(freewriting - Selcouth experiments on some Lethean tea leaves.)

You watch as the Meticulous Apothecary performs test after test. They immerse individual leaves in glowing reagents; powder them beneath amber tools; examine them as they burn through an array of lenses.

After every single experiment, they take notes. They write pages of observations. They decant their slime into sealed vials. They rhythmically squeeze lumps of amber in their tentacles. They carefully wrap every individual item before boxing it up, and then for good measure, they label the boxes themselves.

(You are beginning to understand how they remember so much, despite the nature of their work.)

Finally, they turn to you. As I suspected, they write. Traces of irrigo. Sealed/contained/tempered in a way I do not understand, though. Aspects denatured-coagulated through exposure to an unidentified substance. I have a hypothesis guesses, but no way to confirm them.

Guesses?

They have a. They pause. Their tentacles squirm as they consider how to communicate something completely incomprehensible to human senses. They write multiple words and cross all of them out. Something that suggests a relation to death, they finally write. (They underline "something," apparently disgruntled at the generality of the word.)

That makes... quite a bit of sense, actually, considering the supposed providence of these leaves. Aren't there multiple rivers that flow through the land of the dead?

So I hear, they write. But I have no way to obtain a sample. Unlike for humans, death is one-way for us.

There is something peevish in the slant of their writing. You suppose that is only fair.

every day I sweat bullets over the fact that I've committed to none of my characters getting married in-game (because none of them are the kind to marry, for various reasons) and that this means I will never get that coveted +1 to their Specialty Magcat

each of my FL OCs has a Specific Advanced Skill that they are experts in, canon-wise, and it's one of my mostly-pointless[1] goals to get them to 20 (or higher!) in each of those Specific Advanced Skills in-game. that means I want:

• 20 Artisan of the Red Science on the doctor
• 20 A Player of Chess on Rafael
• 20 Kataleptic Toxicology on Wren

Rafael and Wren's are attainable without spouses - their ambition treasures align with their primary stats. the doctor's, however, is not because his treasure gives APoC instead. I have sat here considering whether I want to fudge his items a bit and give him a slightly less fitting destiny to at least get him to 19. but spouse? I am Immovable on that[2]

(some freewriting: Nathan and the Correspondence)

The man who greets you at the door is wan but handsome, of respectable dress and a way of carrying himself that betrays an aristocratic upbringing. His eyebrows are intact, his long hair unsinged - only a few bandages on his fingers betray his true profession. This must be the doctor's... friend? Associate? Partner?

"Colleague, after a manner," he says, with a warm smile. "And you must be the pupil he mentioned. The one who wants to understand the Correspondence on a deeper level."

[...]

"A common mistake for those new to the Correspondence," he says, "is to conflate the sigils with what they represent.

"By way of analogy, take our own language." In normal ink, he writes the word "joyousness" upon the paper. "When we write a word - one that already exists, that is - we are not bringing it into being. Nor are we bringing its associated concept into being. Both existed before the writing, and both will continue existing, even if this particular inscription is destroyed." With two quick strokes, he strikes out his writing.

"So, if we're not bringing a word into existence when we write it, what are we doing?"

Invoking it, perhaps?

"Correct," he says. He inscribes a sigil: THE EAGER ANTICIPATION WITH WHICH ONE BEHOLDS AN OPEN HORIZON. It sputters to life, blackening the paper with little licks of flame. "Not everything about the Correspondence can be understood in relation to human language. After a certain point, the metaphor will hinder your comprehension, instead of helping it. But as a beginner, there are worse misunderstandings to have."

(answering as both Lucent and the good doctor because I think it would be fun)

what is a core memory from your childhood that you think defines you today?

Lucent:
"You know, I was seriously ill once, when I was a kit. But they brought the village mender to see me. And she held out her hand, and... the warmth of her magic chased away the sickness, just like that.

This is the kind of thing every somanoutics hopeful writes on their applications, I know. Though an applicant would tell you that this taught them the meaning of compassion. For me... well, it was just fascinating! I could feel the cold and the pain and the weakness being chased away, and I could feel my body knitting itself back together as I laid there. And she was happy to teach me! I was going to become her apprentice... and then puberty happened.

Despite everything, I'm grateful that the Studium gave me the chance to pick up where she left off.

The doctor:
"Oh, childhood... that strange country to which none return. Much like the Surface, for those of us who partake too deeply of the Neath's generosity. Haha. An innocent time! A sunlit time. Shattered by the truths seen only in the dark.

No. I have been foremost changed, shaped by what I have encountered here, as a true denizen of the Neath. Germany is a world away... childhood is a lifetime ago. All has led to what lies ahead..."

if there's something from your past that you'd give anything to go back in time and redo, what is it?

Lucent:
"...Only one thing comes to mind, and I don't know if it would have made a difference. Hatia, my mentor - she died of an incurable disease. If we'd known sooner, maybe we could have bought her more time. But maybe that's all we could have done. And I'm not sure if it would have made any difference to her husband, in the end. I... don't know if anything we could have done would have made any difference to him, in the end.

...This is why I don't like these questions. We did our best with what we knew. All we can do is to continue doing that. The river of knowledge flows only onwards."

The doctor:
"Regrets? Ha. Haha... Who among us does not have them? In the Neath, of all places! Regrets swim as thickly as secrets!

What would I give? What would I give? Oh, but why would I give up something precious for the sake of the past? When the future is ripe with opportunities to right the wrongs both old and new? We can only move forward, my friend, and that is exactly what I plan to do. The heavens willing, or not. Hahaha!"