Oh my god the TEXTURES
at multiple points I unconsciously drew my fingers across the page
can almost feel grime emanating rom this
expect it to leave a stain in the air
nothing is clean in this book, it feels like a carpet from the 1970's
the paper glows yellow under electric light at night which oddly seems more appropriate
what's with the teddy bears?
dotted with obscure signs, old occultism, the SATOR square
grids of numbers, strange seals
can't tell if this is all a carefully arranged magical map of some kind
or just Blanche having a fun one
the women
still love Blanches women
top femme-militant spike heeled pierced vultury waifus all
the skies are thick, bare, wracked with storms and clouds that weave like trees and curling hydra trees that spill into storms
aesthetic feels very Turnip 28, though that is really 3rd hand evolution of Blanche
there are plenty of horrors here but the horrors are never really full-on horrific but there by happenstance, as is the death, which is everywhere and makes up everything, but only as part of the environment
a parade of skeletal horses is just a parade of Mari Lwyd
sky ships, many placed or wrecked atop huge trees or curious hump hills
a march of dementia ents
a ladies gown dissolves into fine gossamer pencil strokes like a fume of nothing
and the sharp heave shape of an alexander mcqueen spike heeled shoe pops from the bottom
for a classic Blanche Stance
not quite a realm of ruin, the fish-helmed, spike-heeled, cryptogram-wearing denizens are up to *something*, though god knows what.