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Lithe fingers sat pressed against my forehead longer than I care to admit. Maybe this was an attempt to caress the corners of my mind that hadn’t been touched in over 2 long years, a slow evisceration to draw out some palatable scrap. Perhaps. . .
You’ll need to forgive my tardiness. I have long held that an introduction, if intended to be done well, takes time—first impressions taken into consideration and all. Yet, I admit that I’ve never been fond of overextending such pleasantries. Simply stated, it isn’t my way of doing things, and yet for the sake of etiquette I will oblige. Where shall I begin?
As a new century dawned, now more than twenty years ago, so began my legacy as a writer and roleplayer. In this other age, I answered to another name in another place, both of which are so deeply tucked into the drawers of my memory that I rarely stop to open them. Today we will consider it as a point of origin and think nothing more of it, for since then I have evolved so completely that to think back on it is like trying to access the mind of a past incarnation, which serves no real purpose other than to say “I was there.”
Grim is the title that has affixed itself to me. I mean that in the sense that it’s a name that has not been chosen so much as it has settled upon me. Consider how an early winter’s frost settles slowly upon a windowpane in the course of small hours before taking it over so completely that no glass remains uncovered; it is similar in that way. Do not mistake what I am saying; I confess a genuine fondness for the exchange, and there exists no such urge to reclaim what was traded away.
I am told that I have a talent for stillness, and my demeanor is often misconstrued as apathy or coldness, a distance in the prose some may read as a chill clean through. I will do little to correct the person too impatient to look twice. But here, just this once, I will argue that beneath the formality, I am attentive. Attentive in the way that an old staircase is attentive to the person who avoids a particular creaky step, or perhaps akin to a locked door that has a firm opinion about the person attempting the doorhandle. Very little escapes me.
As for my affections, they primarily settle on the genres of horror and fantasy, upon old Gothic and Victorian temperament, and anything willing to honestly reckon with the darkness or the dead. I find these things fashionably more interesting than anything the present or the living generally has to offer. I write at considerable length when the occasion allows for it. Typically, I produce 3 or more paragraphs, but afford a novella for those rare and deserving moments that demand it. Though I am no tyrant about the matter; this art bends best to whomever stands opposite you, and I have never subscribed to the notion that good collaboration ought to march at a single, unyielding pace.
I confess that, even as of this day, my writing endeavors are not confined to this platform. Alongside a mind whose darkness rivals my own, my love FoxyMystique and I run a group on IMVU and what has prospered there, I hold in genuine regard. However, my errands there are not what bring me to the doorstep of the Inner Sanctum, in fact it is of little consideration. Instead, I have come today, plainly said, to meet those who are unfamiliar to me. To engage with other artistic talents who are willing to interact, and discover what unmapped shadows might be worth exploring.
I cannot offer a promise of comfort in my company. But rather, I will extend to those whose attention I may have caught this message: “Whatever unravels here shall be met with considerable interest and no small measure of patience. Of the latter, I have an inexhaustible supply for the dead have taught me little else so thoroughly.”
Yours in rot and ruin,
Grim
You’ll need to forgive my tardiness. I have long held that an introduction, if intended to be done well, takes time—first impressions taken into consideration and all. Yet, I admit that I’ve never been fond of overextending such pleasantries. Simply stated, it isn’t my way of doing things, and yet for the sake of etiquette I will oblige. Where shall I begin?
As a new century dawned, now more than twenty years ago, so began my legacy as a writer and roleplayer. In this other age, I answered to another name in another place, both of which are so deeply tucked into the drawers of my memory that I rarely stop to open them. Today we will consider it as a point of origin and think nothing more of it, for since then I have evolved so completely that to think back on it is like trying to access the mind of a past incarnation, which serves no real purpose other than to say “I was there.”
Grim is the title that has affixed itself to me. I mean that in the sense that it’s a name that has not been chosen so much as it has settled upon me. Consider how an early winter’s frost settles slowly upon a windowpane in the course of small hours before taking it over so completely that no glass remains uncovered; it is similar in that way. Do not mistake what I am saying; I confess a genuine fondness for the exchange, and there exists no such urge to reclaim what was traded away.
I am told that I have a talent for stillness, and my demeanor is often misconstrued as apathy or coldness, a distance in the prose some may read as a chill clean through. I will do little to correct the person too impatient to look twice. But here, just this once, I will argue that beneath the formality, I am attentive. Attentive in the way that an old staircase is attentive to the person who avoids a particular creaky step, or perhaps akin to a locked door that has a firm opinion about the person attempting the doorhandle. Very little escapes me.
As for my affections, they primarily settle on the genres of horror and fantasy, upon old Gothic and Victorian temperament, and anything willing to honestly reckon with the darkness or the dead. I find these things fashionably more interesting than anything the present or the living generally has to offer. I write at considerable length when the occasion allows for it. Typically, I produce 3 or more paragraphs, but afford a novella for those rare and deserving moments that demand it. Though I am no tyrant about the matter; this art bends best to whomever stands opposite you, and I have never subscribed to the notion that good collaboration ought to march at a single, unyielding pace.
I confess that, even as of this day, my writing endeavors are not confined to this platform. Alongside a mind whose darkness rivals my own, my love FoxyMystique and I run a group on IMVU and what has prospered there, I hold in genuine regard. However, my errands there are not what bring me to the doorstep of the Inner Sanctum, in fact it is of little consideration. Instead, I have come today, plainly said, to meet those who are unfamiliar to me. To engage with other artistic talents who are willing to interact, and discover what unmapped shadows might be worth exploring.
I cannot offer a promise of comfort in my company. But rather, I will extend to those whose attention I may have caught this message: “Whatever unravels here shall be met with considerable interest and no small measure of patience. Of the latter, I have an inexhaustible supply for the dead have taught me little else so thoroughly.”
Yours in rot and ruin,
Grim
