I am not dead I swear! I was just recovering from finishing THIS MONSTER of a pmv. Go on, click the link!
I always wanted to do a PMV and I finally did it!
So whats this about? It’s about my esk Fenn, the green one, having regrets. They have remembered what they were before becoming an esk, how they used to soar through the skies and how that has been taken away from them. Fenn did nor realize what a transformation entailed, and thus did not know they would lose their wings upon becoming an esk. Not that they would ever blame Rune, their creator for this but Rune never really explained what becoming an esk meant. There is, however, one esk that’s picking up on Fenn’s feelings, and that is little Mischief. So Fenn tells her his story, of what they once where now they remember.
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💎 “How does your Esk feel about the morality of transformations? will they never do transformations ever, will they only do it if there’s consent, or are they alright with transformations done liberally whether or not the recipient wants it?"
I was transformed without ever being asked....the form of my body ripped and turned into something else that was not me. It was painful, horrible, heartbreaking. I had hoped, a foolish, reaching hope, that when the last breath left my body, I would be reunited with my wife, wherever she may be. That choice was taken from me.
I have transformed before, gifted when asked. My lantern calls to those who seek it, the light as a beacon to what could be. There is one that I have transformed - a curious little thing - who sees my lantern as the moon.
There is no cause to take others from what they wish, even if it feels like you must save them. You can only save those who wish it.
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How did your Esk learn to access the conservatory?
Was it something they instinctively knew once they were transformed? Did they perhaps stumble into it by mistake at first? Did they need another Esk to teach them? Or perhaps they still don’t know how to or have no clue it exists?
This is not home...but it feels like it. What a strange place to stumble upon...
The first time Ahkŭ leaves her familiar mountain home, it is by accident. Even though the day is sunny, crisp, and dotted with lamb-like clouds, she feels restless. The days, like the clouds above her, seem to crawl lifelessly by, slowly trekking across the landscape to destinations unknown, only to dissipate and fade away.
Ahkŭ, maybe for the first time since becoming, is totally, utterly, unequivocally bored with being. She’s traversed every hillside, explored every rock pile, has run across the entire mountain range more times than she can count, and hasn’t seen a single human in weeks. Ahkŭ can’t even seem to recall how long it had been since the heard of elk had passed through to lap at the snow-melt lake. It had been more than a few days, probably more than a few months. In this new life of hers, cycles are all that she’s privy to. She witnesses the endless toil of growth to life to death, and outlasts.
Ahkŭ knows this new life should be cherished, but today she simply allowed herself to crave the cool embrace of the earth. At the mention of the ground in her thoughts, she digs her paws into the field where her pacing has paused. She looks down the mountain. She feels the tether in her chest fester and curdle her soul. If only she could take a knife and carve out the rotten root; anything to be done with it all.
On the first day of her new life, Ahkŭ traveled down, down, down and away from the peaks that pierce the sky. She was scared. She wanted to go home. With every step, she became sicker—she had only felt that way once. The memories were almost too dense to parse. She remembered being surrounded in a cacophony of concerned whispers, feeling suspended, swimming in her own head, sweat sticking to her dark hair. She saw a white field of mist, and knew she had to return there—but the warm hand of her grandmother fell heavy on her back, holding her in place. She smoothed soothing circles into her spine, dragging her away as the cold mist dissipated and her sickness faded. The tether called out to Ahkŭ in her grandma’s voice. Come back, it whispered. Come back, it cooed. Come back, it yelled. Ahkŭ could not ignore it. She resigned herself to returning to the tree-bare seas of grass and rocks. The winds carried her upwards, folding her back into the swaddle of the tundra. It had felt like a homecoming; her whole soul sighed with relief.
Now, she wanted to scream.
She was stronger now. She could and would make it out.
But where could she go?
Try again for home? …Where were they now? Even if she were to return…who would know her?
Ahkŭ tries to imagine somewhere new.
Somewhere refreshing, with rushing water and rustling leaves, where the sun doesn’t pound down and the wind doesn’t snap across her back.
The world blurs with her concentration; her eyes must be welling with tears. Ahkŭ’s vision swirls and blurs, before sharpening suddenly to a small dot of dark light. Squinting, Ahkŭ stumbles towards the strange sight, nearly tripping over her own feet as she runs in place. She feels herself moving through the air, beyond the air, into…somewhere new.
Hurdling herself through this transition-space-tunnel-river, Ahkŭ feels terrified, but the most alive she’s been since the Transformation. Maybe she’s not ready to throw away this gift quite yet.
She bleeds into the landscape, arriving in a field of stark white mist.
Ahkŭ raises her head, eyes glassy as she comes face to face with a large, elderly ghost. One like her.
Welcome, young one.
Ahkŭ’s wing of the Conservatory. I like to imagine the Conservatory as an extremely liminal space; I think it’s fun to explore as a funky headspace, a place between places. As she gets more familiar with it, Ahkŭ retreats there when she really can’t stand being in the world for a spell. She also will happily visit to see 000! :)c
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“Who is closest to your Esk? and some bonus questions: how did they meet, what is their relationship like? would your Esk go out of their way to do a favor for them, protect them, or go on a journey?”
Aha points a dark nose upward into the canopy of a western juniper where pinyon jays jump to and fro. They laugh together with stomachs full of nuts and berries.
Beyond the juniper is a sea of antelope bitterbrush and big sagebrush with large outcroppings of black basalt. Somewhere in its cool labyrinth of crevices, pica gather a bounty of fresh plants to eat.
They look down, and at their feet is a pile of woodshavings from the busy carpenter ants' tireless work where sisters take care of sisters and mothers.
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"It was booooring. The humans were fun, but there weren't as many of them once they started saying things like "dangerous" and "haunted".
So I left. I can go anywhere I want, do anything I please. Why would I stay near some dingy little woodland path for years waiting for Ikkit to find me when there's so many people to play with elsewhere.
