SIHLMEGOZOK:
✹ STORY ✹
May of 1951 - May of 1990
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Anastaša Steinkellner and her aunt, Röse, are the owners of a grand hotel in the Anai holy city of Sihlmegozok, Nebärav. In the wake of World War II, a civil war breaks out, the catalyst being the religion of Anaism itself. The country's successors to the Nazis will kill, and they will steal, and they will never repent. It seems that there will be no divine armageddon; man will kill himself first.
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"I was an ugly little girl. Short bowl-cut bangs, crooked stork's beak for a nose, corduroy overalls, scabs and scabs and scabs. I was a wiry specimen with a thick tangle of raven feathers for hair. I still, to this day, sometimes find myself unable to stand the sight of pretty things (Jüli, of course, was likely the example that people will think of when I say this, but this skeletal repulsion had been stored in my pancreas for a good long while before I ever even met her). However, the peculiarity was that I could not help but fall in love with the arts. This was the strange tangle of vines that grew invasive in my gut for the entirety of my formative years-- 'Parallax': the illusionary offset of something against its backdrop due to a change in viewing position. If I closed my right eye, I could convince myself that the marble statues with their smooth skin and missing limbs in a museum were the secret of the universe. If I closed my left, I saw the plagues and the rape and Pompeii.
But the one thing I was most horrified by and, quite particularly, awed by, was the hotel. Oh, it was a living thing, with an esophagus in the elevators, stomach in the meat freezer, kidneys in the Eastern Thermae. 'Hoje Aleksandria'; Hotel Alexandria. It was magnificent, old and unchanging; I would be down in the city, looking up at it sitting on the summit of Mt. Bōdyäch, like something had torn a section out of the curtain of the sky, and the hotel was its eye peering through. The wars were bad. This building was somehow worse."
May of 1951 - May of 1990
✹✹✹✹✹✹
Anastaša Steinkellner and her aunt, Röse, are the owners of a grand hotel in the Anai holy city of Sihlmegozok, Nebärav. In the wake of World War II, a civil war breaks out, the catalyst being the religion of Anaism itself. The country's successors to the Nazis will kill, and they will steal, and they will never repent. It seems that there will be no divine armageddon; man will kill himself first.
✹✹✹✹✹✹
"I was an ugly little girl. Short bowl-cut bangs, crooked stork's beak for a nose, corduroy overalls, scabs and scabs and scabs. I was a wiry specimen with a thick tangle of raven feathers for hair. I still, to this day, sometimes find myself unable to stand the sight of pretty things (Jüli, of course, was likely the example that people will think of when I say this, but this skeletal repulsion had been stored in my pancreas for a good long while before I ever even met her). However, the peculiarity was that I could not help but fall in love with the arts. This was the strange tangle of vines that grew invasive in my gut for the entirety of my formative years-- 'Parallax': the illusionary offset of something against its backdrop due to a change in viewing position. If I closed my right eye, I could convince myself that the marble statues with their smooth skin and missing limbs in a museum were the secret of the universe. If I closed my left, I saw the plagues and the rape and Pompeii.
But the one thing I was most horrified by and, quite particularly, awed by, was the hotel. Oh, it was a living thing, with an esophagus in the elevators, stomach in the meat freezer, kidneys in the Eastern Thermae. 'Hoje Aleksandria'; Hotel Alexandria. It was magnificent, old and unchanging; I would be down in the city, looking up at it sitting on the summit of Mt. Bōdyäch, like something had torn a section out of the curtain of the sky, and the hotel was its eye peering through. The wars were bad. This building was somehow worse."
