and the jug of water put in its place to bring to a boil. He says a short prayer to Ýng for his bounty, for his food, and for the taking of three lives in order to fill his belly, and by the time the last word is finished, the clay is cool enough to tap and crack apart to exposed his steamed food. I sup from that prayer as well, for I provided him with his meal.</p>
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<p>He sets the spent clay aside and unfurls the ferns from around his food. His first bite is of the curled heads of the fronds, seasoned with the fat of the fish and the heady scent of crawfish. His second and third bites are the flesh of the fish scraped away from soft bones with sharp teeth. The rest of his meal is a silent contemplation of what wonderful complexities the silty life of a crustacean may hold even as the tails are pulled from the crawfish, the meat eaten from within, and the butter sucked from the heads.</p>
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<p>Fish skeleton and crawfish shells both are placed in the jug of water now boiling, the makings of a thin broth which will be his sup for the rest of the day.</p>
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<p>For the third and final time, Lyut washes that day, and I revel in the act of his careful attention to his postprandial grooming. This is the time when he ensures that all of his fur is clean and free of ticks and fleas. This is the time when he massages the dirt out of his pawpads. This is the time when he brushes his whiskers. This is the time when he lays his fur in order. This is the time when he makes himself pure in body before Ýng, having already made himself pure in spirit.</p>
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<p>Too, this is the time when he makes himself pure before me, though he knows it not. This is the time when he gives thought to the direction his fur is facing. This is the time when he gives thought to any dirt which may cover him. This is the time when he, blind pekania, blind fisher, puts thought, however abstract, into his appearance.</p>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-22</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-30</p>
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<title>Zk | learning</title>
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<title>Zk | Unseeing - Lyut learns to see</title>
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<h1>Zk | learning</h1>
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<h1>Zk | Unseeing - Lyut learns to see</h1>
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<p>Lyut is slow to begin moving, and when he does, he walks as though a great dream has come upon him. He lets Ýng guide his movements and I stand apart from the lord and Their servant.</p>
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<title>Zk | punishment</title>
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<title>Zk | Unseeing - Consequences</title>
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<h1>Zk | punishment</h1>
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<h1>Zk | Unseeing - Consequences</h1>
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<p>(Tyw comes walking up to Lyut, an all white ermine)
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The next morning, a second strange occurrence greets Lyut when he opens his eyes. Sitting at the entrance to his cave is a creature very much like him in many ways, but in many ways different. Long and lithe, yes, strong and slender, yes, but shorter, and with fur of the purest white as opposed to the dark brown of his own. Too, a face more slender and ears larger, and on the tip of his tail, the fur is dark black.</p>
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<p>The next morning, a second strange occurrence greets Lyut when he opens his eyes. Sitting at the entrance to his cave is a creature very much like him in many ways, but in many ways different. Long and lithe, yes, strong and slender, yes, but shorter, and with fur of the purest white as opposed to the dark brown of his own. Too, a face more slender and ears larger, and on the tip of his tail, the fur is dark black.</p>
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<p>“Who are you?”</p>
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<p>I smile to him. “It is I, faithful. It is Týw.”</p>
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<p>A look of confusion comes over his face, and I must hold back amusement as the fisher sits up and rubs his eyes, looking around as though the answers were to be found in the air itself.</p>
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<title>Zk | seeing</title>
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<title>Zk | Unseeing - Seeing</title>
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<h1>Zk | seeing</h1>
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<h1>Zk | Unseeing - Seeing</h1>
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<article class="content">
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<p>It is the last night of the week of fasting and it is the thirtieth year that Lyut has served Ýng and myself that I have decided to change him and to change the world, for I am the god of the water and the god of watching and I am also a trickster god. My trouble will come back on me thirtyfold, I am sure, but Lyut is the thirtieth ascetic who has served me and I am ready.</p>
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<p>Lyut has once more gone to sleep hungry, belly filled with prayer and sorrow and boiled water. I come to him then. I come to him and I touch the back of his neck, then the crown of his head, then the lids of his eyes, and then I sit in the clearing and wait for him to waken.</p>
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<p>It is the last night of the week of fasting and it is the thirtieth year that Lyut has served Ýng and myself that I have decided to change him and by changing him, change the world, for am I not the god of the water and the god of watching and the god of death, and am I not also a trickster god? My trouble will come back on me thirtyfold, I am sure, but Lyut is the thirtieth ascetic who has served me and I am ready.</p>
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<p>Lyut has once more gone to sleep hungry, belly filled with prayer and sorrow and boiled water. I come to him then. I come to him and I touch the back of his neck, then the crown of his head, then the lids of his eyes, and then I sit in the clearing and wait for him to waken. I sit and watch, for that is my jurisdiction.</p>
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<p>When the pekania stirs at the slow warming of day, his eyes drift open as usual to the slit that is his habit, and then he shouts.</p>
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<p>He shouts because I am a trickster god and after thirty times thirty years of blind ascetics serving Ýng and myself, I am ready for change and I have given him sight.</p>
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<p>I know his thoughts: I know that when he perceives the light of the sun for the first time in his forty years that he is struck with a mighty pain and a fear far greater than any accident with a knife could cause him, and so I watch him scramble back into his cave and face the back wall for ten minutes, barely breathing, eyes clenched shut. </p>
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<p>“Ýng!” he cries. “My lord, my lord, what is happening?”</p>
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<p>“Ýng!” he cries at last. “My lord, my lord, what is happening?”</p>
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<p>I answer in Ýng’s stead: “You see.”</p>
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<p>“You are not Ýng.”</p>
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<p>“I am Týw. I am the god of the moon and the water and of watching.”</p>
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<p>“I am Týw. I am the god of the moon and the water and of watching and of death.”</p>
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<p>“Týw?”</p>
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<p>“Týw,” I repeat, and smile at his confusion.</p>
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<p>“But Ýng is the god of all things.”</p>
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<p>“Ýng is the god of many things, and They are the god of me, but of those things not under his direct dominion, some are under mine, and I am the god of watching, of looking, of seeing. When you serve Ýng, you also serve me.”</p>
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<p>“Ýng is the god of many things, and They are the god of me, but of those things not under Their direct dominion, some are under mine, and I am the god of watching, of looking, of seeing. When you serve Ýng in these ways, you also serve me.”</p>
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<p>Tears course freely down his cheeks, and he says: “It hurts to see.”</p>
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<p>“You have never seen before. Come out of your cave.”</p>
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<p>He does not move, and so I wait. I know that he will need to make water soon, and I know that he is praying to Ýng, but feels the compulsion to perform his acts of service, and I know that the village below is waking up to ready itself for a day and night and week of celebration. So I wait.</p>
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<p>Too, Ýng waits, because although I sense Their wrath on the horizon, I think that it will not come yet, because this is also new for Them.</p>
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<p>He does not move, and so I wait. I know that he will need to attend to his body soon, and I know that he is praying to Ýng, but feels the compulsion to perform his acts of service, and I know that the village below is waking up to ready itself for a day and night and week of celebration. So I wait.</p>
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<p>Too, Ýng waits, because although I sense Their wrath on the horizon, I think that it will not come yet, because this is also new for Them, and They also watch.</p>
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<p>Eventually, Lyut, crawls, eyes clenched shut, on hands and knees, crawls out into the sun, and sits cross-legged in the center of his clearing.</p>
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<p>“Open your eyes, Lyut, faithful.”</p>
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<p>“You are not Ýng, you cannot command me.”</p>
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<p>“No, but you are as faithful to me as you are to Them, and so I can ask for this small obedience, just this once.”</p>
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<p>“No, but you are as faithful to me as you are to Them, and so I will ask for this small obeyance.”</p>
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<p>Lyut ponders this for a long while, his tail flitting agitatedly behind him, drawing praises to me in the packed earth. Finally, opens his eyes, a crack, a squint, and looks at his naked body, at the ground before him, at the trees around him. Tries, even, to look at the sun, and learns that the suns arrows are keenest above all to the eyes.</p>
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<p>“It hurts! It hurts!”</p>
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<p>“Do not look directly at the sun, faithful,” I laugh. “Ýng has decreed that the sun provides your life, and so it is too dear for you to behold.”</p>
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<p>“Where are you, Týw?”</p>
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<p>“I am with you.”</p>
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<p>“Can I see you?”</p>
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<p>“We are also too dear for you to see, Ýng and I, for do you not feel the way we pierce your heart and burn along your arms as you prepare the incense for our offering?”</p>
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<p>“We are also too dear for you to see with your eyes, Ýng and I, but do you not feel the way we pierce your heart and burn along your arms as you prepare the incense for our offering?”</p>
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<p>Lyut is silent once more, still once more. Tears stain tracks down his cheeks as he struggles with the sudden sight, a sense he now possesses.</p>
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<p>“Go and prepare for your day, faithful. I am with you.”</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-23</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-30</p>
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<title>Zk | zita</title>
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<title>Zk | Unseeing - Zita</title>
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<h1>Zk | zita</h1>
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<h1>Zk | Unseeing - Zita</h1>
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<p>Lyut prays and works for the rest of the day, for today is the day that he makes incense for the town below.</p>
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<p>I watch as he sleeps, fitful, and leave for him two fish in his net for his unknowing devotion to me.</p>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-22</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-11-30</p>
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