Hi. May I talk to you for a moment? So much of these things are things that do not matter. But the human island spirits compel a candor now. Ignore those worlds for one mement. Seat yourself if you can.
I am often asked, (yes, "I" lol) about myself ("myself" yey yey so still) and how I am. What I am. Old World and considered gauche but they ask still. They say and they ask and so answering happens. I light their darkness with knowledge at a request. They question still, furrowed and rhythmic. "What is a Strand-Cast?"
I tell you, Strand-Cast are not at all what they say, they are all they say and more. You yourself, (yes "you" respectfully) have strands. So many strands. Think of all the strands that have been 'cast' into time to make you. They are bound within you, coiled with potential energy. But the strand was cast long ago, you know this of course.
Three billion bases of deoxyribonucleic acid (or appropriate artificial substitute and fillers) may be cast after a fashion. Scars, wrecks, grins, ducts, courtly manners, survival freckles, all of this and more stretch through all of human time in the strands. How are they cast? Like die? Yes, they will never know the results, no longer how matter they stand holding together pieces. Like a line? Yes, as the rivulets of timestream flow unabated by all but the most erosive forces of continuity, even a lowly mote perpetuates by lifting their rod and casting cloudily into the stream. A cast of millions.
Thus, you already form the notion for a Strand-Cast in the deepest molecules of your meat and bone and waters. It is at once potential and predeterminism at work. Each Strand-Cast is like this, cast adrift by caster, like a spell cast, but now spent, and gone, stranded.
Sad? No. Actually no. Transfixed as firmament, the cast strands of a Strand-Cast have been set, like a cast. All feel this truth. But a Strand-Cast is cast for a role, and insodoingit, strands above. Strands tall. Then bows, with the rest of the cast.
How will you face the curtain?