#folcintera

In the earlier days of alterhuman community experience, I called my otherkinity spirituality based, but not because of a past life (though somewhat debatable due to my also draconic kardiatype). I say I am “a dragon soul”. I say that I was meant to be born a dragon, but also was tethered to this human body. I'm not living a parallel life, nor am I necessarily an astral entity that is operating this body. Although I do prefer to call this body of mine a vessel sometimes. I also like the sound of metaphysical as an explanation of my own draconity. I had utilized "concurrent life" as an explanation before, not realizing at the time that it's more meant as a synonym to parallel life. I had meant for it to be as something "current", to quote arethinn

"I haven't had any past lives as an elf, I just AM an elf soul in a human body" - arethinn on tumblr

Words have always been hard for me, to have the words to describe myself, my feelings? Abstract and nebulous, ephemeral, ethereal. All the wonderfully vague words to tell just what sort of dragon I am, and how I experience this existence. I am not physical, in the sense that my draconic body doesn't function like an animal, that I'm more akin (ha!) to a spirit, or perhaps I am a spirit. Incorporeal. cryptidanathema posted on Alterhuman Community a while ago, discussing the categorization of Pokemon. In essence, Pokemon, which is just Pocket Monster shortened, are a class that should be defined as "RPG monster" (it's even in the name!). Or more my favorite as quoted from xeyblades’ comment

"similar in substance to youkai or other japanese folkloric beings and even kami. some manner of magical entity that is not quite "real" but also very real" - xeyblades on Alterhuman Community

While I would say I have mostly figured out the property of my physiology, as a manner of speaking, this community post helped solidify my language even more.

Monster.

A word with complicated connotations. Some negative, some neutral. I'm going to skip over the negative connotations as it is not why I have that word as one of my self descriptor. I am something to be categorized as a RPG monster, I am something that is spiritual, folkloric, mythical. Like a youkai or a kami. I have Mew as a archetrope because the whole framework of what Mew is defines something of what I am. I have Flammie as a vague-flicker. I am folcinteric.

I tried archetropy, but I think this label is the way it's heading. So I'm gonna talk about it.

First I talk about myself. I have my own understanding of who I am that mimics the story of Borrowers everywhere. Beyond my current stature, my life seems to follow a Borrower's existence.

I found myself coming to front in the middle of a breakdown, as we hid in a closet, and I felt safe. Behind walls, peeking in at a house we never felt fully safe in. I've always been on the outskirts and underfoot, even going so far as to imagine what would happen if I suddenly was the size I hoped. I'd run and hide. I often felt that I would be safer with a stranger, with a chosen giant, than my own family.

"Be good to them and they won't squish you."

I am a vulnerable creature, sensitive and shy, suffice it to say I adopted this role wholeheartedly. Fawning and caring for everyone so I wasn't hurt. Hiding in the shadows and the corners, borrowing the smallest favours so I wasn't noticed for taking too much. Constantly stifled in a place I was supposed to grow, until now I take up such little space.

I look human, but I'm not on the inside.

As a child we loved fairies, used to write notes to them wishing for wings to fly away. Now I return to the depiction of a typical fairy and I wonder about how I look to them. I've been grounded, living inside a house for so long, crazed and wild as a feral mouse. How they welcome me into lush forests and calm grasses. Tell me that it's okay, that I'm safe now. That I've survived, and I'm still alive.

And then, well, I met my giant. And he reminds me I'm not all typical borrower. He reminds me that, just like Arietty, I haven't developed a distrust for all giants. I don't have the "sense". Like Sho, we met in greenery and I learnt to trust him. Because he is the one who manages to make me feel safe, comfortable, and loved.

I am a tiny, my size is incredibly important to me. It is affirming and lovely and spreads like vines to make me a bug, a borrower, and maybe even a fairy too. It's born from suffering, but now it is my choice to return to a giant's house. Running underfoot becomes a game, a happy and delightful game, as I re-enact my trauma and reconnect to my own heritage. Because as much as the borrower lifestyle is pain, it is who I am. I can no longer pretend I am human, and I embrace the good, and the bad.

Now it comes to folklore, how others see me. Borrowers as a species seem to share a strong resemblance and connection to brownies or broonies, which are household spirits from Scottish folklore. However, there seems a split between the two kinds in general view. Brownies are associated with Fae, goblins, gnomes, etc. while Borrowers are typically viewed as "tiny people" without any specified powers. Joining the ranks of Lilliputians and tinies everywhere. The depictions of both range vastly online and in literature, from insectoid to rodentish, and magical to mundane.

For me, the line between what I am and what I see depicted of my kind is blurred.

To what extent am I mystical? I don't have magic, but when I get really excited I feel wings buzzing behind me as if I was Fae. Scientifically, I can't exist at my size, so there must be something else inside me. I also don't find it alarming that I am a Borrower who is therian identifying, a lot of my nonhuman-ness feels very in line with being a tiny creature forced to survive on the outskirts of society.

To what extent am I human? I have written stories myself, of a giant meeting a borrower and coming to realise they are the same levels of intelligence and sophistication. I sometimes look it, but inside I don't feel it. I've lived inside a human dwelling and adopted their customs but I'm not a human. And I think my fellow literary Borrowers would agree.

So I am left with a bit of a puzzle to fill, but pieces are coming into place slowly. All I know is that I'm a Borrower, whatever that even means, and folcintera as a term seems to acknowledge all the points I mentioned above.

Both bridge between my draconity and my polymorphism, two experiences that are intrinsic to who I am. Otherworldly in ability, versatile in form and with a strange attachment to humankind, it’s hard to point out where the Gold Dragonne begins and the Winged Lion ends. They even share a background of being used as heraldic symbols!

As of lately, I’ve come to use the term “Liondrake” as a way of grouping them together. Truth be told, the only things separating the two would be their sources and how their folklore is portrayed in said sources.

That said, not every detail lines up between them. Under the surface, these fictomeres contrast each other in subtle yet major ways. Although both position themselves as allies to humanity, my presence in Delicious in Dungeon’s folklore displays malevolence. I can’t say that I blame the humans of that world as I’m rather parasitic towards them. Then again, not all folklore is whimsical and full of adventure (rarely so, in fact). It’s no skin off my nose knowing that they feel such a way.

On the flip side, the same cannot be said of my draconic species’s presence in The Forgotten Realms. The allyship of metallic dragonnes is thoroughly documented in Faerûnian lore. Our reputation is comparable to our siblings, the metallic dragons— and yes, the distinction in spelling is just as noteworthy. Yet, dragonnes of my canon are much more familiar faces to Faerûnian society since we tend to stick closer to civilization in contrast to other draconic beings. Many a banner or flag is embellished with the image of us, likely due to our histories of meddling aiding in human affairs.

The folkloric dispositions of these fictomeres are also reflected in my archetropy. I attribute the Gold Dragonne with my quest guide archetrope, fulfilling the role of setting adventuring parties on the right path. Conversely, I attribute the Winged Lion with my wise serpent archetrope. I may not be serpentine in the literal sense, but my behaviors and motivations within the dungeon are more than applicable to a wise serpent’s role in mythology and fiction alike.

When it’s all said and done, these conflicting qualities exist as a balance. They’re on opposite ends of a spectrum, and everything in between is rich with complexity. It’s likely why I experience them in tandem.

Let’s look at an example of what I mean: the eponymous baron in Bisclavret is a specific werewolf, but he’s also one of many depictions of The Werewolf as a somewhat noble being who is wronged by others—in this case, his wife—as a consequence of his true nature. This “noble beast” interpretation can be contrasted with folk tales of feral werewolves who threaten villagers and fear neither torch nor blade. Werewolves aren’t solely monsters meant to inspire empathy or fear, however. They can also serve specific literary functions, often as symbols of broader concepts and experiences. The werewolf story can be used as a metaphor for a young person coming-of-age, a challenging tale of tangling with the darker aspects of human nature, or even as an exploration of queer identity and the liminal spaces we occupy. These are certainly not unique to werewolves, and the latter is especially common among other creatures embraced by the horror genre.

Each broad interpretation of The Werewolf feels to me like a part of my identity on some level. I’m the werewolf who feels guilty for the harm he’s done, who tries to resist his feral urges, but I’m also the one who embraces that side and indulges in it. I’m the werewolf who was born this way, the one who was blessed (or cursed) by some spirit or deity, but also the one who was bitten or scratched—forever changed out of cruelty, indifference, or even a dark perversion of love. The only bits of werewolf folklore I won’t engage with on some level are those from practices and cultures that are closed for me. They’re not mine to claim on any level—certainly not in any way that would be respectful.

Like so many in our community, my connection to The Werewolf is intricately intertwined with almost all other aspects of my identity. I’m genderqueer, yet I strictly use he/him pronouns. I have a beard—a thick one, at that—and a flat chest, yet I also identify myself as butch and sapphic. It’s been uniquely gender-affirming for me to have partners who identify as lesbians—to be fully seen and understood as butch. It would feel incredibly uncomfortable and even dysphoric for me to be with a straight woman. Even within queer spaces, at times I feel either gravely misunderstood or utterly invisible. I am, on some level, expected to conform, and my refusal to do so marks me at best as ‘confused,’ and at worst as a threat.

I embrace the androgyny in my voice and mannerisms, and I easily—often unintentionally—slip into different social presentations depending on who’s around me. (I’m also autistic, to no one’s surprise.) Code-switching comes naturally to me, likely as a result of having to cobble together adequate social skills over the course of a decade, but also as a matter of safety as a queer person who’s only ever lived in red states. The Werewolf is a liminal creature, existing in several different worlds at once and moving through them with varying levels of ability. I am no different—charming and quick to make friends when I know the social landscape, and terribly awkward and clumsy when I don’t.