Diaries of the Starving Anthropologist
Quote from Indy on October 27, 2023, 2:50 pmThe following roleplay is set approximately 1-2 years after the events of Silk Threads.
It chronicles the adventures of Zander in his anthropological studies.
It’s been three days on the road since I’ve seen another person and I might be loosing it. I have nothing but the same dusty tune wheezing from a battered pair of earphones through an equally battered cassette tape that looked like it’s seen war. The tapes have been the only thing that kept me sane. I’m getting more and more worried I’ve worn a hole through them. At least it’s beautiful. Ahead, I see the beginnings of a dusty day emerging over a rolling green hill, and below the dazzling blue of the ocean.
That's always the trouble, with anthropology research. Sometimes, you only have the slightest clue to go off of. Maybe I’ll cave and island-hop to the nearest local tourist retreat, if nothing else to ask for directions. But I probably won't because some thread of stubbornness is holding strong. It was delicate at best to ask the questions I really want to ask, and I don't want to raise the wrong kind of suspicions to the local pack I was trying to ingratiate myself into.
Besides, a tourist destination would just be salt in the wound. Maybe proper anthropologists can afford to stay in a hotel, but presumably those anthropologists get better funding than the Christmas money their mothers send. It is what it is, but it does make me a bit envious for the well-paved road. I just haven’t figured out yet how to worm “werewolf pack” into legitimate anthropology research. Maybe, someday, that would all be common kept knowledge and my research would be considered the pioneering work of the field. Unfortunately, I was likely to be long-dead by then. Today, I was probably going to eat a lizard and sleep in the dirt again…
Update. I did eat a lizard. The dirt is just as poorly as I recall it. But below, I see the glint catching the horizon as the sun sets. Is it just the reflection of the sand? Or some secret tourist retreat for the uber rich? Equally are possible, and yet the third possibility is I’ve found what I’m looking for. If all goes well, I might get a break from the lizards.
The following roleplay is set approximately 1-2 years after the events of Silk Threads.
It chronicles the adventures of Zander in his anthropological studies.
It’s been three days on the road since I’ve seen another person and I might be loosing it. I have nothing but the same dusty tune wheezing from a battered pair of earphones through an equally battered cassette tape that looked like it’s seen war. The tapes have been the only thing that kept me sane. I’m getting more and more worried I’ve worn a hole through them. At least it’s beautiful. Ahead, I see the beginnings of a dusty day emerging over a rolling green hill, and below the dazzling blue of the ocean.
That's always the trouble, with anthropology research. Sometimes, you only have the slightest clue to go off of. Maybe I’ll cave and island-hop to the nearest local tourist retreat, if nothing else to ask for directions. But I probably won't because some thread of stubbornness is holding strong. It was delicate at best to ask the questions I really want to ask, and I don't want to raise the wrong kind of suspicions to the local pack I was trying to ingratiate myself into.
Besides, a tourist destination would just be salt in the wound. Maybe proper anthropologists can afford to stay in a hotel, but presumably those anthropologists get better funding than the Christmas money their mothers send. It is what it is, but it does make me a bit envious for the well-paved road. I just haven’t figured out yet how to worm “werewolf pack” into legitimate anthropology research. Maybe, someday, that would all be common kept knowledge and my research would be considered the pioneering work of the field. Unfortunately, I was likely to be long-dead by then. Today, I was probably going to eat a lizard and sleep in the dirt again…
Update. I did eat a lizard. The dirt is just as poorly as I recall it. But below, I see the glint catching the horizon as the sun sets. Is it just the reflection of the sand? Or some secret tourist retreat for the uber rich? Equally are possible, and yet the third possibility is I’ve found what I’m looking for. If all goes well, I might get a break from the lizards.
Quote from Indy on November 4, 2023, 4:15 pmUnnamed Tasmanian Island Entry 2:
Well, there's good news and there's bad news. As my mother always said, it's best to start with the good news first and work your way up from there.
The good news is I won't be eating another lizard tonight and I probably won't be freezing my tail off.
The bad news is I appear to have been taken as a 'forced guest' by the party I encountered to the west. Some might use the term prisoner, although I believe that is an aggressive word. It is possibly a cultural misunderstanding, although I can't seem to get through to them. Any attempt to speak with them has resulted in a flurry of unfamiliar words - Palawa Kani if I were to guess - but as I'd never heard the language spoken (curse so few tapes taken of the language spoken!) I can only take an educated guess. I may be regretting not taking more courses in Linguistics.
They are not unkind people. The two women have been giving me the side eye, but in their defense they are traveling with a boy no older than twelve. I'm sure they're just concerned. The three men who travel with them do not seem very amused either, but at least they've offered me a place by their fire. The boy gave me some dried meat, berries, and nuts. So scratch Souffle a la lizard off the menu tonight.
Once, I think I've caught the boy speaking in English. So I suspect they may understand me... only distrust me. I will attempt to make better progress on it tomorrow.
They are human, but they seem to know something. Otherwise, why would they act so strangely? I am hoping, anyways, they can point me in the right direction once we clear this little misunderstanding. If I'm lucky, maybe they'll let me take tapes of their spoken language so there are at least more records of Palawa Kani available.
Unnamed Tasmanian Island Entry 2:
Well, there's good news and there's bad news. As my mother always said, it's best to start with the good news first and work your way up from there.
The good news is I won't be eating another lizard tonight and I probably won't be freezing my tail off.
The bad news is I appear to have been taken as a 'forced guest' by the party I encountered to the west. Some might use the term prisoner, although I believe that is an aggressive word. It is possibly a cultural misunderstanding, although I can't seem to get through to them. Any attempt to speak with them has resulted in a flurry of unfamiliar words - Palawa Kani if I were to guess - but as I'd never heard the language spoken (curse so few tapes taken of the language spoken!) I can only take an educated guess. I may be regretting not taking more courses in Linguistics.
They are not unkind people. The two women have been giving me the side eye, but in their defense they are traveling with a boy no older than twelve. I'm sure they're just concerned. The three men who travel with them do not seem very amused either, but at least they've offered me a place by their fire. The boy gave me some dried meat, berries, and nuts. So scratch Souffle a la lizard off the menu tonight.
Once, I think I've caught the boy speaking in English. So I suspect they may understand me... only distrust me. I will attempt to make better progress on it tomorrow.
They are human, but they seem to know something. Otherwise, why would they act so strangely? I am hoping, anyways, they can point me in the right direction once we clear this little misunderstanding. If I'm lucky, maybe they'll let me take tapes of their spoken language so there are at least more records of Palawa Kani available.
Quote from Indy on November 30, 2023, 11:08 amUnnamed Tasmanian Island Entry 3:
We have been traveling for two days. I think we must have circled the island at least twice now, for it is not a large one. My attempts to broach friendship amongst them has remained shallow at best. I have managed to learn a few of their words - one which I believe is a greeting for the morning, another an expression of frustration, and the third referring to the berries they eat. Yet my attempts to use their language has not garnered friendship - quit the contrary they regard me with uncertain eyes.
The boy is different. He always seems curious about me, but only when the adults don't seem to be looking. He has watched as I write, and been amused when I gave him a small bit of paper and pen to draw with. I would have included his image in this journal, however his guardians took the paper and burned it before I had a chance to look at it.
I am uncertain our purposes in traveling together. To my end, I look only to confirm the rumors I have heard and to learn more of this pack if so. To their end, I am unclear what they gain in our relationship as such. Perhaps I am a prisoner, yet they do not guard me at night. I would be free to flee off into the wilderness if I please. On the second day we came so close to the docks, I am sure I could have waited there until a boat came by and requested a ride to the larger islands. In the day if I wander far, their voices are uncertain but they do not stop my either. I am free to go, if I insist on it.
They fascinate me. They distrust me, but they are kind to me. They share their fire and food without asking for more in turn. I have begun to wonder if I am in the process of some kind of test - although to what I would gain should I pass, or loose if I fail, remains an open question.
However, one way or another our interactions will end soon. The full moon is in three days. If I cannot gain their trust by then, then surely I must leave them - for as much as their safety as mine. Perhaps in my second-skin, the answers will be clearer.
Unnamed Tasmanian Island Entry 3:
We have been traveling for two days. I think we must have circled the island at least twice now, for it is not a large one. My attempts to broach friendship amongst them has remained shallow at best. I have managed to learn a few of their words - one which I believe is a greeting for the morning, another an expression of frustration, and the third referring to the berries they eat. Yet my attempts to use their language has not garnered friendship - quit the contrary they regard me with uncertain eyes.
The boy is different. He always seems curious about me, but only when the adults don't seem to be looking. He has watched as I write, and been amused when I gave him a small bit of paper and pen to draw with. I would have included his image in this journal, however his guardians took the paper and burned it before I had a chance to look at it.
I am uncertain our purposes in traveling together. To my end, I look only to confirm the rumors I have heard and to learn more of this pack if so. To their end, I am unclear what they gain in our relationship as such. Perhaps I am a prisoner, yet they do not guard me at night. I would be free to flee off into the wilderness if I please. On the second day we came so close to the docks, I am sure I could have waited there until a boat came by and requested a ride to the larger islands. In the day if I wander far, their voices are uncertain but they do not stop my either. I am free to go, if I insist on it.
They fascinate me. They distrust me, but they are kind to me. They share their fire and food without asking for more in turn. I have begun to wonder if I am in the process of some kind of test - although to what I would gain should I pass, or loose if I fail, remains an open question.
However, one way or another our interactions will end soon. The full moon is in three days. If I cannot gain their trust by then, then surely I must leave them - for as much as their safety as mine. Perhaps in my second-skin, the answers will be clearer.
Quote from Indy on December 4, 2023, 12:07 amUnnamed Tasmanian Island Entry 4:
We have been climbing higher. To the east and south, the island is relatively flat and the shore slopes effortlessly into the sea. Yet the center of the island is comprised of impressive peaks, with the north and west meeting the ocean in impressive cliffs. I have come to realize our journey was not merely circling. My guides seem to have been picking the least intrusive path upwards to ascend to them. I feel embarrassed to only realize now. With but a day until the full moon, I have come to realize I am separated now from the mainland by not only an ocean but now at least a thousand feet. Even in my alterform, making the trek downwards without injury will not be easy.
Yet in spite of these difficulties, I cannot help but admire the beauty of where we travel. I had studied the plants and fauna as best as I could before I arrived, yet in person is a different matter. How was I to know how vibrant the flowers of the banksia marginata would appear? Or to see the small dark eyes of a Pademelon as it slumbers in the trees, with a matching pair in turn of its baby? Or indeed the many colorful parrots which congregate in the trees, calling out in alarm as we pass? I am struck at once that I am on another world altogether. I am a visitor, and where I traverse I do so with care.
Now close to afternoon, I had thought this would be the time I take my departure from the group and quest elsewhere for a time. I do not want to frighten my hosts during the full moon. Yet something very strange occurred. Just as I had thought to make my own departure, my hosts did so first. The two women and the three men stopped at a peak, muttered to themselves, and turned the other way. At first they tugged at me with insistent arms - and I might have followed them, only to notice the boy remained as he was. I had tried to ask about him, but they would not answer.
Finally one of the woman had merely shook her head sadly and declared, "Stay, and it is your giudizio as well"
I had asked her what this meant, but by then the adults had turned aside and the meaning was clear. I could choose to return with them, or stay with the boy. To face what, I do not know. But it was both my curiosity, and concern for the boy, which stayed me... and so here I find myself with him, facing into the maw of what I imagine is something terrible.
Unnamed Tasmanian Island Entry 4:
We have been climbing higher. To the east and south, the island is relatively flat and the shore slopes effortlessly into the sea. Yet the center of the island is comprised of impressive peaks, with the north and west meeting the ocean in impressive cliffs. I have come to realize our journey was not merely circling. My guides seem to have been picking the least intrusive path upwards to ascend to them. I feel embarrassed to only realize now. With but a day until the full moon, I have come to realize I am separated now from the mainland by not only an ocean but now at least a thousand feet. Even in my alterform, making the trek downwards without injury will not be easy.
Yet in spite of these difficulties, I cannot help but admire the beauty of where we travel. I had studied the plants and fauna as best as I could before I arrived, yet in person is a different matter. How was I to know how vibrant the flowers of the banksia marginata would appear? Or to see the small dark eyes of a Pademelon as it slumbers in the trees, with a matching pair in turn of its baby? Or indeed the many colorful parrots which congregate in the trees, calling out in alarm as we pass? I am struck at once that I am on another world altogether. I am a visitor, and where I traverse I do so with care.
Now close to afternoon, I had thought this would be the time I take my departure from the group and quest elsewhere for a time. I do not want to frighten my hosts during the full moon. Yet something very strange occurred. Just as I had thought to make my own departure, my hosts did so first. The two women and the three men stopped at a peak, muttered to themselves, and turned the other way. At first they tugged at me with insistent arms - and I might have followed them, only to notice the boy remained as he was. I had tried to ask about him, but they would not answer.
Finally one of the woman had merely shook her head sadly and declared, "Stay, and it is your giudizio as well"
I had asked her what this meant, but by then the adults had turned aside and the meaning was clear. I could choose to return with them, or stay with the boy. To face what, I do not know. But it was both my curiosity, and concern for the boy, which stayed me... and so here I find myself with him, facing into the maw of what I imagine is something terrible.
Quote from Indy on October 24, 2024, 10:15 amUnnamed Tasmanian Entry 5:
What can I say of the events that transpired? Both nothing, and everything, and indeed it seems I have either too little or too much ink to convey it with. As soon as I was truly, utterly alone with the boy, he spoke to me. It was as I suspected. Though he had an accent I might call something like 'Australian' with just a subtle trace of his mother tongue and a strange formality, he was well-versed in this language. His guardians had been using their language as a shield.
At first, he urged me to leave. And when I asked him why, he would not say. Yet as he continued walking, I could not help but follow. For indeed, I was far more concerned by his safety than mine. He did not seem to object either, or I would have honored his wishes.
As we climbed the peaks, he told me many things. He said he knew what I was, though he was not scared of it. When I asked if this was why his relatives had been so suspicious of me, he would not answer me; although by his expression, I surmised it was some other reason.
Many hours remained until the moon would rise, so indeed there was many hours by which to ask him as I wished. So indeed, I asked him why he would insist to make such a journey on this particular night of the year. This he did not answer either yet knelt to pick a flower by his feet. He twirled the bloom and handed it to me. To my surprise, it was quite a peculiar creation, which granted no smell and oozed a thick, milky sap from its stem.
"There are wolves and men in this world," he had told me surely, 'This I know. You are what you are, and I am what I am. But we are not separate..."
Mystified, I asked him of the flower. He did not deign to answer it. Instead, we continued in silence.
After an hour had passed, he asked me what it was I intended. I explained the nature of my research, and I was only curious to know more of the culture he came from - or indeed, the local wolf pack that might be in the area.
The boy's humor did not seem well for it as he grimaced to this. Yet he informed me where I might find them on the next island over. I asked him if he was scared of them and though he denied it, I could sense there was much he wouldn't tell me on them either. So, I dropped it.
Now precious hours remained before the moon. I asked him if he would like me to leave. To this he answered only "Not yet", before adding, "It is as you wish. I can have a companion if I want until only the final part"
Of course, he would not clarify further. So, I instead asked him of the animals that lived on this island, his age, and what he wanted. He informed me of some of the animals on the island with perfect detail, from the trilling cry the birds made (and its sound in his language) and the unusual maternal instincts a kind of rodent took to raise their young. He told me he was 12, but "not yet a man", and of course he would not clarify what that meant to him. He said he didn't know what he wanted. I thought that was a wise answer.
And so, he asked me of myself, and I as well told him of the place I had come from. To him I wonder if it seemed equally as alien and strange. He wanted to know how long I had been a werewolf, and I informed him it had been my entire life. I told him how once I had been so desperate to know more about a people I had come from. And now though I had met others of my own kind, I was hungry only to collect the information so it would not be lost forever. He seemed content with this answer. "Many things are lost," he had said, "It is hard to be the one that chooses what to save".
When we came to the highest portion of the mountains, he informed me this is where we must part ways. I expressed my concern for his safety, for indeed the moon was not far off. Yet he smiled and laughed, saying no wolf would dare come even as far as I had. I asked him once more what he must do at such cost to himself.
"What I have to, for my own people, as you do yours. I will be okay. I promise".
And that is how I left him. I write now as quickly as I can before the moon takes the dexterity of my fingers. Even now I wonder if I was wrong to leave him. Yet if I pursued him, I would make for a poor anthropologist indeed. Just as he could not be what I was, I couldn't be what he was... and yet I hope, after all that, we had become friends.
Unnamed Tasmanian Entry 5:
What can I say of the events that transpired? Both nothing, and everything, and indeed it seems I have either too little or too much ink to convey it with. As soon as I was truly, utterly alone with the boy, he spoke to me. It was as I suspected. Though he had an accent I might call something like 'Australian' with just a subtle trace of his mother tongue and a strange formality, he was well-versed in this language. His guardians had been using their language as a shield.
At first, he urged me to leave. And when I asked him why, he would not say. Yet as he continued walking, I could not help but follow. For indeed, I was far more concerned by his safety than mine. He did not seem to object either, or I would have honored his wishes.
As we climbed the peaks, he told me many things. He said he knew what I was, though he was not scared of it. When I asked if this was why his relatives had been so suspicious of me, he would not answer me; although by his expression, I surmised it was some other reason.
Many hours remained until the moon would rise, so indeed there was many hours by which to ask him as I wished. So indeed, I asked him why he would insist to make such a journey on this particular night of the year. This he did not answer either yet knelt to pick a flower by his feet. He twirled the bloom and handed it to me. To my surprise, it was quite a peculiar creation, which granted no smell and oozed a thick, milky sap from its stem.
"There are wolves and men in this world," he had told me surely, 'This I know. You are what you are, and I am what I am. But we are not separate..."
Mystified, I asked him of the flower. He did not deign to answer it. Instead, we continued in silence.
After an hour had passed, he asked me what it was I intended. I explained the nature of my research, and I was only curious to know more of the culture he came from - or indeed, the local wolf pack that might be in the area.
The boy's humor did not seem well for it as he grimaced to this. Yet he informed me where I might find them on the next island over. I asked him if he was scared of them and though he denied it, I could sense there was much he wouldn't tell me on them either. So, I dropped it.
Now precious hours remained before the moon. I asked him if he would like me to leave. To this he answered only "Not yet", before adding, "It is as you wish. I can have a companion if I want until only the final part"
Of course, he would not clarify further. So, I instead asked him of the animals that lived on this island, his age, and what he wanted. He informed me of some of the animals on the island with perfect detail, from the trilling cry the birds made (and its sound in his language) and the unusual maternal instincts a kind of rodent took to raise their young. He told me he was 12, but "not yet a man", and of course he would not clarify what that meant to him. He said he didn't know what he wanted. I thought that was a wise answer.
And so, he asked me of myself, and I as well told him of the place I had come from. To him I wonder if it seemed equally as alien and strange. He wanted to know how long I had been a werewolf, and I informed him it had been my entire life. I told him how once I had been so desperate to know more about a people I had come from. And now though I had met others of my own kind, I was hungry only to collect the information so it would not be lost forever. He seemed content with this answer. "Many things are lost," he had said, "It is hard to be the one that chooses what to save".
When we came to the highest portion of the mountains, he informed me this is where we must part ways. I expressed my concern for his safety, for indeed the moon was not far off. Yet he smiled and laughed, saying no wolf would dare come even as far as I had. I asked him once more what he must do at such cost to himself.
"What I have to, for my own people, as you do yours. I will be okay. I promise".
And that is how I left him. I write now as quickly as I can before the moon takes the dexterity of my fingers. Even now I wonder if I was wrong to leave him. Yet if I pursued him, I would make for a poor anthropologist indeed. Just as he could not be what I was, I couldn't be what he was... and yet I hope, after all that, we had become friends.
