Creatures of the Compact
Arguers ii
by NewTrickyNuisance
tw for possible body horror at the start, lovecraftian obssession with geometry, and lowkey horror vibes that are supposed to be funny
This is a slightly late Christmas gift…to me. It’s incidental if you enjoy this but I very much loved writing this and hope you had a good holiday.
“The ‘teeth’ are blocks of solid white with no space or cracks in between. Split in two, curved forward, they surve as the base of the [aliens] angular heads. Lips peeled, it looks almost like an avess, although the eyes are paler than any healthy bird’s could ever be.”
-Into the Waters, by Eleluu of the Pachrpiin
It’s not enough.
“From the beautiful curves of its gracious, swooping back to the terrible angles of its jutting joints, all could be traced back to one thing.”
-The Deserts of Daimkiaatus, by Eleluu of the Pachrpiin
It’s never going to be enough.
“How could it be? How could it be? That the gracious gods built sight, that the ideas made which sprouted new ideas, that the forces which wrote us into the Universal page had done so for one thing. How could it be? That everything is one thing, that nothing is nothing. Madness. All of it, madness.”
-The Hen Who Found the Stars, by Eleluu of the Pachrpiin
Everything is paltry compared to it. Everything is nothing compared to it. Nothing could compare to it, nothing at all, not the puffs of her breath against glass or the glowing of dim lanterns or the small joys. Because it is the big joys, too, because it is everything.
And everything can never be captured, pinned down, taken apart on the operating table like a simple puzzle — like a clue to be unraveled, fabric to be torn, paper to be ripped, flesh to be rent asunder.
She can’t do it. She can’t. It won’t work.
The Great Arguers of time past did not speak of it but she can see between their lines, read between the quotes, catch a glimpse of the truth slinking its sordid way into obscurity. The truth. The truths. All of the truth. Everything.
It all led up to this and she knew, as she as known since hatching, what about this world makes sense.
“The hexagon is a wonderful, stable shape. Used everywhere. It is reliable, it is steady, but reliability is not the rule of our world…”
The affini have come. The blooming-beaus, the aliens, the things which have so turned their world over. In their eyes, a glimpse of the truth. In their eyes, part of the truth. Saviors. Philosophers of a great and servile kind, all in order to a greater meaning.
“Squares, too, are wonderful. So close, so tantalizingly close to what is needed, and yet it falls short. How must it suffer, the fate of one who can just barely fail at comprehension, the fate of most mortals. But not the fate of me. Not the fate of me.”
She has sent in her request for domestication.
She has sent in her list of ‘fetishes’ and ‘kinks’ and ‘preferred partnerships.’ She has sent it in. She has sent it in. She is holy. She will be sanctified in the light of holy bliss.
It’s so much. But so beautiful. All her life she has chased doggedly after the truth — as all pachrpiin must — and she found it, she found it, in the eyes of these alien and foreign and wondrous things.
“Tje triangle the triangle the triangle the triangle yes ues yes yes yes it is good it is good i like it good
you should like triangle i like triangle we like triangle ALL will like triangle when foolish birds are purged when philosophers descend from the dead and reviled when truth flowers like a broken pinhead when when when
when triangle.”
-The Ultimate Thesis of Our Complicated World, by Eleluu of the Pachrpiin
Eleluu freezes.
Her owner is shaped like a triangle. She didn't even ask and yet they knew to do this. How could they have known, when her several millions of published words had so subtly expressed her love of triangular form? She had been subtle, secretive in her adoration, fiercely though it may burn.
Her peers would not understand. But they are fools and shall die fools, forced to see the light when the triangular philosophers descend from the heavens to uplift them all. Every day more and more see the light, even if what they follow are just the affini servants instead of the grander shape, pyramidal of the world.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs. “Come closer, my love, my love. Please. I waited so long.”
The beauty of the triangular form of her affini is matched only by the intensity of Eleluu’s lust in this very moment. Desire of every kind runs amok in her heart, desires she has not felt in all her decades of living and desires she has felt in every day of her decades of living.
“Oh, little one,” God says, Its Beauty Transfixing Her In Every Living Second. “Do you want triangle shaped bells to throw? Like the toys for good little avess chicks?”
“Yessssss,” Eleluu croaks, voice broken by sheer agonizing lust.
This isn’t a pachrpiin thing, it’s just an Eleluu thing. This is purely her own…interest.
She is very happen and surrounded by triangles of all kinds, though she is not available to comment because she refuses to engage with anyone who isn’t shaped like a triangle or owned by someone shaped like a triangle.
Also, quick note that the avess are less like dogs and more like cows. Cattle is the closest thing these birds have to pets.