#korvu

[vintagerpg]

Looking at the balance of the A Thousand Thousand Island zines (so far!) this week, starting with the sixth: Korvu (2020). I am sure a lot of creative work went into this, but once again, Zedeck Siew and Munkao make it look easy, as though Korvu is a real place they’re describing rather than one they have invented.

Korvu is complicated. Six months of the year, it is drowned, a settlement of rafts, where boats are people, where knight exchange their human heads for those of boat prows, where geese are pets like dogs and sometimes trouble can be found with fish sauce demons. During the dry season, though, the ocean waters recede and Korvu becomes a rice-farming island community, though a shaman must make the soil fertile first. This requires a ritual that pulls the salt from the ground and turns it into an entity called the Salt God, a kind of crystal octopus that is then driven into the sea before it can become dangerous. There is more, but I can’t reveal all the zine’s secrets.

Korvu is my favorite of the Thousand Thousand Islands, I think.

[mvries]

“ ¿qué haces ahí? ” / @korvu​.

se sobresalta un poquito al no alcanzar a reconocer voz masculina de inmediato, pero posición defensiva cae tan pronto se gira en su dirección. " me... escondo. " confiesa, porque se había quedado detrás de una pared, justo antes de girar una esquina.  "  ¿ves esa chica de allá? la del cabello rubio. " señala, bajito. " estaba siendo... bastante hostil. y no quiero enterarme si tiene algún elemento cortopunzante para ser más enfática. iba a ir por el otro lado, pero... me distraje. "

[inourei]

           con espalda apoyada sobre el tronco del árbol, pareciera haber conseguido un punto privilegiado del jardín, ni si quiera el caos del felino logró contaminar escenografía. qué suerte. claro, qué suerte. cuando la silueta tapó el sol, otorgándole sombra, supo que korain había hecho acto de presencia. iris se deslizaron para observarlo. ‘ kora, ’ porque no tenía intención en charlas ajenas a lo sucedido, ni dar vueltas innecesarias sobre la temática, la necesidad de ir al grano adelantaba su propio accionar. ‘ ¿qué piensas de todo esto? ’ @korvu​

[appvle]

" ven, ven conmigo. " / @korvu

tailandesa corría en dirección al llamado. sosteniendo bolso de primeros auxilios. con todo el caos dentro de la academia precisaba de este, detendiéndose cerquita de varón. aliento saliendo entrecortado como una extraña mezcla de temor e incredulidad. " ¿cómo estás? los demás. " las palabras fueron casi arrastradas, mostrándole lo que tanto se esforzó en buscar. " unos chicos venían detrás de mí, ellos tenían cuchillos. "

[zedecksiew]

Fish-Sauce Spirit

Sauce spirits dance in urns of anchovies and seaweed-salt and spice. Over the course of a year they transform these elements into an umber fluid of complex umami and intense odour.

Be careful! The smell will bowl you over.

The saucier leans over the mouth of an urn. She is listening to her spirits. This year, they tell her, they would like to be fed:

1: Sea grapes, from the mer-king’s private kelpyard. 2: A pint of blood from a child, not yet two years old.   3: Glowing mangosteens, from a forest-god’s grove. 4: A pot of sorghum wine, rescued from a shipwreck. 5: Tamarind paste, flavoured with a daughter’s tears.  6: A garland of flowers, fresh from a knight’s funeral. 7: Glutinous-rice cakes, made by a mountain hermit. 8: A banana heart, cut from a haunted banana plant. 9: Hairs plucked from the Monkey King’s sacred pate. 10: A scroll of ancient scripture, burnt into a fine ash.

The resulting sauce cannot be described in mere words. Kings will war to have its flavour at their dinner table.

+

FISH-SAUCE DEMON

Anchovy souls are hungry ghosts. Sometimes a sauce spirit stumbles -- and is eaten. Thus is a demon born.

The urn shatters. A living tide of putrefying fry sweeps the deck. Smashes the other pots, swallows the saucier. It wants to taste your flavour. Every flavour!

It bites with a million tiny teeth. It may:

1: Gleam, invitingly. You cannot help yourself; you move closer.  2: Leap. Jumping down your throat it will wear you as a puppet. 3: Throw pseudopods. Its touch strips paint, and skin, and flesh.  4: Ooze, slow as molasses. So sticky, a bear could not get free.   5: Wobble like jelly. Its stench punches you with physical weight.  6: Shiver in frustration. All prepared foods spoil in its presence. 7: Spurt at your face. Its stink stains your spirit with terrible luck. 8: Whip tentacles about. These slice wood and bone and steel. 9: Slip into a body of water. Reappears on any connected shore. 10: Ripple, mesmerisingly. Meat you’ve eaten today reanimates.

It learns more of these things, with every living creature it tastes. All it eats it adds to itself.

+

(Art by Mun Kao.)

[mvries]

“ ¿quieres que te tome una foto? ” / @korvu​ & @inourei​ & @hcngyeol​.

“ primero dime ” se acerca a una de las muchas flores que decoran el camino y se ubica de tal forma que puede señalar primero una de ellas y luego enmarcar su rostro con sus propias manos: “ ¿cuál es más bonita? ” sonríe, pero rápidamente gesto se ensancha hasta convertirse en una carcajada. “ ya, toma la foto. ” le apura, y eleva una de sus manos en signo de paz para acompañar la fotografía.

[mvries]

“ te ves bien. ” / @korvu​.

“ nunca vas a parar, ¿cierto? ” ríe, mientras detalla atuendo y apariencia en general del contrario, quien parece sacado de una revista, o tal vez de uno de los sueños de la marie más joven, esa que se preguntó por más o menos un año si lo suyo sería rebelarse ( luego concluyó que no ). “ aunque tus cumplidos suelen ser mejores, acaso eres un sloppy drunk? ” bromea, y tiene que frenarse a si misma de trazar con los dedos los corazoncitos que lleva pintados en el rostro. “ ¿tú te maquillaste a ti mismo? ”

[zedecksiew]

Wang Hansa Bets Against The Sea

WANG HANSA LAUGHS AT THE SEA

Wang Hansa was the son of a falling star. He was very boastful, and thought himself the strongest man born.

“As a babe I ate the demon Sri Sana!” said he. “As a child I raced the eagle and won! As a youth I held my breath for a hundred days, to capture the Lake Fairy’s heart -- capturing also the right to rule Korvu!”

Such words annoyed the sea. She has always disliked upstarts. She visited Wang Hansa’s court one night, saying:

“O king, mighty may you be. But humility is virtue. Some deeds are beyond you. Not even you could touch my love the moon.”

Wang Hansa knew how the sea yearned for the moon. He had seen how she reached for her lover every tide, in vain. So he replied: “I accept this challenge, o sea! I also set a wager! If I should steal from the moon, proving you wrong, you must give me your kingdom, free and forever!”

To which the sea asked: “And if I steal from my love the moon? What then? Will your kingdom be similarly mine to own?”

“A contest! Let’s see who brings back the bigger piece!” said Wang Hansa, already beating his chest, assured in victory, laughing so hard it rattled his throne room. +

WANG HANSA PINCHES THE MOON

With one leap Wang Hansa crossed the sky, a streaming star, landing on the moon. There he plucked meat from the moon’s cheek.

This he threw into the sea. It crashed as a meteor, creating many storms. Nursed in the sea’s womb, the meteor began to grow. Over time it grew as living stone into all the coral reefs we now know. Meanwhile Wang Hansa returned to earth, and said: “I have stolen flesh from the moon’s face! See its cheek? How could you match my feat?”

The sea was silent, but pointed at the waves of her belly, which by now were becalmed. In that mirrored surface a shape appeared: round, luminous, scarred by Wang Hansa’s hand -- the very moon itself.

“I have stolen my love the moon in her entirety,” said the sea.

And the moon spoke from her reflection: “Yes, she has me.”

Because the moon loved the sea in return, and also she dislikes upstarts, and was angry at Wang Hansa for her most recent injury. She would give him no face, despite all his yelling and begging.

Thus did Wang Hansa lose his bet, and learn to stop being so boastful. And ever since the kings of Korvu have been vassals of the sea.

+++ (This is a founding myth by way of a Zen saying, but it also managed to become a love story? Love stories always seem to find a way.)

( Image source: Elizabeth Presa, “Moon Water”, http://elizabethpresa.com/?p=47 )