CODEX MANONAE - vol. ii

[esotericas 1558]

CODEX MANONAE

VOL. II

 

---

A STORY ABOUT HOW THE WORLD CAME TO BE

 

Manon crafts her tale.

 

 

---

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

CODEX MANONAE, VOL II

BEING, BY NATURE OF ITS NAME AND ITS WRITING, A TALE OF HOW THE WORLD (OR PERHAPS, A WORLD) CAME TO BE.

 

-=✺=-

 

PART I

THE WEAVING OF THE WORLD

 

In the beginning, there was darkness. The world and the worlds that lived alongside it had not yet even been conceived of, as in all the great deep emptiness, there was nothing capable of conceiving of anything, let alone something so complicated as an entire world. The great darkness was blacker than blackness, blacker than coal and night and ink and stone. For a long time, the nothing remained as nothing. 

 

Eventually, though, the nothingness found itself growing rather bored. There was nothing to do in this unending emptiness. The nothingness had nothing but itself with which to entertain, and so the nothingness twisted and wrapped about itself, slithering and tangling until it had stretched out into a thin piece of string, as long as longness and as thin as hair.

 

The string, pleased with its new shape, twisted itself about once more. It tangled into a knot, and then another knot on top of that one, and another and another, and after a while the string began to weave. It started simple, crafting a flat piece of black fabric. Then another piece, linked to the first, which it wove into an arc above the first piece. 

 

These first two pieces of fabric were the soil and the sky. 

 

The nothingness went on weaving things, until it realised that, truly, it wasn’t nothingness anymore, because it had created a whole world of somethings. Soft, rolling hills, an arch of a sky, tiny woven forests. Those were all somethings. And so the nothingness decided to name itself le Fil du Monde, the World-Thread. 

 

After days and nights and more days of endless weaving, le Fil grew tired. Weaving was hard work, and there was no light at all to work by, so le Fil was always getting tangled up in itself. The World-Thread stopped to think about this for a while, tangling itself and untangling itself into knots on knots on knots. Eventually, however, le Fil looked down upon itself, and realised that it had grown too tangled, and every tug just tightened and tightened and tightened the knot. 

 

Panicked, le Fil pulled harder and harder - dragging itself through its woven landscape, until, with a ping! the knot snapped off. Before le Fil had time to look or think or do anything at all, the knot began to glow. It had been pulled so miraculously tight that the infinite blackness of le Fil had turned in on itself, and the knot began to glow a bright, painful white.

 

The woven world was shot into a brilliant light, and le Fil looked around at its masterpiece. The blackness, see, wasn’t blackness at all. The World-Thread was as many different colours as one could imagine. More, even. The cloth hills were a deep hearty brown, the forests a vibrant green, and the sky a pale, dusty blue.

 

At the sight of this world - the world le Fil had woven, it realised just how empty it still felt. Even with the trees and the hills and the sky, the world was not much of a world. But le Fil simply didn’t have the energy to fill the entire place, so instead it decided to make itself some helpers. Three would suffice. 

 

Since the knot had broken off, one end of le Fil was separated from the other. It took the back end up in a loop of thread, and wove three chords. The three chords became three bodies, which became three women with long hair and dresses and skinny hands. Le Fil named these three women the Tisserands - the Weavers, for they would be its assistants in creating the rest of the world.

 

Spoiler

 

[slattador 511]

Mathilde, Manon's mother- had perused every word her child had jotted down in awe, lips merely falling agape at the girl's articulation in her writing. "Oh Manon, how talented you are." Remarked the flaxen-haired mother in a nurturing speech from her office in the Castle Stassion.