My friend, HeavenlyEros, made this fabulous poster for TTSS! Eros also helped me create the cover for it, and performed many other feats of great art and friendship, some of which I mentioned before. The Mass Effect fandom is truly blessed to inspire such talented, devoted and kind creators — and so am I, to have such friends. ♥
Stepping back into the shrunken Mass Effect fandom, in which the Saren/Nihlus ship has always been a niche that is now kept afloat by literally a handful of unrelenting enthusiasts, I did not expect to find a new friend and creative ally (Sixtus), let alone two!
HeavenlyEros descended among us just as I came back from the summer hiatus and stirred the sleepy turian community into a state of cheerful excitement by showering us with art of unearthly beauty.
I just can’t get over this image. It’s been sitting in one of my browser tabs for days and I’ve already showed it to all my friends (pardon me if you get this message more than once etc., etc.), yet I still haven’t had enough of it. So enter the records, it shall.
It’s weird, right? Like someone took a regular space photo and then painted that spiral over it — badly! Or like one of those mesmerizing examples of neural style transfer or creepy AI-generated art.
What it actually is, is a binary system where one of the stars has started to eject its envelopes at the end of its life, while the other still circles it, leaving a spiral trail in the outflowing gas. The regular gaps between the trails correspond to the 800-year orbital period of the binary.
My friend Gladius created this phenomenal illustration for the Virmire chapters of Ghost in the Machine. The joy of seeing an offscreen moment such as this, that would otherwise exist only as a vague idea in my imagination, would be hard to overstate. Perhaps more importantly, this is hugely motivating and invigorating as a token of interest. I am honored and deeply grateful.
I wish I were a little bird That out of sight doth soar, I wish I were a song once heard But often pondered o’er, Or shadow of a lily stirred By wind upon the floor, Or echo of a loving word Worth all that went before, Or memory of a hope deferred That springs again no more.