lordess of the obvious

These days I sometimes find myself going, "Whoa, people on TDF have daemons!"

At a glance this is a very strange thing to be surprised by. It's The Daemon Forum. Of course there are going to be daemons oozing out of metaphorical pores.

Nonetheless, gone are the days when I could - and, embarrassingly, did - write a list of most members, their daemon's names, and their associated forms. There are several reasons for this. One, there are now well over a hundred members and my memory has its limits. Two, I don't frequent the forum nearly as much as I used to, so I can barely remember the names of members in general, let alone all the other details. Three, daemonism has become such a second-nature thing for me that I don't spend time observing other people's workings with so curiously keen an eye. And four, human-daemon anecdotes aren't as big a part of the community as they used to be. It just ain't talked about as much.

It's a touch regretful, in a way; silly as it could sometimes be, the level engagement and sharing that existed in TDF's days of yore made daemonism a particularly vivid experience. I heard and knew about the daemons themselves - not just what form they were taking or what witty quip they had imparted that morning, but whether they were more inclined towards comfort or blunt snark, shied away from touch or embraced the defiance of physics, always sided with honest reason or always sided with the person.

That said, things change, and while it might be for the worse in some areas, it's certainly been for better in others. Startling myself with the realisation that oh yeah, people still have these depths of relationships is not so dastardly a thing when it means those relationships are indeed still there.

(I also occasionally go, "Oh man, my daemon's name is Killy." Kilmaeyon is genuinely kind of nice. Killy was whipped up on a hurried whim and sounds like something you'd name a fluffy puppy with a knife in its teeth. 'Course, can either of us be arsed changing it? Nnnnope.)

buzz of static

It's a little funny. I am constantly under the impression that Killy and I don't talk very often any more - and, in a way, I'm not wrong. Those deep, serious conversations we used to have crop up very rarely these days, and there's no real need to talk about forms, or visualisation, or clarity of speech, or any of those little inner relationship features we used to muse on as two.

At the same time, however, we almost speak more frequently because of it; it just happens so quietly and easily that it doesn't quite register in my uppermost consciousness. I don't bother to deliberately have A Conversation with my daemon - but if I pause and think about it, I can pick out dozens of short exchanges scattered throughout a single day.

"Absolutely perfect, if I do say so myself."
"And you do, don't you."
"Oh, I so do."

Nothing profound. Nothing that will assist me in a deep and meaningful way as I wander my worldly trails. (Something that was in fact referencing toast.) Just evidence that the flow of mental dialogue has become thoroughly, and possibly permanently, ingrained.

doppelgangers

Corporeality has never been of huge concern to either my daemon or myself - I could dig up a forum post made several years back in which Killy presented a rare speech that effectively said he was incorporeal because he was meant to be incorporeal, so lusting after some sort of physical presence would not just be lusting after corporeality, but a whole different system of operating. That's not to say I've never considered what it would be like, given that such musings can be a lot of fun. I've just never felt a great deal of grief over the way things are.

However, I recently realised that when wistfulness does rear its head, it's usually in consideration of how it would affect the way people perceive me. This seems a bit odd as, although I'm not the most secretive person I know, I do tend to be a bit touchy about who knows what, and perhaps I wouldn't be as prone to these grumblings if my settled form was that of a teeny tiny ladybug.

As it is, my settled form is a predator of reasonable size, and it's easy to imagine the ways that could come in handy. Many a night of wandering down dark paths after a late lecture at university has seemed like it would be less nerve-wracking if there was a solid presence at my side with a mouthful of teeth. Confronting a misbehaving child seems like it would be simpler if my daemon were able to calmly sit on theirs. Flattened ears and a low growl would be a better indicator of genuine anger than my own flustered prattlings.

Of course there are flaws to these notions as well, and they never will be anything more than idle thoughts. Some might even wish to ask that if my inner self is so inherently threatening, how come I can't express that myself? To that I ruefully point out that mouthful of teeth or not, coyotes are nervous little scrappers. The only reason my offsider would enhance my supposed intimidation factor at all is that it would be 'operated' by the part of me that is composed, confident, and not inclined to take crap - namely, Killy.

a rose by any other name would be a tulip

I'm not sure why it has taken me so long to realise this, but it occurred to me recently that my primary pseudonym - Winger - and my daemon's name - Kilmaeyon - came about in a similar way. Both were adapted from/inspired by a fictional source, both were originally intended to be applied to characters of my own creation, and both were later snatched up when I suddenly found myself in need of a name for the new little voice in my mind and a less stalkable identity.

If I ever doubted the opportunistic scavenger aspect...

it might have been parasitic

Me: Argh, the bread has mould! And I already ate a slice of it!
Killy: I'm sure the folk who would consider themselves fortunate to have an entire loaf of slightly mouldy bread at their disposal really feel for you right now.
Me: Did you really just whip out the 'there are starving kids in Africa' line?
Killy: *straightface*
Me: ...fine, alright, you have a point.
Killy: :)
Me: I'm still not eating the bread.
Killy: *STRAIGHTFACE*

So I guess, deep down, I am a very socially conscious person. It's just a shame all my shallow top-levels keep getting in the way.

The Confetti is Soggy Now

Oh, right - five years of daemonism as of last Wednesday.

I'm good at anniversaries.

Just Like Magic

Back when Jim first arrived, the abruptness of the whole affair left us both somewhat rattled. For some reason, I reacted to this by doing a lot of nervous chattering, which probably didn't help the situation all that much, but...well, neither of us were winning points for supreme eloquence. At one point, this exchange occurred:

Me: So I guess I'm sort of attracted to- uh, I mean, not physically attracted 'cause, no offense, but you're kinda old-
Jim: [indignant] I'm thirty-five!

At the time I took him at his word but never paid all that much attention to the information because I certainly didn't know what age the character was in canon. That was that until recently, when I remembered this talk and became curious enough to actually look the dates up. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the actor who plays Jim in the show he is sourced from - in effect, the man who is the exact physical double of him - would have indeed been thirty-five when we had that exchange.

It's almost as cool as the Charleston thing.