Disclaimer: This is a work in progress. I’m hoping to include it in the next story but who fucking knows. It also follows a traditional story pattern; this is obviously an off-colony story and it’s the type Sullivan would have heard from traditional storytellers. Hence the language and structure.
For the first story, scroll down or find the “story” category.
Did you ever hear the story of Esteyr? Now I tell you, I tell you.
Esteyr lived much time ago, before the colony. The world was right blue.
The land was very small to live, but this was too long before you to fret.
Now, Esteyr had a problem. The world and surroundings was not much known yet.
Esteyr wanted to know the space all around. So he built a hardy ship.
The ship was the first of its kind, so he planned it from wingtip to wingtip.
(In those days, the technology was different, so it was not like now.
The ship was constructed small and of nature, with tree branches for a bow.)
Esteyr travelled far and wide in his little ship, watching and making notes.
The stars sang him songs, showed him wonder, told him anecdotes.
So he carried on, for so much time that his hair grew incredibly long.
Esteyr ate fresh-picked fruits, drank steaming-hot broths, and sang an endless folk song.
Then Esteyr had a visitor. Unexpected, unannounced, it was Loon.
Make yourself at home, he said, bewildered. She was as from waterstone hewn.
Won’t delay, she said to him, her voice as a cooling wind. What is your goal?
With reverence, he told her his aim: to create a map of cosmos whole.
Her stony face hardened and set as he spake; her brow furrowed and lips thinned.
An admirable goal, she said simply, her expression turning chagrined.
Muchly appreciated, he said. And with her approval he was jolly.
I know, my child, Loon told him. And I respect your self-evident folly.
Folly? Esteyr wondered aloud, his joy dissipated, his face fallen.
You are looking for something beyond your reach, she laughed. You should not fall in.
And with those haunting words, she vanished entirely. Esteyr was left to sit.
He mired in his thoughts, worried and afraid. Cursed by Loon herself. Well, shit.
Now in our tale, we take a repose; guess what happens before we come to a close.