There is a new legend being spread by people of varying walks of life. From adventurers to merchants to guards to criminals and even some curious immortals, they say that amongst the sacred woods of Eden, hidden in the depths of ancient tulip poplars, there is an inn with infinite lodgings that always greets you with open arms. Its two hosts were so kind and so gracious that they gave you whatever dish or drink you request and listened to whatever tale you felt you had to get of your chest.

While it is true that some gods have entered this inn, they left no less bewildered than the mortals have been. Not all of them have found the inn though, no matter how much they searched and some have even refused to have a look, dismissing the rumors as nothing more than another new myth.

"Surely those two hosts are some sort of gods?" People thought. "But how old do you think they are?" "Maybe even as ancient as the sacred sovereigns?"

That last thought alone caused most to suffer from chills. Gods have always been feared, often out of necessity. Even after they've fallen, reborn mortal and lacking their millennia worth of memories, their powers could easily bring armies to their knees if supplied with enough fuel from people's faith and beliefs. Some deities, however, have more passive abilities and are considered less threatening because of them. Despite that sentiment, it is one of these 'non-threatening' beings that have managed to breach the borders of her universe; all in a desperate escape from her current boredom and loneliness.

She didn't know that though. She didn't know she had any powers to boast of, and much less that she had achieved immortality in her past life. In Gabriel's perspective, her staring into the night sky as she tries to extend her consciousness to the stars and beyond was no more special than all her other sudden bouts of existentialism. In fact just last week, when her brother had business to do outside of the forest, the young woman was sitting on the same roof she sat on now as she talked for hours on end with the silver eye that is their moon.

Gabriel did not mind the isolation. It's not like her brother was neglectful, far from it actually. However, she still couldn't wrap her head around why he's been been single handedly serving as the bartender for their inn. Normally they'd exchange shifts around the day, but for the past month or so, Vivianus always insisted to be the man behind the bar. Sometimes he would even shoo her out of the room for an hour or two for no apparent reason, tonight being one of those times. Gab had tried asking the patrons for any clue as to what the fuck was going on but, judging from all the weird and varying conspiracy theories, they knew as much as she did.

So now there she was, sitting on the roof and staring into the night sky, occasionally trying to get a quick glance of her brother through the diamond-shaped ceiling window. She could sometimes make out the figure of Vivianus talking to a hooded stranger she could've sworn she's seen around the inn before, but anytime she stared for too long, her brother would always stare back until she'd finally look away.

After a few more hours, she would suddenly jump and aim her knife at whoever had suddenly touched her shoulder, only to be laughed at, again.

"Vivi!" Gabriel yelled.

"Sorry, sorry." He said, flashing that charming smile that always made their patrons smile back.

"How do you even sneak up on me like that? EVERY TIME!" She flailed her arms to emphasize her dismay.

"I dunno." The man simply shrugged. "Also you can come inside now."

"And you still won't tell me why I couldn't in the first place?"

"Yep! Don't worry, he won't be coming back anyway."

"Who won't be coming back?"

He opened his mouth, but for a moment paused. "..I dunno."

She knows he can lie so much better than this. "Okay now you're just taunting me."

'And who knows if that was even true. It could a red herring for all I know.' She thought.

"Look, maybe when you're a bit older-"

"That's what you always say! Also I'm literally 23 now."

"And I will keep on saying it until you're old enough." And with that he immediately disappeared from her sight.

Gabriel sighed and opened the diamond window, jumping back down into the inn, oblivious to your universe's first contact with hers. The ceiling window automatically closed behind her.

The Wades' Multiplicity

Es gibt immer mehr als einen William Wade. Noch vor einem Spiegel wird deutlich, dass man sich dauernd im Leben zweimal begegnet. Alter Heiner-Müller-Werner-Hamacher-Witz: Kenn' ich nicht, rasier ich nicht. Immerhin hat nicht nur der König hat zwei Körper, Unrasierte haben das auch.

Das Recht der Person und das Rechtssubjekt, die sind auch durch Bilder an der "Gestaltung der Welt und der Verfasstheit der Menschen" (Bredekamp) beteiligt. William Wade ist ein Nachfolger, vielleicht Bild oder Schatten von William Wade, unter anderem von dem bekannten Abenteuerer, Diplomaten William Wade aus dem 16. Jahrhundert. Als Zeremonienmeister, Protokollchef ist aber dieser zweite Wade aus dem 18. Jahrhundert auch eine diplomatische Figur. Er ist sich selbst und anderen ein Vorbild und damit sich selbst und anderen ein Nachfolger. Er ist eine Mime, kein Schauspieler. Er ahmt nicht nur den anderen William Wade nach, er ahmt auch sich selbst noch nach, schon weil Ich ein Anderer, wenn auch kein total Anderer ist.

In mimetischen Strängen lassen sich Recht und Bildgebung an den kleinsten Stellen unterscheiden, vor allem Bild- und Rechtswissenschafler können das. Alles lässt sich trennen, jede Trennung prozessieren, jede Differenz operationalisieren, alles lässt sich für etwas reservieren. Meine Forschung und Lehre betrifft dabei (vergleichbar den Akteur-Netzwerk-Theorien, den Vorstellungen von Netzwerk und "Verschleifung" bei Karl-Heinz Ladeur und den Ideen zu Recht und Kulturtechnik bei Vismann) vague Assoziationen (Luhmann), die durch Trennungen und Austauschmanöver normativ sind und normative Effekte haben, sprich: die 'auf ungewisse Weise verbindlich' und auf gewisse Weise unverbindlich sind, weil normativ ist, was möglich ist und sein soll. Ob und was das wirklich ist, muss durch Auseinandersetzung 'geklärt', besser gesagt auseinandergesetzt werden. Das einzige, was wir in Zukunft teilen, sagte am ersten Arbeitstag Onkel Bazon (mein erster Chef), sind Probleme.

Distanznahme sei der "Kern normativer Praxis" heißt es noch mit Anklang an Carl Schmitts Vorstellung von Nomos und Nehmen/Teilen/Weiden bei Möllers. Distanzschaffen ist ein Schlüsselbegriff bei Aby Warburg. Bild- und Rechtswissenschaften kann man als Theorie und Praxis von Auseinandersetzungen verstehen, die durch Teilung binden. Was soll man vom Recht halten, was ist am Recht überhaupt haltbar? Das ius eine ars und Recht eine Scheidekunst ist, dass das Recht Differenzen operationalisiert, es scheidet, schichtet und mustert, es prozessiert die Differenzierungen, gibt ihnen Verfahren.

2.

In den Netzwerken kursiert bis heute die Idee, Follower seien Anhänger. Netzwerke sollen vernetzen und dabei Gesellschaft anreichern und bereichern. Ein vernetztes Recht und vernetzte Kommunikation sollen etwas vermehren. Vernetzt Euch: der sonst so zuverlässige Michel Serres hat mal ein Buch mit so einem Titel rausgehauen. Alina Lipp, die im Netz, auf Telegramm Propaganda für Putintoddler macht, hat einmal stolz die Anzahl der sog. Follower verkündet. Die ist supervernetzt. Dabei sind Follower zuerst eins: elektrisierte Anschlüsse. Ob sie aus Begeisterung oder aus dem im Netz blühenden Genuß am Fremdschämen, ob sie aus Empörung oder Jubel elektrisiert sind, das ist schwer zu sagen. Eins ist sicher: einer dieser Follower bin ich.

3.

Ein Protokollchef wie Wade, der Vorbild und Nachfolger in einem, besser gesagt in Zweien ist, liefert elektrisierenden Zwist. In den rhetorischen Institutionen, bei Quintilian, gibt es dafür Begriffe: enargeia oder evidentia. Ähnlich wie beim Begriff der Antike kann man beide Begriffe mit oder ohne polare Spannung lesen. Man kann die Begriffe als Vorgänge, Verfahren oder Techniken übersetzen, also auch als Protokolle. Dann meinen beide Begriffe Verfahren juridischer Bildgebung, die etwas vor Augen stellen. Im forensischen Kontext wäre das ein Zeigen, das bezeugen soll, das wäre ein Beweisen oder (Ge-)Wahrmachen.

In einer Gesellschaft, also einer Gesellschaft, die eine Signatur hat und insofern durch eins bezeichenbar ist, würde auch so eine Übersetzung schon reichen, wenn es dort zum Beispiel eine Perspektive, eine Wahrheit gäbe. Wäre die englische Gesellschaft nur Englisch, die bürgerliche Gesellschaft nur bürgerlich, die liberale Gesellschaft nur liberal und der Westen nur westlich, dann wäre auch die Wahrheit dort wohl früher oder später zur Eindeutigkeit und Einfachheit, wohl auch Einfältigkeit fähig. Dann könnte man das alles unterschreiben, sogar das, was Thomas Vesting darüber jüngst rechtstheoretisch und rechtsikonographisch mit Wades Bildnis von Thomas Gainsborough entfaltet hat. Der Stich oben ist eine Reproduktion. Es könnte reichen, nur das Bildnis von Wade zu zeigen, dann wäre die Höflichkeit und ihr Rechtsubjekt inbegriffen, wenn die Gesellschaft eine Signatur hätte.

Enargeia/ evidentia sind aber Begriffe aus einer Gesellschaft, die Ladeur treffend (multi-)polar nennt und wie Warburgs Staatstafeln viel, zuviel Signatur hat. So etwas ist ein Multiple, das ist mannigfaltig. Übersetzt man die Begriffe so, wie Warburg den Begriff und Bild der Antike übersetzt hat, wären anderen Formulierungen als "vor Augen stellen" treffender. Sie müssten die Polarität explizieren. Eine Reihe von Formulierungen kommen in Betracht. Besonders inspirierend ist nach Friedrich Weber-Steinhaus vor allem ein Text, den Heinrich Kleist über Verfahren und Akten, über Allmählichkeit, Fertigung, Gedanken und Reden geschrieben hat.

Was mit enargeia gemacht wird, das muss kein Stellen sein, nicht im Sinne einer Aufstellung und einer Besorgung von Stand oder Status. Es kann auch eine Her- und Darstellung, ein Vor- und Unterstellung sein, die etwas kippt, wendet, kehrt oder dreht (das würde mich wegen Aby Warburg und Edgar Wind besonders interessieren). Das kann auch etwas vor Augen passieren lassen, denn das decorum wäre dabei Teil einer Sortierung oder Musterung, die nicht im Passenden aufgeht, sondern auch passieren, durchgehen kann. Und überhaupt, warum vor Augen, wenn bei Quintilian eigentlich von Stellen unter den Augen die Rede ist?

Friedrich Weber-Steinhaus schließlich bringt mit seinem Verweis auf Kleist ein Missing-Link zwischen Quintilian und Warburg ins Spiel. Die Passage über den Zeremoniemeister führt energeia als das Polare vor, das etwas vor oder unter Augen lädt oder vor Augen laden lässt. Auch die Entladung wäre Polarisierung, die Spannung nicht auflöst. Was darin entlädt, leitet über, lädt an anders ab, anderes auf. Laden kann in dem Sinne eine der Polarisierungshandlungen sein, die Pablo Schneider anhand eins Kommentars zu Edgar Wind entfaltet. Und das wäre wohl jedes sonderbare Distanzschaffen, von dem Warburg nahelegt, dass es die Distanz, die es schafft, nicht zurücklegt. Warburgs Vorstellung von Polarität ist dem Verzehr, den anthropofagen und theophagen Verfahren, die er auf Tafel 79 kommentiert, eng verwandt, weil das polare Distanzschaffen wie ein 'Fressen' durch Verkehrung effektiv wird und unersättlich bleibt.

Stellt man das Bild von Wade in einen Text, lädt man etwas vor Augen, es könnte auch Höflichkeit sein, aber inbegriffen wäre sie dann nicht. Rüdiger Campe ist für die rhetorischen Verfahren ein Ansprechparter. Man müsste an anderer Stelle mehr dazu sagen.

made a fucked up new guy. might make a ref sheet for him idk

me: i am going to be very normal about reading emily wilson’s version of hector and andromache’s interaction in book six of the iliad.

me after reading emily wilson’s version of hector and andromache’s interaction in book six of the iliad:

Tempted to make a Hotelpod S6 prediction bingo card as a goof.

for that ask game you reblogged! I'm curious how you picked the roles for the extra characters in The Thrones of Stars, or any other behind the scenes sneak peeks you have to share from there |･ω･)

Sorry for the late response!! Thank you for this ask so much :)

For anyone curious, here's the story! It's a novelization of the Hoshimeguri no Kansokusha (eng: The Throne of the Stellar) event from 2018, but I worked hard to make it so that anyone could read it without any knowledge of the event or even the source material!

Now, here's the answers to your questions: (Some spoilers beneath the cut)

For the supporting cast + ZOOL, it sort of worked out from a base of an idea that I got from @zekkun-shion's post about ZOOL in Hoshimeguri, which I felt was a good start to build off of! I obviously changed some of the roles and ideas, but having each of them split up between the four main planets that aren't Eterno and Mistero made it easier to integrate them into the world. Another take I discovered while in the middle of writing The Thrones of Stars was @ enargeia's (Ao3, not Tumblr) story about ZOOL being on the various moons surrounding the main stars, which I thought was super awesome and cool! I didn't integrate any of that into my story aside from a few brief mentions of moons surrounding the stars, but it's something that's stuck in my mind and I love all the creative ways people try to put them into this story!

Now, as for the rest of the supporting cast, it was a little more vibes-based. I went with Tsumugi being on Lama because of this piece by @umii7love, since the outfit was so cool that it felt like a shame not to (I love her in the color green; she looks great!)

Rinto got put into the role as the blacksmith from the original story, since I didn't really love how the blacksmith treated Hope in the original story when he was more or less acting as a stand-in parental figure for the month before Hope decided to look for Curse. I figured that the visual of Rinto being the blacksmith was a little funny, but his personality and ability to handle Hope felt like a good match. Also, reunite Re:vale on Eterno! That's fun!

Kaoru was put on Sirena because I was looking between Alba and Sirena and I really wanted to make it seem like Carnelian was isolated and lonely, especially because a lot of his ideas in the original story come to fruition because he has no one to tell him no or to even think things through. I also felt that putting Kaoru with Sirena was a fun dichotomy, since even on the most relaxed planet, she's still busting her ass to get things done. Lastly, it was an aesthetic choice! I felt her pink hair would go really well with the general Sirenan aesthetic of bright and colorful, so her fate was sealed there.

Aya was put with Minami on Sirena, but her origin being Lama was something I used to help fuel some of the relationships between Orion and Sardinia and their respective stars. I wanted to show that immigration between stars was something that did occur, but not very often, and that people's nationalistic (? is it nationalism if it's for a planet, not a nation?) tendencies made them feel baffled at the very idea of leaving even a civil war-torn country for one living in peace. She serves a few different roles, which kind of ties into the fact that she's a plot device in i7 proper initially, but she also definitely grew into her own character quickly.

That leaves Shirou and Banri, who I put with Burst Roar for two different reasons. Shirou doesn't like. Do Much in the story itself, but that's also sort of the point of his character. He exists passively to cover everything Fang and the rest of Burst Roar isn't focusing on so that nothing gets neglected, so while they're dealing with an interstellar crisis, he's making sure their finances are in order. It's a sort of position that I wanted to give to a character that would make a fun cameo, but for anyone that's an anime-only and doesn't know him yet, then they're not going to feel too alienated. Banri, on the other hand, was put with Burst Roar because of a few things that are tied to the ending of the story that I have not published! I explain it pretty well in the narrative itself why he's with Burst Roar, but from a meta standpoint, it just Made Sense to me, and also him being a pilot felt like a relaxed role where people can approach him for advice at any time, but his job isn't to give advice quite like Tsumugi or Kaoru do.

With any characters I didn't mention that are part of the supporting cast, they fall into two categories: Exists in a small on-screen part, or exists off-screen for a role in one of my sequels. Otoharu falls into the first category, making a small cameo as Tsumugi's father on Lama, but his role is so small that I didn't think tagging him was appropriate. Meanwhile, Yaotome Papa and Ryo are both in the second category, with Yaotome Papa being name dropped as King Rigel, but he's never seen on screen, and Ryo's character name has yet to be revealed for a variety of reasons.

I wanted to push the narrative beyond what canon had to offer because these worlds that i7 gave me as a base allowed me to make some really fun lore and politics that feels wasteful to leave behind with just a novelization, so I'm hoping to use them some more when I write my original sequels working off of The Throne of Stars. For a lot of these supporting characters, their roles will be bigger in the sequels too, since I could only hollow out so much space in the original story for them.

As for a sneak peek scene, I guess I could allow a small piece!

Photographs like snowflakes fall from fingers onto the table, each of them a candid taken using some well-practiced tricks and a small hand mirror. Most of them depict at least one of two figures: a boy pretending to be a man, and a leader pretending to be a subordinate. Some photographs focus on other details, such as the blood under the boy’s fingernails or the dirt tracked on the floor far from the entrance. The assassin picks one, holding the photograph between his fingers as he drinks in the figures trapped inside. “Was there anyone else?” The other assassin nods with an easy smile, sitting back as papers shuffle between her well-manicured hands. The papers are handwritten, with small, sharp letters that detail the assassin’s observations. Most of the words are transcribed conversations held between the boy and leader, taking care to denote who was speaking by marking the speakers as “small” and “tall” respectively. A few rogue doodles, mainly of the leader, fill the margins in the way that ivy climbs up walls—decorative to some, a nuisance to others.  “Yes, clockmaker in the back.”  “No pictures?” “He didn’t come out.”  “Sad.” The assassins pick apart each others’ work, vultures gorging themselves on rotting carcasses until they’ve had their fill. It’s dirty work, but someone must do it—might as well have it be someone who can keep the dirty work neat.  “This is disappointing. It’s not worth a kill.” There are some things that aren’t worth killing, things that are too small, too weak, too unimportant. It’s a waste of time, talent, and resources. If death wants to bring more into her domain, she has plenty of other tools than the assassin lap dogs at her disposal. She is the queen eternal, ruling from her silver chair burning with the light of tortured souls. All will bow before her eventually.  “Probably not.” The assassin agrees. “Let’s head back to Escoria.” The assassins take their work with them as they melt into the night, disappearing into the miserable maw of earth that they consider their home. No trail of blood nips at their heels this time, nor the scent of death like an expensive perfume—they vanish like night being chased away from breaking dawn.  The boy and the leader may live another day.

Enargeia

Day 3: CREATE (Texas Toast)

When they first joined BLU, Pyro thought it couldn’t get any better than this. New friends! Other new friends who they were allowed to set on fire! Basically all the rainbows they could manage without having to worry about that normal, everyday stuff like finding their next meal or stealing candy from convenience stores. Just work that they loved and a blank cheque to do it.

Yet, they can’t deny there’s something nice about living with Engie too. On weekends, those two long, bitter days when there’s no work at the battlefields and they have to entertain themself by lighting up in the pits or the fireplace (which Engie had specially installed for them since New Mexico homes don’t come with fireplaces), they actually find they’re alright with the concept of downtime. Something about Engie…he makes what would be boring simply…peaceful. Even on the rare occasion BLU gives them a holiday, and the painful two-days become excruciating three-days, they find they don’t mind so much as long as Engie is setting the schedule. He makes breakfast (eggs with bacon in a smiley face, or pancakes shaped like hearts) into an event. Going to sleep (which Pyro hates with a passion, will run themself ragged until four in the morning rather than lie down and try to make their brain go quiet) has become strictly regimented in an early-to-bed-early-to-rise sort of way. It’s actually shocking how much having a normal sleep schedule and regular meals will do for you.

That, plus having something non-work/non-fire related to set themself to, which isn’t really Engie’s doing but he was their inspiration. Between the moments spent with one another—be that meals or the much beloved story time—Engie occupies himself in his at-home workshop. Pyro watches from time to time, delighted how he loses himself in the not-quite-work-not-quite-hobby, enthralled with how things simply spring to existence under his palms.

The ranch is really to thank for their sudden fecundity. They were resistant, at first, when Miss Pauling “““encouraged””” them to move off-base and Engie kindly offered his home, but it fits them well. They want to make this place fit. They’ve even taken it upon themself to go fix up the old fence on the north side, and to learn enough engineering to tinker with the refrigerator since Engie keeps saying he’ll get to it but never does.

However, it’s not quite enough.

“I want to paint the side of the barn,” they tell Engie one day.

He looks up from the mini-dispenser that's been in development hell for months now. “Really? Sure it’s been a few years, but it’s not like it’s chippin’ yet.”

“Not as in painting all one color. As in paint something. Like a mural.” They glance out the window. “I want to make something. The way you do.”

“Hm,” Engie says. “I suppose I do have a couple of buckets lying ‘round the shop…”

They set to it that afternoon.

The buckets slop and occasionally spill with Pyro’s excitement, the brush thick with each swipe. They can feel the power of creation within them, and they begin to shape a sunrise on the barn’s bright and bare wall. Engie loans them a ladder, and stops by every hour or so, watching something beautiful come to be.

Pyro pours their heart and soul into it. They love until they have calluses through their gloves.

And when it’s done, it looks like utter shit.

“Oh I don’t think it’s that bad, darl,” Engie assures them.

“It’s hideous,” they mourn.

What was supposed to be a combination of yellows and oranges runs into the blue in a brown muck. The rainbow which they’ve thrown over the scene is wobbly and super crooked now that they step back.

“It looked so different in my head,” they say. “But when I tried to make it real it just came out all wrong.”

“Have you ever painted anything before, Py?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have started with something so big for your first ever project. Making things takes time, and a bit of practice. You start with a potato clock and work your way up to the wristwatch.”

“I’m just so tired of things not staying. When I make fire, it’s beautiful, but then it’s gone right away.” Their shoulders droop. “Sometimes it feels like destroying rather than creating.”

Engie thinks for a minute.

“Come to the workshop for a moment, darling. I wanna show you something.”

Dragging their feet, they follow him inside. The great space of the barn-turned workshop is warm despite its ravenousness, machines in low power mode gently beeping and throwing off heat. He guides them to one of the out of the way tables, clearing a space and rustling up a torchlike device from his piles of scrap.

“This here is a woodburner.”

“Anyone can be a wood burner.”

He chuckles. But then he guides their hands, showing them step by step how to work the small device, standing behind them while they carve a small unicorn out of a piece of wood using only a flame.

“It’s still ugly,” they complain.

“Sure is.” He sets the unicorn, which is just a mangled horse shape since Pyro accidentally chopped off the horn, on one of his tool shelves. “But now you’ve gone and given it a try. Now the next one you make will be a little better. And a little better after that.”

“That’s going to take so looonnngggg….”

“True. But I’ll be here keeping you company.”

That won’t be so bad then. They pick up the torch again, and as Engie settles in, they resolve to prove that fire can make just as well as it can unmake.

"Ancient critics praised [The Iliad] for its 'enargeia', which means something like 'bright unbearable reality'. It's the word used when gods come to earth not in disguise but as themselves" -Alice Oswald, "Memorial: A Version of Homer's Iliad"

Emily D'Angelo enargeia 2021

enargeia, an excerpt

uncoloured Enargeia doodle for funsies

Doctrina Principal 22: Enargeia y Epilogismos

Doctrina Principal 22: Enargeia y Epilogismos

La Doctrina del Epilogismos, o Pensamiento Empírico En el pasado hemos criticado a los filósofos de la polis (aquellos que “filosofan” para el estado) que están dispuestos a colocar un sello dudoso de “verdad” a la desinformación. Hoy deseo continuar exponiendo el Canon (nuestro “estándar” de la verdad, que comprende nuestra epistemología) compartiendo algunas notas sobre Kyriai Doxai (Doctrinas…

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fell asleep listening to this:

which is a lovely album, and woke up like 2 hours later with this playing:

(and also had woken up very briefly to hear this:)

Enargeia experiments again! I like this one a lot more