— ilya kusato {{ d9m.

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

 

 ILYA KUSATO

district nine
eighteen
virgo sun - scorpio moon
historian

“ knowledge always has the potential to be dangerous. it is a more powerful weapon than any sword or spell. ”

— sorcery of thorns, margaret rogerson.

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

                                    ― candlekeep's oath.

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

• Ilya. It means 'Strength of God', and it was a name given by a stranger he never saw after two days.
• Before the war, there were no borders. But somewhere during the after and as said borders came to divide, they ripped families away. His first words were not ‘mama’ or ‘papa’—they were ‘배고픈.’ Hungry.
• Childhood: a patchwork of sunken-faced ‘omma’s, yellow sticky rice with coconut shavings, and nights spent hiding in alleyways from distant gunfire. He remembers playing shadow puppet from the light of a candle on its last wick as the house they were in trembled and sagged under its own age. The cat shape, needing skillful fingers, was his most beloved.
• Candlelight illuminated his years. And if it weren’t for it, he would have never learnt how to read. And if he never learnt how to read, he would have never learnt how to write. And if he never learnt how to write, what is he? Writing is what he holds close like an amulet, a secret cipher that unlocked another world. His world
• The first book he read was a picture book, loosened at the seams and caked in dust. It was about fox spirits called the 'キツネ' Kitsune, and how they used cleverness above everything else to achieve their whims. The book never truly parted from him.
• He doesn’t have a mother tongue. Instead, his tongue is sewn together by five languages that he collected like souvenirs. Hello. 안녕하세요. こんにちは. 你好. Привет. Each language has its own cadence, its own charm. But he will never know their true textures, the way they’d sound on his parents’ tongues as they cradled him. A language, after all, goes beyond words. A language raises you. His own abandoned him.
• They brought him to the nomads because they knew he could read, and better yet, they knew he could tell stories. He’d soak up tales from old spinsters, mourning housewives, and then retell them with a new layer of majesty. He got the name ‘Kusato’ because of that. History-teller.
• And soon, he became a member of Candlekeep, a group of scholarly nomads and historians and archivists. They wrote books that detailed cultures, food recipes, languages, poetry, and everything else the war has stolen from them in one way or another. Their saying: history is a living thing, and it must be kept that way.
• He never knew his history, and so from that comes the earnest longing to record it. Storyteller, historian, archivist, Ilya would keep history alive and living at any cost, with hopes of unearthing his own one day.
• "Ilya Kusato!" He doesn't waver. He climbs up the stairs to the podium with the languid gait of a composed scholar. No one knows the things someone would do to keep themselves from being forgotten.
• He would find his own history, or carve it into the flesh of the world.

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

L△LIA

[L△LIA]

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