#terne (working title)
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Three more! Still nine before I'm done with this project!
Trois de plus ! Encore neuf et j'aurai terminé ce projet !
#art#personnages originaux#original project#terne (working title)#Alian Marchevent#Fir des Neiges#Neasa Evrenn
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so as a biology major, here's some things i've been chewing on after reading the unwanted guest. this post is brought to you by the part of my brain that saw the 7th's hereditary blood cancer and thought ok but what KIND of cancer is that.
the phrasing of "permeability of the soul" makes me think of semipermeable membranes and diffusion. diffusion is a passive process -- our molecules, when left to their own devices, want to be everywhere because entropy, but the semipermeable membranes that make up cells organelles etc make life possible by keeping things organized. this dividing & filtering process is required to keep things in place. with me so far?
to me, this concept of permeability emphasizes that souls are objects with boundaries. there's a line somewhere, however blurry (clearly very very blurry) or porous, that divides self & other, and! and!! that line only exists because it is somehow constructed, maintained, enforced. see: ianthe working so hard to convince herself/pal/the hypothetical audience of this play she's putting on that she's just ianthe with no babs mixed in. or john's ritual of retelling his story to alecto/harrow in NTN. something something being the unreliable narrator of your own identity.
palamedes calls the process that merges him and camilla to give us paul grand lysis vs. the "petty", incomplete lysis of eightfold word lyctorhood. lysis = the disintegration of a cell by rupture of the cell wall or membrane. the boundaries of their souls are sliced open so their contents can be poured out & mixed together to make someone new. but even in conventional lyctorhood, there's some kind of exchange of whatever material makes up the soul between cavalier & necromancer. as our boy tells ianthe at the end of the unwanted guest,
This is the real truth of Lyctorhood, Ianthe--it's not some bloodless swapping-out of batteries. It's grafting; transplantation. When you absorbed Naberius Tern's soul, you didn't swallow a diamond. You swallowed a piece of meat...and the longer you digest that meat, the more its proteins and lipids and molecules mix in with yours, until you can't tell them apart anymore.
idk where i'm even going with all of this, i'm just rotating it in my head, but:
tamsyn muir is so precise with her necromancy jargon & anatomical terms that i feel like there's definitely meaning to be found in the imagery here. there is poetry in biology, the universe is made of stories not of atoms, etc etc
it turns out lysis is also the title of a dialogue of plato on "the true nature of loving friendship," so if any classics enjoyers have thoughts on that connection i would love to hear them!
if lyctorhood is transplantation, is it possible for that transplant to be rejected? can the graft refuse to take?
souls are contained within their edges not unlike how a cell membrane contains its cytoplasm. or how a capri sun pouch contains its juice. and lyctors slurp that shit up and digest it baby
why choose to link the soul so closely with water? (the river, bubbles, currents & waves in the river, nona saying the water of the river "doesn't want to touch us.") contents of souls = liquid in the same way that the river is a liquid??? the river = spirit version of the primordial soup???
dulcinea refers to the river having two shores, not just a generic "shore", so it sounds like they're different in some meaningful way. but that may be conditional on what happens in alecto ("if this ends well you'll find that out")? is the point of the river the river itself, or is the point of the river to separate those two places?
#tlt meta#the unwanted guest#the unwanted guest spoilers#the locked tomb#tlt speculation#on lyctorhood#the river#tamsyn i am in! your! walls!!!#(if you have thoughts on any of this please do engage i'm SO interested to hear other people's interpretations)#my posts#necro science#necromancy studies
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Gideon the Ninth Appendices (continued)
Cohort Intelligence Files
Oh, these are written by Judith!
Wow, she and Marta joined the Cohort when they were literal children - eleven and ten, respectively. I guess it's somewhat common to burden little kids with responsibilities early amongst the Nine Houses?
On Naberius Tern:
He also has an extremely good opinion of himself and his swordplay, an opinion that Lt. Dyas notes occasionally aligns with reality.
Oh I love the subtle shade here. I'm also noting that Coronabeth's charisma seems to dazzle even Judith Deuteros as she is writing this, since she doesn't know about her or Ianthe's necromantic prowess - yes they were homeschooled, but knowing that necromancers are usually frail, wouldn't you wonder whether Ianthe is more necromantically apt, quietly, from her sister's shadow?
I guess not.
On Isaac Tettares:
the eldest of eight. [...] Father killed by terrorists out on [REDACTED] nineteen years ago: all of his children have been posthumous and the title held in stewardship.
Interesting! Also the bit about how kids can be born either of XX-carrier or vat-womb. Reproduction sure has advanced a great deal (as has the disconnection of sex from gender, apparently - which I've noticed before, but is obvious enough here to comment on it!)
Anyway, as we learned in Harrow the Ninth, the father does not have to be physically present for a child to get their genetic material. All you need is said genetic material. If you're in an important position in your House, presumably it's custom to save an amount of genetic material so you can continue to have heirs in the event of your death.
It seems customary for the Fourth to go to school at the Fifth, which explains the close relationship between Isaac and Jeannemary, and Abigail and Magnus.
On Protesilaus:
He's married??? He has children???? Oh my goodness, that makes his unfortunate demise at Cytherea's hands so much more tragic.
... Okay, I think that's all I really have to say on that!
A little explanation of naming systems
I did already get the idea, literally from the Dramatis Personae in Gideon the Ninth, that names refer to your House. Interesting to me is that they work differently to current surnames: people have different last names to their parents, and their last names are at least somewhat unique to them. Even siblings rarely share a name, making Coronabeth and Ianthe exceptions to the rule.
Interesting!!
Pelleamena and Priamhark: It shouldn't surprise me that these two are named for people in the Iliad. I kind of figured, with Priamhark, but it's a little less obvious with Pelleamena.
I adore the little pronounciation guides, tbh.
Crux, to rhyme with "sucks": Yeah sounds about right
Marta Dyas: DIE-ass. I'm sorry, I couldn't come up with anything better.
You know, I'm glad I decided to dig into these in a bit more detail, because Tamsyn's notes on these are hilarious.
On Ianthe and Coronabeth:
In the original, Ianthe and Corona were "Cainabeth and Abella", a feat of naming so unsubtle that I might as well have just gone with "Goodtwin" and "Badtwin". And it's not even accurate! It should be Badtwin, and Lessbadtwin.
I'm reminded of Coronabeth going "She could have taken me!!!" after Ianthe became Lyctor. Oh, she sure could have! Why do you sound jealous, Coronabeth?
On Jeannemary and Isaac:
Isaac here foreshadows Gideon's death by doing the "bravest and stupidest" thing, i.e. getting his abdomen made into a huge Connect-4 board. I might as well have called Jeannemary and Isaac "Don'tgetattached" and "Deadsoon".
Okay, rude. I mean, I didn't end up reading into the naming while reading Gideon for the first time, though maybe I should have. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten so attached (and upset) when they were both deadsoon.
On Palamedes:
Pal-AM-a-dees. At first I had a coarse comparison here, but then I removed it.
Palamadeez nuts, lol. So rude, Tamsyn.
Oh wow, more foreshadowing in the names of Dulcinea and Protesilaus. Wow. Okay remind me to dissect any new names that come up in Nona the Ninth (whenever I get to actually reading that).
... Okay, we're done with the appendices of Gideon the Ninth!!
Now soon to follow: Appendices of Harrow the Ninth, including As Yet Unsent, then I will read The Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex, and then, then finally, we will start on our reread of Gideon and Harrow.
I can't wait!
#tlt liveblog#the locked tomb liveblog#tlt spoilers#the locked tomb#tlt#gideon the ninth#harrow the ninth#gideon the ninth appendices
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Follow the compass East to find harmony.
Alongside the eastern coast, where the waves of the Whipping Sea beat roughly onto the rocky cliffs, lives a peaceful and fun-loving group of cats who never let anyone else shake their faith in each other and themselves.
Are you a lost wanderer, looking for somewhere to call home, but hope to find a place full of love and understanding? The Clowder beckons you East.
At a Glance
Deity: Prosperity/Tugging Current
Element / Season: Water, Spring
Main Teachings: Harmony and Wisdom
Lifestyle: Relaxed and easy-going - the Clowder values peace and positivity
Education: Trainees are trained at 8 moons old by the senior members
Leadership: Non-traditional monarchy - the title of Watcher of the Rain is usually passed down through the bloodline, but the Clowder isn't strict about it and don't care much for blood "purity"
Naming: Two-word system; often words relating to the sea or ocean life; ex: Soaring Auk, Thundering Wave
Territory
Region: The Whipping Sea
Camp: Peace Cove
Environment: Vast open ocean, beaches (mostly rocky, some sandy), soaring cliffs
Flora: Very low vegetation - some shrubs further inland and within the Cove, seaweed, dune grass
Fauna: Fish (drum, bass, tuna, perch), large marine animals (dolphins, sharks, barracuda, marlin), semi-aquatic animals and birds (sea snakes, gulls, terns, sandpipers)
The Clowder Throughout History
The Founders (Years 0-13)
Founded by a cat named Auk, who discovered Prosperity living alone by the sea and became their companion. Prosperity showed Auk the way of peace, love, and wisdom; teachings that he would then go on to demonstrate to other lone cats, showing them how to live off the coast and live a life full of harmony. Auk eventually became Soaring Auk and the leader of the newfound Clowder. Prosperity, feeling fond and like their work was completed, vanished into the ocean to leave their companion to his new life.
The Age of Sucession (Years 14-27)
Soaring Auk goes missing, and many Clowder cats assume his longing became too unbearable and he joined Prosperity in the sea. The Clowder wishes him well, and Soaring Auk's youngest child, Dolphin Cry, is looked at as the next Watcher of the Rain.
The First Compass War (Years 28-34)
The Clowder remains uninvolved for a large chunk of the War. Because they rarely venture inland, the War went over for almost two years before they even discovered it's happening, and even then it was from a passing remark by a loner about all the bloodshed further west.
When the Wings initially reached out to the Clowder, nearly four years into the war, Dolphin Cry refused to provide assistance. It wasn't the Clowder's fight. While some of the eastern cats disagreed, there wasn't any opinions strong enough in the Wings' favor to justify speaking out. However, when the younger sister of a deceased Feather came alone to plead their case again, this time striking fear in Dolphin Cry's heart by claiming that the Empire will push further east and kill them too, he agreed to help.
The Clowder heads west to help the Wings plan how to take down General Silkweaver. Dolphin Cry becomes even more sympathetic to their cause by seeing how the Empire's destruction has affected them. The Clowder joins to the Wings in the final showdown with the Empire, only to be shocked and horrified when Loyalty, the Empire's Divine, moves to strike down Silkweaver. The younger sister who had pled the WIngs' case to the Clowder, and subsequently vanished, emerges from the river to rip her apart instead. Upon vanishing again, after declaring that the War is over, the sister gains the moniker Estelar and becomes the first ruler of the Fury.
The War of Flames and Flood (Years 35-39)
Post-War, many Clowder cats stay behind the help the Wings rebuild, most notably Dolphin Cry's son, Thundering Wave.
Thundering Wave only intended to stay for a few moons, but ended up falling in love with a gentle tomcat of the Wings, and ending up staying closer to two whole years with the southerners to be with him and become his mate.
Throughout that time, Dolphin Cry's mental health began declining rapidly, and he begins to resent the Wings for stealing his son. Thundering Wave chooses to leave his mate and return home to try and soothe his father, but to no avail - Dolphin Cry merely turns his resentment towards his own son, instead.
After months of tension, Thudering Wave's mate heads east and try and check on him, only to be cornered by Dolphin Cry against the cliffs of Highstones. Thundering Wave manages to convince his father that there was no deeper threat from the Wings at all, that he just fell in love and that is why he stayed. Luckily, the two mates were able to soothe the tensions before bloodshed could occur, but the incident still gained a nasty moniker in history.
The Golden Age (Years 40-47)
Dolphin Cry has stepped down as Watcher, due to his realization of his actions and his failing mental state, and lets Thundering Wave take over, mate at his side. Due to this new leadership, the relationship with the Wings repairs itself rapidly.
Trade is established between the newly-four groups.
The Second Compass War (Years 48-52)
The Clowder knows nothing of Scorch's plans to frame them for the murder of the Fury's royal family, until Scorch's mother informs all of the leaders after his murder. Harsh Sand, the newly-titled Watcher, hesitantly agrees to head north to help clear up the confusion with the other leaders; however, they end up encountering a Fury on the way by the name of Wynather, alongside the Wing assassin's mangled body. Wynather waves off the other leaders, claiming that they knew the truth of the assassinations and no harm was done, and announced themself the new Monarch in the North.
The Council of the Four Points (Year 53)
The Empire's General, Iceheart, comes up with the idea to meet every moon to discuss grievances and any other updates between groups to avoid miscommunications. The other's agree - nowadays, the leaders often skip the meetings and entrust their Ambassadors with the honor.
The Wolf Queen (Years 54-Present)
[STAY TUNED.]
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Four Points is an upcoming semi-literate, 18+ roleplay that will be hosted on Discord. More information can be found at @thefourpoints.
Send in an ask if you have any questions about the Clowder and Co.!
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Timeline || General Information || Character Creation || Rules || FAQ || Maps || Allegiances || Application
#discord wcrp#warriors roleplay#warriors rp#wc rp#wcrp#discord rp#warriorcats#erin hunter warriors#wc#rp advert#rp advertisement#thefourpointsrp#group spotlight
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Okay I've had a stray ask or two but, for real. I'm currently trying to focus on a non-whump project, plus the muse is fickle and may take me wherever she may take me, but under the assumption I have spare time, energy, and any sort of control over what I'll work on,
which of my series would you like to see continued next?
Canditates are:
Royal arms
No warrior
Niveus & Tern (I should maybe probably come up with a title)
??? you tell me
there's also still the BTHB I somewhat abandoned and could take requests for actually
Send an ask, reply, reblog, whatever^^
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IN_A_MINUTE:
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AN INDIE EXPRESS…
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“JELSY” is the second single from @baritaliaa’s forthcoming LP titled ‘The Twits’ (11/3 @matadorrecords) & it finds the London-based trio of Nina Cristante, Sam Fenton & Jezmi Fehmi drowsing out across a 3:50 clip of melancholically strummed & cooly detached Indie.
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@beirutband are here w/ “THE TERN,” the second single from their forthcoming LP titled ‘Hadsel’ (11/10 Pompeii) & it finds Zach Condon’s world wearied voice working the slow-burn across 4+ mins of organ drenched, cinematically built & stunningly sustained ChamberPop.
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“UNDER GLASS” is the title-track from @kangakult’s recently released LP (@artoffact_records) & it finds the Los Angeles-based project fusing “post-apocalyptic pop sensibilities with body-shaking rhythms & sinuous melodies” across 4 ½ mins of synthetically purred ElectroPop.
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“BETTER OFF THIS WAY” is the latest single from @spiritualcramptv’s forthcoming & long-long-awaited debut self-titled LP (11/3 @bluegrapemusic) & it finds the San Francisco-based lads firing on all their garage-tinged cylinders while bringing the chanty goods across 2 zippy mins of street_strutted PubRawk.
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@vvsohot are here w/ “DREAMGIRL,” the lead single from their forthcoming LP titled ‘Deep End’ (2/9/24 @bornlosersrecords) & it finds LA-based duo of Chris Hackman (Human Barbie) & Xuan Nguyen (Xuan) bringing their 🥀 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 🥀 ways across 3 mins of bed_room_boppin & hazily textured DreamPop.
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First-lines-of-fic Meme
I was tagged by @pretty-thief. Thank you so much for this, because it sent me looking back into some of my wips that I haven't been able to work on in a long time.
Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway
I don't have any finished fics so I'll do WIPs. I'm not tagging anyone for now but please if you see this, do share and tag me!!! I wanna see what everyone is working on.
1. beneath my palms
(The Locked Tomb, a crossover AU where lyctors and cavaliers function like users and standos from JoJo's Bizarre Adventures)
Harrow felt the Lyctor three days before she found her. Ianthe Tridentarius. At least, that’s what last she had called the young woman. These days she’d have more titles. Accomplishments, for the glory of the God Emperor. She was probably the Saint of something by now as well, but Harrow hadn’t known Naberius Tern long enough to make a guess as to the Saint of what. At first she attempted to avoid Ianthe, just as she had done for… months, perhaps? Harrow wasn’t sure. She simply hadn’t stopped moving. Hadn’t stayed for long on any planetoid, hadn’t used necromancy more than necessary, had preferred to bleed or hurt instead of healing herself. She had been careful to disguise her thalergy, and even more meticulous in hiding her thanergy. It was doomed to eventually fail, of course. Harrow wasn’t stupid. But it was alright. Harrow didn’t need forever. She just needed long enough. Gideon had taught her that.
2. It’s in the Blood
(ASOIAF, aka "Video Ja(i)mes", a post-canon AU fic where Jaime dies and is trapped in a video-game-esque loop of dying and spawning again, facing different foes that are all aspects of himself)
Jaime awoke with a gasp, shaking off the dirty water on his face.
Armor creaked as he attempted to sit up. He groaned and surrendered to the mud, which caked his beard and part of his overgrown hair.
No helm. He should have his helm.
3. Nothing but Truth
(ASOIAF, Jaime and Brienne but it's the Jane Austen Emma dynamic)
The wind carried the voice to Jaime Lannister long before he reached the mansion.
“…sensical! Unbelievable!”
Jaime frowned. It was a man’s voice. An unknown one, at that. But Brienne hadn’t mentioned--
A door slammed shut. Someone shouted instructions, and a carriage began moving on the gravel. As Jaime took a turn around some bushes, the carriage appeared on the main path, heading away at full speed.
“…ever have I seen! The creature! I can’t even…!” the man kept saying from his carriage, heavens knew to who. Jaime stared blankly after it, wishing mercy on the poor coachman, until another voice came to him from the house.
“… ienne! Come back this minute! Brieeeeneeeeeee!”
Resuming his walk towards the main door, Jaime saw as a horse left the stables and galloped away into the hills.
4. mallfic (working title)
(ASOIAF, mod AU where Jaime has to chaperone Myrcella's playdate with Sansa at the mall. Since Myrcella has a crush on Sansa and wants to appear cool, she asks him to walk behind them 10 steps. shenanigans ensue.)
Jaime sat on the driver’s seat blowing out air. He checked the mirrors, adjusted his hair a little, and glanced at his wristwatch. 9:15 am.
He turned to look at the back seat and grinned.
“Ready?”
Myrcella looked back at him with all the worry, shame, and determination an 11-year-old could muster.
“Uncle,” she said, solemnly. “Before we go, there is something I need to ask you.”
5. Evenstar
(ASOIAF, post-canon AU where Brienne inherits the title of Evenstar halfway North to deliver Sansa. Consequences ensue.)
The news reached them at the inn. Pod trotted back from his incursion with a face twisted by worry, fighting the weight of the travel bag that he carried on his back.
“S-ser,” he whispered in a hurry, arms overflowing with stale bread and game pie. “It’s m-my lady ser, ser.”
Jaime frowned in alarm and looked over his shoulder. Somewhere in the woods they had left the ladies, waiting for their return. Pod shook his head, trembling.
“It’s her l-lord father, ser. T-Tarth has fallen.”
6. blindly into the light
(ASOIAF, western AU where Brienne captures the gunslinger known as the Kingslayer but doesn't intend to get the reward, for reasons only she knows)
The sound of her gun cocking roused him up.
“Easy,” she warned. The Kingslayer stayed on the floor, breathing heavily. The cave was dark enough she couldn’t see his expression, but she could read fear in his groggy silence.
“Up,” she ordered.
Clothes rustled as he obeyed, and Brienne almost smirked. She could feel his tension as he realized his weapons were gone.
“Slowly,” she drawled, eyes and muzzle trained on his silhouette.
He stood as tall as he was, hands above his head. She heard him swallow.
“How did you find me?” His voice was deep and dry. Contained.
7. Honour & Gloury (working title)
(ASOIAF, mod AU where dragons are kept as expensive pets. as a big fan of a book series about dragons, Brienne has always wanted one since childhood, but she grapples with finding joy in the whimsy while facing the hardships of grief)
Brienne wanted a dragon. It was as true as the blue of her eyes, and the freckles of her nose. A desire so hers as mists belonged to Tarth.
8. hermione & jaime crack (working title)
(ASOIAF & Harry Potter, a post-canon Hermione Granger--the newfound owner of complex PTSD--manages to enter the worlds of books, encounters one Jaime Lannister one day, they bond over loss and being children of war)
Hermione Granger blinked fast, adjusting to the light. She had been on the Room of Requirements just a second ago, before--
“Stranger take me,” a rough voice said. “Where did you come from?”
An unequivocally metallic sound filled the air, and Hermione saw the white sword gleaming in the bright morning.
It had been nighttime just a moment ago.
The man was dressed as a knight in full white armor, with a matching helm on his head and a white cape on his shoulders.
Hermione held tightly to the book in her hand, and gasped, “What the fuck?”
9. King’s Landing High School Chivalry Club
(ASOIAF, crossover Mod AU with Ouran High School Host Club where Brienne needs to face the only thing worse than rich men: rich kids)
“No way,” Brienne whispered, dashing directly to the richly dressed wall where the sword hung.
Her steps echoed as she approached, a testament to the size of the room, which was full of knicknacks till the eye could see, and yet it wasn’t full enough.
She hesitated a moment in front of the sword, breathing softly as she deliberated, but resolved to take the risk. With careful, gentle hands, she unhung the painfully detailed golden scabbard, admiring the matching lion-shaped pommel.
“It’s okay,” she muttered to herself as she gripped the handle to unsheathe it. “It can’t be an antique.”
“Hey, that’s an antique!”
10. Cyborg AU (working title)
(ASOIAF, sci-fi AU. in a world where augmentations and cyborgs are seen as lesser because only truly wealthy people can keep up with unregulated bodies, Jaime Lannister is the only one who chose to become one to wage wars for his father and his sister, the heir of an interplanetary empire. Brienne is a doctor specialized on cyborgs, given to the Lannisters as a human resource from the Starks as part of a thin and delicate deal to try to keep the powers that be in balance long enough to retrieve the Stark children from danger.)
The door swiped open to reveal a seven-feet golden armoured mass.
Even though Brienne knew he’d be coming, her breath caught. Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Lannister Army, Lord Commander of the Queensguard, was a sight to behold. His full head helmet was still on, his golden suit dented and ashened, his blastproof white cloak soiled and burnt. And his arm--his arm. It was the stuff of legends.
The Lord Commander dashed in, shouting. He stopped the first Silent Brother that walked his way, and by then every soldier on a bed, and every other Silent Sibling and Maester in the room, were eyeing each other. The golden helmet glanced around the medical facility, and when he spotted her he stomped her way. It wasn’t her area of expertise, but the exo-suit wasn’t supposed to make all that whirring, Brienne was sure.
She straightened herself and hoped, once again, Lady Catelyn knew what she was doing.
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Movie Review: "Throuple" grapples with "Petit Mal" in their relationship, as the viewer fights Petit Terne
“Petit Mal” is the ever-so-precious title of a minor Spanish melodrama about three twentysomething women who try a “throuple,” a lesbian menage a trois, on for size.
Director, writer and co-star Ruth Caudeli has crafted an intimate, quiet, self-consciously arty and petit prétentieux/petit terne (dull) film about what happens when that peaceful, work-in-progress relationship is tested by a long…
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“What the folk are those old fools on about now?”
Plunger probably aren’t the greatest authorities on the world of folk music (being singularly lacking in chunky knits, pipes, or CAMRA membership cards) but we like to think we know quality when we hear it, no matter how you pigeonhole it.
The traditional celtic harp of Chloe Matharu is probably as far from Plunger’s comfort zone as you can get but her debut album Small Voyages is a highly atmospheric evocation of a life spent by, and on, the high seas. With most tracks drawing inspiration from her career as a merchant marine navigational officer, the harp is put to good use in watery effects: tinkling like highlights on waves as in the title track, and in flowing arpeggios on Floodplains, while it’s equally at home conjuring the breezy sea thrift meadow swirl of the waltz-time Change Of Light and pizzicato music box chirrups of Arctic Terns.
Chloe began her musical career (before she gained more confidence in her harp playing) singing unaccompanied, which may explain the limpid clarity and delicate-yet-powerful quality of her voice: with elements of Denny, Haslam, Hopkins and Prior plus lots of Baezish vibrato (beautifully controlled, as best demonstrated in gradual slowing at line-ends in the title track) and a lithe suppleness that perhaps reflects her Welsh/Scots/Punjabi heritage having hints of highland puirt à beul (‘the mouth music’) and Hindustani raga particularly in some of the more ecstatic high harmonies, vaulting melodies and fluttering vibrato passages.
Other celtic influences surface in the uillean pipe-like melody of Floodplains and the anthemic pibroch progression of Ships In The Night, and producer Brian McDonald’s occasional additions of accordion, fiddle, bodhran and (Plunger assume) a very penny whistle-sounding synth. Brian’s other synth contributions include a low string-effect rumble that underpins Change Of Light, and bursts (together with drums) like breakers on the shore in the rather Enya-ish opener Catching A Free Ride.
In amongst the folky, airy reverie two tracks break the mould a little: Clyde Islands, with piano (again from Brian) taking the lead and some tricksyish rhythms from percussion, ventures more into folk-rock progressions with classic 70s ‘quiet bits’ and yer actual blaggada-boosh band break-in with full kit and squeezebox/synth whistle unison solo; while the excellent Frozen World’s dark, lyrically-dense invocation employs bodhran, ‘whistle’, and ‘bass’ in a hypnotic circular melody that’s strikingly dancefloor-like.
There’s also some judicious use of natural world SFX (recorded by Chloe herself on her trips) of seabird calls, lapping water and the like (watch out for the right-channel thunder on floodplains, Plunger spent a minute or two trying to work out who was thumping about outside until realising what it was…)
Although pretty brief at only 35 minutes long this is still a spellbinding, enthralling ‘small voyage’ round Chloe’s watery world.
Small Voyages is out now, available to order/stream here: https://girlandaharp.bandcamp.com/album/small-voyages
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The Health of Nations
We may take in turn a few of the ways in which the lives of these 30,000 victims a year may be saved; and, with their lives, the infinite sorrow, suffering, and loss which these 30,000 deaths involve. There is a book with a most happy title, the instructive record of a most useful life — I mean The Health of Nations, by the well-known reformer Sir B. Richardson. In that book Dr. Richardson has collected the writings, described the schemes, and explained the work of his friend, Edwin Chadwick, the Nestor of sanitary reform, the Jeremy Bentham of the Victorian epoch, the pioneer and venerable chief of all health reformers.
Edwin Chadwick, himself the philosophical executor and residuary legatee of old Jeremy Bentham as a social and practical reformer, in extreme and hale old age — he was born in the last century, in 1800 — was still in 1887 hearty and energetic in the cause to which he has devoted sixty years of his life—the great cause of the Health of Nations. The Health of Nations is quite as important as the Wealth of Nations. If the Health of Nations does not need the philosophical genius of Adam Smith, or the analytic genius of Jeremy Bentham, it needs a spirit of social devotedness quite as serious, and a practical energy in the apostle quite as great. As Burke told us that John Howard had devoted himself to a ‘ circumnavigation of charity private guide turkey,’ so Edwin Chadwick sixty years ago began a ‘ circumnavigation of sanitation,’ and after all his voyages he has at length finally put into port.
Of all problems
Of all problems, the most important is—water. We are drinking water that at times is contaminated with sewage, as well as with foul surface drainage, and that to a degree which under possible conditions may become deadly. I saw not long ago one of the large affluents of the Upper Thames poisoned by mineral refuse to a degree which suddenly killed the whole of the fish. This garbage — mineral poison, refuse, and decaying fish — we in London had to drink. It is true that such are the forces of nature that even mineral poison and stinking fish does not kill us always — in moderate doses. Were it not for the vis medicatrix naturce in the matter of water, air, and soil, we should all be dead men some morning, the whole four millions of us together.
This want of abundant pure water is one of the most crying wants of our age. There are two or three modes in which London can be supplied with wholesome water. Whether it is to come out of the chalk, whether it is to be collected out of several of the southern rivers at their head sources, whether it is to come by a vast aqueduct from Bala Lake, the West Midland hills, or from Ullswater, we need not discuss. But it has to come — pure, abundant, constant. Ultimately, I believe, there will be a main aqueduct down England from the lakes of Westmoreland, sending off branch mains to the greater Northern and Midland towns, and pouring into London a river like the Eamont at Penrith —an inexhaustible source of pure water, just as the Claudian or the Julian Aqueducts poured their rivers into Rome — Rome, the immortal type of all that a great city ought to have in the way of water supply.
Let us away with all the nastiness and stupidities of cis-terns, with their dirt, poison, discomfort, and cost; away with the ball-cock, and the bursting pipes, and all the abominations of bungling plumbers. A continuous water supply is a necessity of civilisation. But free water is as much a necessity of civilisation as pure water, or continuous water.
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Two badass ladies and two soft boys.
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The Health of Nations
We may take in turn a few of the ways in which the lives of these 30,000 victims a year may be saved; and, with their lives, the infinite sorrow, suffering, and loss which these 30,000 deaths involve. There is a book with a most happy title, the instructive record of a most useful life — I mean The Health of Nations, by the well-known reformer Sir B. Richardson. In that book Dr. Richardson has collected the writings, described the schemes, and explained the work of his friend, Edwin Chadwick, the Nestor of sanitary reform, the Jeremy Bentham of the Victorian epoch, the pioneer and venerable chief of all health reformers.
Edwin Chadwick, himself the philosophical executor and residuary legatee of old Jeremy Bentham as a social and practical reformer, in extreme and hale old age — he was born in the last century, in 1800 — was still in 1887 hearty and energetic in the cause to which he has devoted sixty years of his life—the great cause of the Health of Nations. The Health of Nations is quite as important as the Wealth of Nations. If the Health of Nations does not need the philosophical genius of Adam Smith, or the analytic genius of Jeremy Bentham, it needs a spirit of social devotedness quite as serious, and a practical energy in the apostle quite as great. As Burke told us that John Howard had devoted himself to a ‘ circumnavigation of charity private guide turkey,’ so Edwin Chadwick sixty years ago began a ‘ circumnavigation of sanitation,’ and after all his voyages he has at length finally put into port.
Of all problems
Of all problems, the most important is—water. We are drinking water that at times is contaminated with sewage, as well as with foul surface drainage, and that to a degree which under possible conditions may become deadly. I saw not long ago one of the large affluents of the Upper Thames poisoned by mineral refuse to a degree which suddenly killed the whole of the fish. This garbage — mineral poison, refuse, and decaying fish — we in London had to drink. It is true that such are the forces of nature that even mineral poison and stinking fish does not kill us always — in moderate doses. Were it not for the vis medicatrix naturce in the matter of water, air, and soil, we should all be dead men some morning, the whole four millions of us together.
This want of abundant pure water is one of the most crying wants of our age. There are two or three modes in which London can be supplied with wholesome water. Whether it is to come out of the chalk, whether it is to be collected out of several of the southern rivers at their head sources, whether it is to come by a vast aqueduct from Bala Lake, the West Midland hills, or from Ullswater, we need not discuss. But it has to come — pure, abundant, constant. Ultimately, I believe, there will be a main aqueduct down England from the lakes of Westmoreland, sending off branch mains to the greater Northern and Midland towns, and pouring into London a river like the Eamont at Penrith —an inexhaustible source of pure water, just as the Claudian or the Julian Aqueducts poured their rivers into Rome — Rome, the immortal type of all that a great city ought to have in the way of water supply.
Let us away with all the nastiness and stupidities of cis-terns, with their dirt, poison, discomfort, and cost; away with the ball-cock, and the bursting pipes, and all the abominations of bungling plumbers. A continuous water supply is a necessity of civilisation. But free water is as much a necessity of civilisation as pure water, or continuous water.
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Photo
The Health of Nations
We may take in turn a few of the ways in which the lives of these 30,000 victims a year may be saved; and, with their lives, the infinite sorrow, suffering, and loss which these 30,000 deaths involve. There is a book with a most happy title, the instructive record of a most useful life — I mean The Health of Nations, by the well-known reformer Sir B. Richardson. In that book Dr. Richardson has collected the writings, described the schemes, and explained the work of his friend, Edwin Chadwick, the Nestor of sanitary reform, the Jeremy Bentham of the Victorian epoch, the pioneer and venerable chief of all health reformers.
Edwin Chadwick, himself the philosophical executor and residuary legatee of old Jeremy Bentham as a social and practical reformer, in extreme and hale old age — he was born in the last century, in 1800 — was still in 1887 hearty and energetic in the cause to which he has devoted sixty years of his life—the great cause of the Health of Nations. The Health of Nations is quite as important as the Wealth of Nations. If the Health of Nations does not need the philosophical genius of Adam Smith, or the analytic genius of Jeremy Bentham, it needs a spirit of social devotedness quite as serious, and a practical energy in the apostle quite as great. As Burke told us that John Howard had devoted himself to a ‘ circumnavigation of charity private guide turkey,’ so Edwin Chadwick sixty years ago began a ‘ circumnavigation of sanitation,’ and after all his voyages he has at length finally put into port.
Of all problems
Of all problems, the most important is—water. We are drinking water that at times is contaminated with sewage, as well as with foul surface drainage, and that to a degree which under possible conditions may become deadly. I saw not long ago one of the large affluents of the Upper Thames poisoned by mineral refuse to a degree which suddenly killed the whole of the fish. This garbage — mineral poison, refuse, and decaying fish — we in London had to drink. It is true that such are the forces of nature that even mineral poison and stinking fish does not kill us always — in moderate doses. Were it not for the vis medicatrix naturce in the matter of water, air, and soil, we should all be dead men some morning, the whole four millions of us together.
This want of abundant pure water is one of the most crying wants of our age. There are two or three modes in which London can be supplied with wholesome water. Whether it is to come out of the chalk, whether it is to be collected out of several of the southern rivers at their head sources, whether it is to come by a vast aqueduct from Bala Lake, the West Midland hills, or from Ullswater, we need not discuss. But it has to come — pure, abundant, constant. Ultimately, I believe, there will be a main aqueduct down England from the lakes of Westmoreland, sending off branch mains to the greater Northern and Midland towns, and pouring into London a river like the Eamont at Penrith —an inexhaustible source of pure water, just as the Claudian or the Julian Aqueducts poured their rivers into Rome — Rome, the immortal type of all that a great city ought to have in the way of water supply.
Let us away with all the nastiness and stupidities of cis-terns, with their dirt, poison, discomfort, and cost; away with the ball-cock, and the bursting pipes, and all the abominations of bungling plumbers. A continuous water supply is a necessity of civilisation. But free water is as much a necessity of civilisation as pure water, or continuous water.
0 notes
Photo
The Health of Nations
We may take in turn a few of the ways in which the lives of these 30,000 victims a year may be saved; and, with their lives, the infinite sorrow, suffering, and loss which these 30,000 deaths involve. There is a book with a most happy title, the instructive record of a most useful life — I mean The Health of Nations, by the well-known reformer Sir B. Richardson. In that book Dr. Richardson has collected the writings, described the schemes, and explained the work of his friend, Edwin Chadwick, the Nestor of sanitary reform, the Jeremy Bentham of the Victorian epoch, the pioneer and venerable chief of all health reformers.
Edwin Chadwick, himself the philosophical executor and residuary legatee of old Jeremy Bentham as a social and practical reformer, in extreme and hale old age — he was born in the last century, in 1800 — was still in 1887 hearty and energetic in the cause to which he has devoted sixty years of his life—the great cause of the Health of Nations. The Health of Nations is quite as important as the Wealth of Nations. If the Health of Nations does not need the philosophical genius of Adam Smith, or the analytic genius of Jeremy Bentham, it needs a spirit of social devotedness quite as serious, and a practical energy in the apostle quite as great. As Burke told us that John Howard had devoted himself to a ‘ circumnavigation of charity private guide turkey,’ so Edwin Chadwick sixty years ago began a ‘ circumnavigation of sanitation,’ and after all his voyages he has at length finally put into port.
Of all problems
Of all problems, the most important is—water. We are drinking water that at times is contaminated with sewage, as well as with foul surface drainage, and that to a degree which under possible conditions may become deadly. I saw not long ago one of the large affluents of the Upper Thames poisoned by mineral refuse to a degree which suddenly killed the whole of the fish. This garbage — mineral poison, refuse, and decaying fish — we in London had to drink. It is true that such are the forces of nature that even mineral poison and stinking fish does not kill us always — in moderate doses. Were it not for the vis medicatrix naturce in the matter of water, air, and soil, we should all be dead men some morning, the whole four millions of us together.
This want of abundant pure water is one of the most crying wants of our age. There are two or three modes in which London can be supplied with wholesome water. Whether it is to come out of the chalk, whether it is to be collected out of several of the southern rivers at their head sources, whether it is to come by a vast aqueduct from Bala Lake, the West Midland hills, or from Ullswater, we need not discuss. But it has to come — pure, abundant, constant. Ultimately, I believe, there will be a main aqueduct down England from the lakes of Westmoreland, sending off branch mains to the greater Northern and Midland towns, and pouring into London a river like the Eamont at Penrith —an inexhaustible source of pure water, just as the Claudian or the Julian Aqueducts poured their rivers into Rome — Rome, the immortal type of all that a great city ought to have in the way of water supply.
Let us away with all the nastiness and stupidities of cis-terns, with their dirt, poison, discomfort, and cost; away with the ball-cock, and the bursting pipes, and all the abominations of bungling plumbers. A continuous water supply is a necessity of civilisation. But free water is as much a necessity of civilisation as pure water, or continuous water.
0 notes
Photo
The Health of Nations
We may take in turn a few of the ways in which the lives of these 30,000 victims a year may be saved; and, with their lives, the infinite sorrow, suffering, and loss which these 30,000 deaths involve. There is a book with a most happy title, the instructive record of a most useful life — I mean The Health of Nations, by the well-known reformer Sir B. Richardson. In that book Dr. Richardson has collected the writings, described the schemes, and explained the work of his friend, Edwin Chadwick, the Nestor of sanitary reform, the Jeremy Bentham of the Victorian epoch, the pioneer and venerable chief of all health reformers.
Edwin Chadwick, himself the philosophical executor and residuary legatee of old Jeremy Bentham as a social and practical reformer, in extreme and hale old age — he was born in the last century, in 1800 — was still in 1887 hearty and energetic in the cause to which he has devoted sixty years of his life—the great cause of the Health of Nations. The Health of Nations is quite as important as the Wealth of Nations. If the Health of Nations does not need the philosophical genius of Adam Smith, or the analytic genius of Jeremy Bentham, it needs a spirit of social devotedness quite as serious, and a practical energy in the apostle quite as great. As Burke told us that John Howard had devoted himself to a ‘ circumnavigation of charity private guide turkey,’ so Edwin Chadwick sixty years ago began a ‘ circumnavigation of sanitation,’ and after all his voyages he has at length finally put into port.
Of all problems
Of all problems, the most important is—water. We are drinking water that at times is contaminated with sewage, as well as with foul surface drainage, and that to a degree which under possible conditions may become deadly. I saw not long ago one of the large affluents of the Upper Thames poisoned by mineral refuse to a degree which suddenly killed the whole of the fish. This garbage — mineral poison, refuse, and decaying fish — we in London had to drink. It is true that such are the forces of nature that even mineral poison and stinking fish does not kill us always — in moderate doses. Were it not for the vis medicatrix naturce in the matter of water, air, and soil, we should all be dead men some morning, the whole four millions of us together.
This want of abundant pure water is one of the most crying wants of our age. There are two or three modes in which London can be supplied with wholesome water. Whether it is to come out of the chalk, whether it is to be collected out of several of the southern rivers at their head sources, whether it is to come by a vast aqueduct from Bala Lake, the West Midland hills, or from Ullswater, we need not discuss. But it has to come — pure, abundant, constant. Ultimately, I believe, there will be a main aqueduct down England from the lakes of Westmoreland, sending off branch mains to the greater Northern and Midland towns, and pouring into London a river like the Eamont at Penrith —an inexhaustible source of pure water, just as the Claudian or the Julian Aqueducts poured their rivers into Rome — Rome, the immortal type of all that a great city ought to have in the way of water supply.
Let us away with all the nastiness and stupidities of cis-terns, with their dirt, poison, discomfort, and cost; away with the ball-cock, and the bursting pipes, and all the abominations of bungling plumbers. A continuous water supply is a necessity of civilisation. But free water is as much a necessity of civilisation as pure water, or continuous water.
0 notes
Photo
The Health of Nations
We may take in turn a few of the ways in which the lives of these 30,000 victims a year may be saved; and, with their lives, the infinite sorrow, suffering, and loss which these 30,000 deaths involve. There is a book with a most happy title, the instructive record of a most useful life — I mean The Health of Nations, by the well-known reformer Sir B. Richardson. In that book Dr. Richardson has collected the writings, described the schemes, and explained the work of his friend, Edwin Chadwick, the Nestor of sanitary reform, the Jeremy Bentham of the Victorian epoch, the pioneer and venerable chief of all health reformers.
Edwin Chadwick, himself the philosophical executor and residuary legatee of old Jeremy Bentham as a social and practical reformer, in extreme and hale old age — he was born in the last century, in 1800 — was still in 1887 hearty and energetic in the cause to which he has devoted sixty years of his life—the great cause of the Health of Nations. The Health of Nations is quite as important as the Wealth of Nations. If the Health of Nations does not need the philosophical genius of Adam Smith, or the analytic genius of Jeremy Bentham, it needs a spirit of social devotedness quite as serious, and a practical energy in the apostle quite as great. As Burke told us that John Howard had devoted himself to a ‘ circumnavigation of charity private guide turkey,’ so Edwin Chadwick sixty years ago began a ‘ circumnavigation of sanitation,’ and after all his voyages he has at length finally put into port.
Of all problems
Of all problems, the most important is—water. We are drinking water that at times is contaminated with sewage, as well as with foul surface drainage, and that to a degree which under possible conditions may become deadly. I saw not long ago one of the large affluents of the Upper Thames poisoned by mineral refuse to a degree which suddenly killed the whole of the fish. This garbage — mineral poison, refuse, and decaying fish — we in London had to drink. It is true that such are the forces of nature that even mineral poison and stinking fish does not kill us always — in moderate doses. Were it not for the vis medicatrix naturce in the matter of water, air, and soil, we should all be dead men some morning, the whole four millions of us together.
This want of abundant pure water is one of the most crying wants of our age. There are two or three modes in which London can be supplied with wholesome water. Whether it is to come out of the chalk, whether it is to be collected out of several of the southern rivers at their head sources, whether it is to come by a vast aqueduct from Bala Lake, the West Midland hills, or from Ullswater, we need not discuss. But it has to come — pure, abundant, constant. Ultimately, I believe, there will be a main aqueduct down England from the lakes of Westmoreland, sending off branch mains to the greater Northern and Midland towns, and pouring into London a river like the Eamont at Penrith —an inexhaustible source of pure water, just as the Claudian or the Julian Aqueducts poured their rivers into Rome — Rome, the immortal type of all that a great city ought to have in the way of water supply.
Let us away with all the nastiness and stupidities of cis-terns, with their dirt, poison, discomfort, and cost; away with the ball-cock, and the bursting pipes, and all the abominations of bungling plumbers. A continuous water supply is a necessity of civilisation. But free water is as much a necessity of civilisation as pure water, or continuous water.
0 notes
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