The ground is soft and I'm ready to dig

I still haven't watched the rest of E13 because the cold open took over my entire brain. Based on that cold open and everything else we've seen, I have some thoughts to share about Bolaire's morality (with thanks to @onlyteoristeor for being super smart and helping me develop them.)

I've seen a lot of people talk about Bolaire being amoral. I don't think that's true. It's just that it's blue and orange morality that has little to do with typical human(oid) standards.

Truth

I believe that Bolaire's first moral principle he ever had was about the importance of truth. This makes a lot of sense, since he is the downfall of a goddess of trickery. He is not dedicated to a god, but to the antithesis of that god. Crucially, though, for him the truth does not have to be literal cut-and-dried facts. We saw in the cold open that Bolaire was enchanted when Eunice told him about how the lies of the theater can reveal more profound truths about the world.

We have a bunch of evidence that the truth is still a core principle to Bolaire in the present day. He often manages to avoid lying by either saying nothing or by saying something that is technically true. (A hilarious example from E2: when he told Thaisha "I touched the wrong thing and I got this thing stuck to me!" Technically true, if the "thing" he got stuck to was his human body.) In E11 he described the Cormorays' desire to take over the Archanade and present history in a way that was favorable to their interests as "violent." That makes sense in his morality; to him, doing damage to the truth might seem more violent than actual violence against people. He also agonized in E4 over how much he'd wanted to tell Hal the truth about himself and how much it hurt him to have to lie. I would argue that in Bolaire's moral system, Thjazi forcing him to lie was a kind of profound moral injury.

(I also reiterate what I've been saying for months: Taliesin rolled a natural 20 on persuasion in E4, not deception.)

Freedom

Another principle that Bolaire clearly held even before the E13 cold open was about freedom. He says in the cold open, "I'm fighting for freedom. That's what I do." He booed along, if shyly, with the crowd when the MC of the play denounced the tyranny of the Shapers. He clearly values his own freedom to a very high degree, willing to kill and even lie for it. In the present day, he fights the authority of the Sundered Houses. Of course, the irony is that his own freedom must necessarily come at the expense of the freedom of his stolen bodies.

Fairy tale morality

I believe that Bolaire pieced together more of his morality based on the play he saw in the E13 cold open. It's important to contextualize that Bolaire would have witnessed very little in the way of moral aspirations up until that point. He was used as a weapon of war for decades. When would he ever have seen or heard anyone expressing an ideal of goodness or nobility or anything like that? In the play, he saw a noble knight bring down a god through the power of love, which was making some aspirational statements about what is morally right.

That play, though, had the structure and logic of a fairy tale. The knight lured wicked men into playing the dice game for him, thus taking misfortune onto themselves, in the way that animals in fables get each other into trouble. The play presents the knight as noble for doing this! There is a parallel between the way the knight got the wicked men to play with the cursed dice, and the way that Bolaire got Aubrus Drime to put him on in the E4 cold open. The wicked men chose to play the game, thus sealing their own fate; Aubrus Drime chose to attack Bolaire and "steal his mask", thus sealing his own fate. There is a kind of fairy tale justice to what Bolaire did to Drime.

The play also has the fairy tale logic of exchange and honoring agreements. In the final task, when the knight owes Rauwyn his honor, she makes a change to the agreement and asks that he pay her a kiss instead. Bolaire immediately took that on in his worldview. His existing agreement with the soldier who wore him was that he would temporarily offer his body to Bolaire and in exchange Bolaire would temporarily fight for his cause. Bolaire apologized and said the terms of the agreement were changing; he'd be taking the soldier's body permanently. But he didn't just run off with his body, which he easily could have done! He gave something in exchange. Since the soldier was permanently surrendering his freedom, in exchange Bolaire would fight for the cause until the war was through. It does follow the same logic as the play, where you can change the terms of an agreement as long as you exchange favors of equivalent value.

And yes, it was an illusion. It was a boogeyman image pulled up to cause fear, to cover up the scared and unready man beneath and give himself an advantage over an enemy he was facing all alone, the first time he’s taken up a blade by himself without someone actively beside him. He called up Azgra because of the theme of the gala and because Azgra is the boogeyman, not just to the orcs but to everyone. The god of war who used his children as a blade against the rest of the world.

But there’s something … Azgra was the god of war. He made his children as weapons. And when Hal needed to be a weapon, when he needed to fight, he called up his god’s face. Instinctively.

Because Hal is an orc. And Azgra was the Shaper of the orcs, and in so many ways he’s still the Shaper of the orcs. Because … Because no one ever quite escapes the legacy of how they were made, how they were raised, how they were shaped. Choices can be made. Always. New paths can be walked. A new world can be made. But maybe … maybe there’s always the memory of fingerprints in the clay.

And I’m just … I’m remembering that scene we saw in Episode 21. The flashback, a young Hal and Thaisha at the Lloy’s. The retelling of the first Farramh, the celebration born from Azgra’s death at his children’s hands, and the thanksgiving that they were immediately dared, forced, asked to give to the god they had just destroyed.

“He that seeks to destroy you is your teacher, and so we bless the Conqueror for his lessons, which were many.

We bless the Conqueror for his craft, for he shaped us not as children, but as weapons, and a weapon knows no doubt or hesitation.

We bless the Conqueror for his hunger, for in his appetite, he saw Aramán forever changed from what it was to what it might be.

A blessing to him, then, that the Rungjani reject peace in favour of a dream.

And we bless him above all else for his honesty, because of all the gods of Aramán, ours was the only one who never lied about what he truly was.

For his honesty, we bless him most of all.”

We bless him for his lessons. We bless him for his craft. For making weapons of us, so that we could fight even the gods themselves in the end. And we bless him for his honesty, for never lying about what he was.

Hal grew up with that. That story. That memory, told and retold. That lesson.

Azgra was a horror. Azgra was a terror. Azgra kept them in slavery. But he never lied about it. He shaped them in his image. He taught them how to fight. He taught them how to fight gods themselves if it came to it. He taught them how to subsume fear, how to face it, how to fight even when hope was dead and victory was impossible. He taught them everything they needed to kill him. Not intentionally, probably not intentionally, but the lesson was taught regardless, and they were perhaps somewhat cruelly grateful for it.

And when Hal had to fight. All alone, in the midst of this cavalcade of lies and deception and assassination, while his friends fought and possibly died somewhere close by, out of his reach. When Hal had to fight.

He wore the face of Azgra. Who did not lie, and who made weapons without fear.

And … And the funny thing is, Hal wore that face as a lie. An illusion of bravery, monstrosity, terror. The face of dead god to frighten a foreigner who brought terror and death into the heart of Dol Makjar, into the heart of Kahad, into Hal’s home. It was an instinctive reaction, just to pull up the face of a boogeyman. It was a lie.

But every truth starts with a lie. Into every mask we wear, we have to put at least a touch of our real face. Fingerprints in the clay.

There is something so tangled, and heavy, and complicated, and stained about the relationship between Azgra and his children, his people, his killers. He shaped them. He enslaved them. They hated him. They killed him. But when challenged on the spot, with his blood not yet cooled, they gave thanks to him, as honestly as they could, for the things he had, intentionally or not, given them, showed them, taught them. They thanked him for his honesty.

And seventy years down the line, in the midst horror and death and so many lies, an orc who loves stories, who loves the truths hidden in lies, who had put aside his blade and was forced to take it up again … chose Azgra’s face to show his enemies. Instinctively.

He who seeks to destroy you is your teacher. And so we bless the Conqueror for his lessons.

How hard it is, to be something other than what you were made to be.

But at the end of the day … Azgra’s face comes off. And Hal, the playwright, the wordsmith, the dreamer, all these things an orc under Azgra would never have been allowed to be, remains underneath.

We take the lessons we are taught. But we are always more than them. Or at the least, we always have the potential to be.

Sorry. That was just … such a weighted image. So off-the-cuff, and so heavy.

The orcs were shaped by the god of war. And while that is not all they are, they have fought and died and killed to prove it is not all they are … it is still part of what they are. They’ve moved past him, beyond him. They’ve killed him with their own hands, and with the lessons he himself taught them. There can be peace now, and art, and gentle things. But if war comes? If an orc still has to fight? Then Azgra’s face is still one they can choose to wear. Both as a lie, and as a truth.

Let’s play the biggest game of kick the can on the internet.

The goal of this account is to spread seizure awareness, education, ableism/discrimination of them.

Halandil Fang: I’ve come to you with hat in hand. Do you want to invest in the city’s future?

Elodie D'vyen: … Well normally I need to see a business plan before I make an investment. *sighs* When we first got together, my grandmother, when she was still with us, um, made me make one promise. The promise that she asked me to make, she said, ‘Elodie, you come from means’, and, ah, though I did not follow in the family business, I had to make my own merchant’s company myself, she said: ‘If you’re going to couple with an actor, you have to think now about what you’re gonna say’. And I said, grandma, what do you mean? And she said, ‘you need to think about what you’re going to say when he asks you for money’. How much are we talking about, Hal?

Hal, with a rather wobbly smile: Not too much. A few hundred gold.

Elodie, startled: Oh! Oh, a few hundred gold? Oh, my god, yes.

Like, it’s so clear that she was braced for a much higher number. A few hundred thousand, maybe. Seed money for a commercial venture. She’s so clearly stunned by the low ball. And it’s funny. It is funny. But it’s also so fucking sad.

In the first place, because of the sheer disparity of expectations here. Hal is just trying to get enough to scrape together a food bank, enough money to feed (admittedly a couple hundred) people just long enough for other options to open up, so they won’t be dependent on the city’s cult leader for jobs after a mass firing happened in the wake of political shenanigans. The Schemers were there calculating, okay, 1 gold per person per day, just for a couple of weeks, just until we can get options lined up. Just so these people don’t have to immediately join a cult to feed their families. They’re there trying to work out how many jewels from their thieves’ stash they can sell to keep people afloat for even a week or two. A few hundred gold. We’ve just got to give them one or two weeks without starving.

And then here’s Elodie, who isn’t even nobility, just one of the better classes of merchant, and she’s clearly … Like. She was clearly expecting at least a few thousand here. Possibly because he’d framed it as an investment? Investing in the city’s future. Her reaction when it’s only a few hundred is so …

You can tell which of them is used to having a few hundred to throw around when needed, shall we say.

And then, on the more personal level …

You need to think now about what you’re going to say when he asks for money. How much are we talking about, Hal?

And the thing is, we’ve seen this before, shadows of this. Hal and Thaisha. Her reminding him, carefully, around what were clearly old wounds and old discussions, that while she knew he didn’t like it, the Lloy money was there for him if he ever needed it. And Hal … not saying much of anything in response.

There’s so clearly an expectation. A view of Hal in operation. ‘If you’re going to couple with an actor’. Hal is an entertainer, a kid from the Rookery, a troublemaker’s brother. And he has children with not one but two entirely separate ladies of much higher class and means than him. And Thaisha was first. So by the time he got to Elodie, there was clearly enough of an opinion of him circulating that Elodie’s grandmother took her aside to warn her. He’s a gold digger, honey. You’ve got to start thinking now about how much you’re willing to give him.

(Also, if you’re going to couple with an actor? Not be with him, not have a relationship with him. Just couple. As if sex is all there is to it. Ouch).

There’s a view of Hal happening here. And Hal is clearly conscious of it. He’s not surprised at Elodie saying what her grandmother told her. He just looks … wryly sad. All rueful acknowledgement and lopsided smile. That line of his that finishes the conversation:

“You are always too good for me. Your grandmother was a wise woman.”

… How much does it hurt, that so soon after it was all going well for him, after he’d finally gotten the deed to the Hallowed Round, after he’d finally managed to start making a more respectable name for himself, that everything came crashing down? His brother dead. The city abruptly under siege from seemingly every direction. His every dream under threat. And now …

Here he has to be. Hat in hand. Playing the damned gold digger, just like everyone’s always expected of him, and not even for himself. Just to try and keep the city afloat.

He doesn’t want to. We know he doesn’t want to. Thaisha wouldn’t have stepped half so carefully around that conversation unless she knew it hurt him. This wouldn’t clearly be the first time he’s ever asked Elodie for money, the first time she’s ever had to mention what her grandmother said, if he was at all easy about it. It clearly is a sore spot for him, if only one you have to be as close as Thaisha to notice, maybe. And it’s a sore spot that makes sense. There’s so clearly a view of him that’s developed, and not on purpose, not by anyone’s intention, it’s not Thaisha or Elodie’s fault that they were born to money, no more than it’s Hal’s fault that he wasn’t, but there is …

An actor. An entertainer. A lover. And both his baby mamas are women of means.

Yeah. There’s a reputation there, I think. And I don’t think Hal likes it. At all.

(A reputation probably not helped by whatever the hell happened with Thjazi and Aranessa’s marriage, too. Those Fang boys, huh. A whole family of gold diggers over there. Hold tight to your money, ladies, the Fang brothers are in town).

There is such a theme with the Schemers. The working nine-to-five. The ones born in poverty or struggle, the ones who know how to fight to make ends meet.

Stephanie: We have bad news Tim. You should sit down.

Tim: Oh shit did someone actually die?? Who was it this time?

Dick: Remember that civilian that we catch trailing after us every so often? The one who was involved in the Penguin incident awhile ago?

Tim: Oh. Clarissa O’Neal? What about her?

Damian: She was taken hostage by one of Black Masks henchmen. We didn’t make it in time to save her.

Tim: ? And that’s why you guys are so upset? C’mon guys lighten up, it’s movie night

Jason, getting visibly pissed: What the Fuck dude. A civilian we were close to fucking died because we didn’t make it in time

Dick: I know you didn’t like her much but show a bit of empathy Timmy. You usually take these situations seriously

Tim: I’ve been trying to kill her off for ages. Why would I be upset??

Steph: Tim you have 10 seconds to fix your attitude before i fix it for you

Jason: Since when do you take people’s lives so lightly? Dude you need to leave before I do something i regret.

Tim: I didn’t know you guys were so attached to her. I could revive her if you want, but honestly it’s more effort than it’s worth. And she was getting unwanted attention from the rogues so she had to go.

Damian: Revive?? Timothy what are you on about? And why are you saying that like you personally set up her demise?

Tim: Because I did? The planning for it took forever but I have to admit everything went a lot better than I was expecting.

Dick: TIM WHAT—

Jason: WHAT THE HELL—

Damian: MURDER? You?!

Steph, screaming over everyone else: WAIT SHUT UP

Steph: TIM NO YOU DID NOT

Steph: TIM DON’T TELL ME YOU DID IT AGAIN

Dick: Again?!? What are you talking about?!

Steph, laughing: Guys calm down. HE was Clarissa

Tim: You guys didn’t know??

Jason: HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT THE HISPANIC LOOKING WOMEN IN HER MID TWENTIES AND A CRIME ALLEY ACCENT WAS YOU

Dick: Tim i am THIS CLOSE to burning down your disguise room.

Damian: Timothy explain yourself

Tim: I had an undercover op that I needed a female field agent for a couple years ago to infiltrate penguins operations. Over time She became a bit too important and Black mask was threatening her. So I decided to kill her off. I got the info I needed already and it was becoming a bit of a drag keeping up appearances

Steph: You need to stop getting us emotionally invested in your aliases and then killing them off. This is the fourth time you did this to me. I’ll never forgive you for Alvin Draper, I still grieve him even though i know you’re alive!

Tim: YOU guys need to start recognizing me in disguise. Worlds greatest detectives MY ASS

Jason: DUDE YOU GAVE YOURSELF DOUBLE D’s WHY WOULD WE ASSUME THAT WAS YOU

Damian: My training in this area has been neglected. Timothy show me your disguise lair

Tim: Sure, after movie night. Let’s go

Dick: This is gonna bite us in the ass. Damian is already so good at impressions. We will never know if someone we are talking to is him or not

Tim: LMAO When i’m done with him? Yea everyone’s fucked

Steph: It’s gonna give Roger from American dad

Bruce from the corner: *Breathes a sigh of relief*

Need some motiv-ocean to leap into the weekend? You got this!

Leaping blennies are amazing amphibious fish. They can launch themselves off rocks and into the air sometimes up to 50 times their body length. Not only do they flash their red dorsal fins to communicate, but they can also live on land temporarily in tidepools and rocky coasts. 

Except... tooth fairies (a type of fae, not a singular entity) do exist in Aramán, and they do collect teeth and leave various small valuables in return. It's just that they're as limited in speed of travel as any other beings (especially since the Shapers War and difficulties with magical travel), so you're only likely to be visited by one if you lose your tooth close to where tooth fairies live. Those areas were scarce enough before the gates to Faerie closed, and now the few remaining pockets shrink ever further away from the dangers of close contact with the other species of Aramán.

...With the notable exception of the Golden Orchard.

Which will set up the Seekers for a very unexpected conversation someday when one of them gets a tooth knocked out in a fight, and they find that Sir Julien Davinos is determined to find the stray tooth once the fight is over because how else are you going to trade it to the tooth fairy? Of course it has to be traded to a tooth fairy. That is what one does with lost teeth. It does no one any good to just leave them to rot in the dirt. (He did formally waive collection for one of his when he was thirteen and tipped the fairy a silver in recompense for the trouble, but that was to keep it for a specific purpose, not just wasting it.)

Things to consider when Writing about Heists!!

⊹ What are they actually stealing and WHY. money is boring unless there's a specific reason they need that exact amount. magical artifact? information? person? the declaration of independence? make it interesting and personal

⊹ Who planned this thing. because the planner is usually not the leader and that creates tension. is the plan genius or are they just winging it and pretending they know what they're doing

⊹ What's everyone's role. you need: the mastermind, the muscle, the hacker/magic user, the conman, the thief, the driver/getaway person, the inside person, the wildcard who's chaos incarnate. everyone has a job and also a reason they can't just be replaced

⊹ How did this crew even form. old friends? recruited specifically for this job? forced together by circumstances? some of them hate each other but need each other's skills?

⊹ What's the target. museum? casino? palace? dragon's hoard? corporation? secure facility that's supposed to be impossible to break into (it's not but it's close)

⊹ What's the security like. guards, cameras, magic wards, traps, locks that require specific keys, biometrics, creatures guarding it, all of the above. make it seem genuinely difficult

⊹ What's the timeline. do they have weeks to prepare or is this a "we have 48 hours" situation. rushed heists are messier and more fun

⊹ What's everyone's motivation. money obviously but also: revenge, saving someone, clearing their name, thrill seeking, blackmail, ideological reasons, debt. mixed motivations create the best conflict

⊹ Is there a traitor. there's usually a traitor. or at least someone with a secret agenda that contradicts the group's goals. trust issues everywhere

⊹ What's the escape plan. because getting in is only half of it. how do they get out without getting caught or killed. what if the escape plan fails (it will)

⊹ What can go wrong. everything. something WILL go wrong. alarm gets tripped early, guard that wasn't supposed to be there, someone gets injured, the thing they're stealing isn't where it should be, betrayal. plan B time

⊹ What are the consequences if they fail. prison? death? worse? are there people threatening their families? debts they can't pay? this raises the stakes

⊹ How much prep/planning do you show. the planning montage is iconic but don't make it boring. show the research, the practice runs, the moments they realize how screwed they might be

⊹ Is this crew's first job together or have they done this before. experienced crews have history and inside jokes and old grudges. new crews don't trust each other yet

⊹ What's the moral line. are they robin hood types stealing from the evil rich? morally gray criminals? fully selfish? do they have rules about collateral damage?

I've wanted to do something with this general shape for awhile, and finally figured out how I wanted to approach it - intertwined rainbow gradients. Blackwork embroidery on 14-count Aida cloth.

Getting a drink of water is one of those things I’d like to say I could do in my sleep, but ironically that was not the case tonight. The water bottle on the bedside table was usually trustworthy. Sometimes you just fumble the basics, though, and this time I fumbled it right onto the bed. Soaked the blanket and my favorite pajamas too. 

I grumbled and complained about it, hurrying to grab the bottle and pull the blanket off before it seeped further. The sheets were dry, thankfully. I piled everything wet on the floor, turned on my dim reading lamp, and got new pajamas. 

I complained thoroughly and creatively, but Telly wasn’t there to flick an ear about it. She didn’t even peek her head in through the little door in the cat ramp near the ceiling, so she must have been elsewhere on the ship. Probably just as well. I would have felt bad if I’d spilled water on her too. 

Though, to be fair, she was the reason my spare blanket was waiting to be washed instead of ready to throw on the bed and go back to sleep. The dang thing stank of seafood, because my darling feline had apparently managed to steal more of Blip and Blop’s favorite shrimp sticks and eat them on the bed.

Great, choice, cat, I thought as I gathered up both blankets and my wet clothes. Spectacular choices all around. I should probably talk to the twins about where they were keeping those, since she had been really chowing down in the last couple days.

I’d ask in the morning, though. For now, I grabbed the empty water bottle and bundled my armload of cloth out into the quiet spaceship hallway, padding along on bare feet while reflecting that it was good the cleaning station was quiet. I didn’t want to wake anybody up. 

This is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done! Putting myself out there and asking for things is HARD, and I genuinely don’t know if there’s enough interest in this for it to be viable.

BUT shy bairns get nowt and all that, and if there is enough support and this does work out, then it’s a chance to do something really exciting. Very few people have had a properly fitted suit of historical plate to test with, and even fewer of them have an audience of this size to share their findings with. And while I may not be the best person for the job, I’m the only person that I am.

SO, if you want to see how far I can push movement in plate armour, or how many fantasy tropes I can recreate; if you want to see the process of making and fitting a full suit, and learn more about historical craftsmanship; OR if you want to watch a goofy goober pole dancing and attempting gymnastics in a clanky tin suit, with lots of failure along the way, please support this project.

There’s no way I can do it on my own, but if enough people chip in, there’s a chance!

The provisional cast on lets you cast on stitches that you can undo later to reveal live stitches:

🧶 Using a crochet hook and scrap yarn, make a couple of chains and then start casting stitches on the knitting needle as shown. Make an extra chain or two at the end.

🧶 Start #knitting with your proper yarn

🧶 Undo the cast on and transfer the stitches onto a knitting needle