enchanted book: secret satina!

[cozen]

FORM: Magic book (and word of mouth + transcription for anyone who can't read).
SENDER: Bastien
RECIPIENT: Everyone
NOTES: Responses public unless otherwise stated so feel free to comment/threadjack. Deadline to sign up is October 24, 2024. You'll be PMed the name of your gift recipient(s) on October 25, and the deadline to ICly shoot them a comment with their gift will be November 2.

SECRET SATINA
To participate in this year's secret gift exchange for Satinalia please provide the following.

1. Name
2. Likes (colors, foods and flavors, genres, activities, and so on)
3. Dislikes (see above)
4. Deepest secret ☺

If you choose to sign up your reluctant friends without telling them & they do not look in the book to notice & stop it, make sure you are also willing to get a gift for their assigned recipient on their behalves if they do not give in and participate.

<b>1. Name:</b> <b>2. Likes:</b> <b>3. Dislikes:</b> <b>4. Deepest secret:</b>

Comments

[aberratic]

Oh, I've read about the Avvar! There's not a lot about your people in the written record, like the Dalish, so most of what I know is "they exist, somewhere", but,

[ as invested as astrid had been explaining her opinions on storytelling, ness is equally invested in learning about the avvar, and it shows in her voice. ]

That's fascinating! But how do you ensure the skalds tell the stories the same? Oral tradition is a good starting point, but it's so easy for someone to just... change things, because they felt like it, and then that's just how the story is. How do you ensure a poem is passed down accurately? And then, what if the last skald who knows a story dies? What if a skald decides a story should never be told again and they just take it to their grave?

[ for all the insensitivity of the questions, at least ness sounds genuinely interested in astrid's answers... ]

[brennvin]

( She rolls with it as if blunt insensitive questions are in fact the easier thing; because, well, they are. She doesn’t mind. )

Of course they don’t stay the same, ( Astrid says, surprised. ) They’re gonna change and evolve. Mostly they do try to keep it the same, like, and the big important beats stay, but maybe some plant has died out so someone changes a reference on the fly to be some other flower people’d actually recognise and know the meaning of. Maybe there’s some sentence that’s really clunky so they rephrase it so it sounds better. It gets improved, it stays fresh. You keep it alive, keep it so’s it makes sense to the people listening. The world is always changing, so stories do too. Nothing stays the same forever.

And people change books too, don’t they? There’s such a thing as an edit-or.

[aberratic]

[ it takes all of ness's decade-plus of practice being cool not to verbally express her dismay, which gets worse with every word out of astrid's mouth. ]

Yyyes, [ is an inoffensive place to start, ] editors exist for books. That's... a slightly different process depending on if one is editing pure fiction or history, though.

[ now to the hard part: how can she possibly explain something that seems so basic without being a condescending asshole? ]

In my previous life, there was a group of monks whose sole and only job was reciting the prophecies of a great seer of our home. They recite it day in, day out, constantly, with no changes—until a prophecy comes true, and it's removed from the chant. We name our years by these prophecies, we use them to predict calamity and ruin.

We know they're unchanged, because the prophecies were also written down. If we didn't have the written record, and had to rely only on the memory and whims of the Chanter, and the Voices of the Winds...

[ do you see? do you understand why the fallibility of memory and the editorializing of history is To Be Avoided?? ]

[brennvin]

( In her adventures in this wide outside world over the past year, there’s always the smaller differences: Rivain likes their foods spicy while the Avvar favour plainer, hardier fare. Orlais favours more ornamentation in their furniture. The Nevarrans inter their dead while hers dismember theirs. These are, ultimately, smaller differences; matters of cultural flavour, easily understood.

But for the first time, Astrid’s run facefirst into a core, foundational, contradictory belief about how the world works and what even matters about it, and she finds herself squinting at her crystal at an equal loss. The same question’s running through her own mind: How can she possibly explain something that seems so basic? ]

Stories told for fun and flavour are different from prophecies. Even then, though— if the prophecy’s accurate and it’s gonna happen anyway, then what does it matter to keep track of ’em? If it’s right it’s right and it’ll still come to pass.

🎀

[aberratic]

[ what do you even say to someone whose base understanding of the world is not just so different to your own, but almost entirely contradictory? of all the conversations ness has prepared herself for having, this was nowhere on the list. she didn't know it could even happen. ]

That is... an interesting perspective.

[ it's as diplomatic a thing as she can think to say, and it's not even very diplomatic, being as she sounds like she's met an alien she's trying very hard not to offend. she has to exit this conversation as quickly as possible. ]

I just remembered—I left something important in my office, I have to go. Thank you for speaking with me!

[ the crystals don't click, but like. if they did. click.

this doesn't even get a sarcastic #nailedit, this could not have been less nailed. ]