Jun 23
thinking something about annatar as a creation of sauron’s, crafted and tested and prototyped like any other work. cyborg annatar, if you will—a piece pulled from here, a piece from there; smile and arms not his own, eyes from an earlier model. his body is perfect and not quite right because being annatar is not quite right. he is every dead dissected thrall and in angband there are neatly numbered files of notes and sketches for his hair, his teeth, how he would walk, the exact cadence of his voice. a thousand calculations and years of blood went into the curve of his cheek; even his imperfections are precise, minute, terrible: at once the machine and the ghost living in it.
