Account inactive @literorrery@awoo.space

And yet, it feels at every turn as if there were an unseen intelligence following my will. At times it seems benign, cleverly interpreting my words when I unexpectedly say the right thing the first time. At times it seems dull-witted and slow, when I fail to explain myself clearly enough for it to make sense of my instruction. And yet at every stage, I'm the only one casting any spells, second-talon and via proxies. If the spell fizzles, it's my poor commands, not "the ritual's."

Progress at work. There's something thrilling -- and quietly terrifying -- in watching spells cast themselves, lines of power unfolding fractally from their housings. There's no intent to it, no intellect. I tell this crystal "draw this line relative to yourself, then that. Put this glyph here. Fetch that reagent from this shelf, deposit it on that space." And then after a thousand such small instructions, the scrying window opens, without me evoking it.

I love winter. The cold in the air makes everything feel crisp, clean, and fresh. It's like the whole world is being put through a gentle blessing, chasing off old knots of tangled intent. We're getting another chance to do it all right.

I hate winter. Even at this hour, the carriers are wing to wing cramped and smell vaguely of last night's overindulgences and blackwater fumes. If I wanted to smell that, I'd go to the office holiday party. At least my kit will be dry at work.

@Ulfra_Wolfe@witches.town Lindy, from Car Wash, had this bon mot to offer in these situations: https://awoo.space/media/BFW9YH0RD9p1i2zjUWY

@aldersprig@tootplanet.space They wander in another entrance, on another level.

Or worse, they end up in the _offices_.

Want is it called the Amazon Coin, and not the Bezo?

@Food@mastodon.art The Observatory, a room in my house dedicated to ritual, intimacy, empathy, and bonding.

Consciously contextualized, intentionally meaningful.

@drwho ... grep for your username? =n.n=

@drwho for i in `find /var/spool/postfix/deferred/*/*`; do rm $i; done

@drwho I was one in college.

It was a terrible idea.

@angrboda @Soreth I know you aren't the only ones. More than once I've worried about members of family and community deciding a fast death is less terrifying than a slow one. I still have hope, but I also have privilege and some small financial safety. Many don't, and the fear that comes from that is very real. I wish you comfort and peace, you and he both. You aren't alone. I see you.

@angrbodahe has nothing to be embarrassed about. Unless she enjoys the embarrassment, of course. =n.n=

@packetcharmer@witches.town @Soreth Hedge wizard, hearth wizard, bodger, all are valid and valuable professions. I'll trade any three high-minded "wizards" that don't know which end of the wand is dangerous for a good hedgemage who can retune an entire grove with a single well-sung chord.

@Soreth @packetcharmer@witches.town There's naught wrong with alchemy. All the cool kids are doing it. =>.>=

@packetcharmer@witches.town ... turns out I haven't got it well-tagged on the site, but https://orrery.prismaticmedia.com/categories/de-magia will find the intro post. I'll try to surface the rest when I get some time. Fixing the site needs to be one of my upcoming focus projects.

@Fuego I'm listening.

Normally, the flight to work is a half-hour. Wyvernbight's thermals aren't very strong, and I'm not exactly the most graceful of beasts, but I can get from one spot to another without too much hassle.

When it rains, though, the skies become sodden spans of unpleasantness. Flying in the rain with dedicated ritual gear guarantees either four times the travel time or something not surviving the trip. I'm grateful for the carriers in these times, but Great Work are they cramped.