theodor_gylden: (blind without 'em)
Theodor has already punched a man today for wishing him luck. Zailors, like actors, believe that the words good luck mean ill luck; only blood can protect against the misfortune to come, and it must be the blood of whatever fool invited it. While Theodor could not tell you what he believes, he will not allow misfortune on to his zubmarine. No blood-curses, no accidents, no zee-serpents from the depths. Misfortune alone can destroy a voyage -- not, Theodor convinced himself, the failure to prepare, but that which renders preparation useless.

Nevertheless: all is prepared. The ship is ready. The wide black waves await.

[time-wimey post for events from the maiden voyage of h & t's zubmarine, whenever that is.]
theodor_gylden: (not an adventurer a scholar dammit)
"The most ardent Spiritist should welcome a searching inquiry into the potential faculties of spirits still in the flesh. Until we know more of these, those other phenomena to which he appeals must remain unintelligible because isolated, and are likely to be obstinately disbelieved because they are impossible to understand." - W. H. Myers, Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research

On Prayer.

May. 19th, 2011 03:39 am
theodor_gylden: (blind without 'em)
Written in Danish, left folded beside a shared bed -- )

-- warning for, within the comments, the discussion of suicide and suicidal motives.
theodor_gylden: (not an adventurer a scholar dammit)
The trouble of relying upon fungal tisanes is that they do nothing to make Theodor feel human in the morning; little makes Theodor feel human then, except for a pot of black tea strong enough to do violence. Henrik, of course, has been suitably trained to reach for the Assam when his husband wakes, and now Theodor drinks from the cup poured for him while hunched in a favoured armchair.

From a book of Icelandic legends, he reads of the education of Saemunder the Wise -- said to have studied sorcery in an underground school where everything the students learned, they got from books written in fiery red letters which could be read in the dark. He wonders, idly, whether Saemunder knew the Correspondence.

Even more idly, he wonders whether Louis Plumb would be more likely to attend lessons if he were learning under the Devil. The thought only makes his fingers twitch on the pages; he raises the cup to his lips, and breathes in the scent of Assam.
theodor_gylden: (blind without 'em)
Simulacra )
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