remnantworld text hub

WHAT WAS WRITTEN MUST BE KNOWN

2026-04-06T15:09:15Z

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what do you do when you have to eat your friends?

2026-03-21T20:13:09Z

originally this was going to be a whole thing. a whole exploration on the complexity of syzygy and what happens when loz and kadaj and i do weird remnant things and absorb people into the mist of our bodies. then we couldn't think of anything at all, besides the sadness.

we're made of memory. "we" as in everyone ever, i think, but also "we" as in the three of us, in a very specific way. we live and breathe this memory and when things get tough we go after others'. and because we can't exactly devour the full memory-form of someone beyond our pocket of the universe, we turn to those inside. usually, it's not a big deal. but sometimes, those people are friends. sometimes, they're people who have been with us for a decade or more. and then the guilt sets in.

i don't think i realized how much this affected me until literally 24 hours ago. i had always known i had feelings about "about", the girl i was for ten years leading up to this. but when discussing another member of syzygy -- dree -- i had a full breakdown in a way i don't think i ever have before. i became angry at the idea of him being "brainmade", some kind of lost part of a wider whole that required fixing. something inherently different from us "introjects", which is its own terrible word. all these words that inflict on him same kind of nonsense we have had inflicted on us time and time again. the implication that dree's absorption was something good, a sign of healing, instead of just something sad that happened that we are allowed to feel fucking sad about. i realized that dree was such a staple in loz and about's life -- in my life -- and loz's absorption of him made sense in a sort of terrible, hilarious way. like, of course. of course the boy i was closest with for the formative years of my life would become part of the memory-body of my twin.

so instead of writing a real essay, i wrote letters. enough preamble.

from yazoo, to dree:

first off, thank you. you were the very first person to treat me as me, at least, as i believed i was. it doesn't matter. i don't mind that i was someone else for our time together. i don't mind that i don't remember much about you because the feelings are still there. i know you were a kind, beautiful soul, and i'm happy to have been able to know you for so long. i see you sometimes, in loz. i don't know how, outside of the knowledge that he absorbed you, but there's something. something about the way his walk has changed, and the way he makes peoples' heads turn when he laughs.

i don't make friends easily. i don't love even moreso. but i think i did -- do -- love you. i consider you an important part of my becoming, even if you accidentally walked in on it happening. you were the first to see me as yazoo, and despite your confusion, your kindness showed first and foremost in how you led me to the center of the world to get help from the others. loz told me that a therapist referred to you as an "angry, vengeful part". i don't remember that. maybe you were. all of my memory-feelings involve joy. joy and music. we tell the story all the time -- the one of you, me, and loz going to that record store. its my clearest, most beloved memory of "back then". i cherish it. i think i will until i die.

you were my friend. not a symptom, not a side effect of trauma, not a tool for understanding a world full of senseless violence. you were a person first and foremost. kadaj says you might be part of our birds now. if you are, i hope your flights are easy and the wind is always at your back.

from yazoo, to about:

hello. this is strange.
i know your name not because i "remember" it, but because i know the music that precedes it. this seems to be a pattern.

you are what i was before i was me. a girl made for a story, that eventually comes to life. you were part of a trio, too, you know. a trio of albums, of characters.
this is hard, because something about our "relationship" makes it difficult for me to talk about you. but i want to thank you, too, anyways. for being me before i was brave enough to do it myself.
i don't think of you as a body that once housed my True Soul-self. i don't know if i see you as the childhood version of me, either. but whatever happened, whatever it all means, i'm here now. and i say your name because your memory is as important to my body as any other. i love that your name is just a word. because until the english language itself evolves or dissipates, everyone who speaks it will at some point say you. about. about.

i made this playlist for you. it's a measly thing, only seven songs. i cried while organizing it to our particular tastes. music from the albums you named yourself after, the ones that stick with me to this day. i hope it's enough. one day i'll make a real tape for you. full of texture and breathy synths and music boxes and seemingly-nonsense lyrics and all those things we like.

for you

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noematapedia: the gist of it

2026-03-11T23:17:53Z

(crossposted from the syzygy website)

in the beginning...

be advised -- this entry and all following ones in our noematapedia contain potentially triggering content. this includes:

child abuse and neglect
medical trauma
violence -- particularly drowning, stabbing, and gun violence
near-death experiences
mentions of drug use
completed suicide

please take care.

this entry will cover stuff that occurs during/relating to the events of Advent Children Complete, specifically

( read more...? )

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spaces between

2026-03-11T22:39:05Z

hum hum hum. been thinking about bodies and lack-thereof.

the syzygy-body is not something i feel is impossible to reach anymore, it just isn't anything i'm particularly interested in, beyond a few specific experiences. i'm always with loz, who's almost always behind the eyes. i find great joy in noticing when xe's overwhelmed with the weight of the world. i know just when to catch her off guard, take it by the (metaphysical) hand to drag it away to be with us space-time freaks. rest in the clearing, braid my gravity-protesting hair, play with the infinitely spawning birds, build towers and knock them back down.

at the end of the day, the syzygy-body is a container. i care about it, deeply. pretty much everything i know is currently tied to its presence. if absolutely necessary, i'd jump the barrier to protect it and everyone involved. but for now, it's far more fun to explore the strangeness that happens when i am near enough to affect it but not enough to control. dissociation has gotten a bad rap, i think. there's nothing more interesting to me than being "blurry" with loz while he -- barely conscious himself -- cuts and pastes PNGs at my psychic command. it feels good to leave behind the boundaries of self-and-other when kadaj notices my struggle to remain a Being at all, and joins in the Nothing with me, instead of trying to fix anything about me. or, when it is troubling, they both scramble to offer memories and emotion and sensation that i can't seem to find. and it's not about "me", exactly. at least not the same "me" that was there before. i build up a new skin and a new form from what they offer, and i come back, still yazoo, just fresh and weird and wobbly.

i was born two days ago. i'll probably be born again next week. i'm nothing. i'm everything. i wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

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elden ring anniversary rambling

2026-02-26T17:30:34Z

too impatient to wait for june 20^th… here’s some reflection.

( read more...? )

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remedies for remnants, thoughtforms, and other yet-tangible beings -- part one: names and shapes

2026-02-19T16:39:33Z

As Per Our Prior Entries, we've been having a difficult time with a certain entity (that we have been calling a few different names), its desire to keep kadaj from leaving the private headspace and entering the tangible world, and its method of doing so by subjecting myself to rounds of self loathing, exhaustion, and doubt.

this specific "version" of the entity i have been calling The Dissolutor, as the way it has attacked me recently and in the past has been in the shape of people, places, things and systems that attempt to dissolve my sense of self until i am silent, palatable, and repressed enough to play the role given to me by many grander Narratives -- the tool, the servant, the obstacle for the "real characters" of the world. The Dissolutor operates as a sort of "arbiter of fate", though in a more insidious, inter/personal or cultural manner than the reality-bending entities found in the remakes. it is sneaky as fuck, and appears not only in the headspace, but in other ways, such as through the systemic erasure of our names, the lack of/repression of images that reflect who we all are, and a chronic feeling of depersonaliztion and "unreal"ness. the following screed will get into what this means for us and how we've been fighting back.

( read more...? )

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new concise intro !!

2026-02-19T05:40:05Z

hi! i'm loz! this is where my siblings and i post our longer, more thought out pieces.

here you'll find discussions of our relationships to fiction, to each other, and the wild world(s) we find ourselves in.

currently, my sister and brother communicate to me through speech(and sometimes weird mind games), and i translate for them.

loz, any/x/it/that (voice:loz) timeweird adult
yazoo, she/her (voice:yaz) also timeweird adult
kadaj, he/it (voice:daj) ageslider, usually on the older teen/young adult side while Posting

other than writing up our silliness, we like to read, draw, and play video games! yazoo has a blog where she collects images and words she likes, and kadaj is quite the artist and orator when the mood catches it.

thank you for stopping by!!! hope to see you around ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

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call 2

2026-02-13T23:00:49Z

we are not against the planet -- we are against all that would seek our obliteration

we are not against humanity -- we are against the leviathan that takes and takes and gives nothing of itself in return

we are not against the individual -- we are against the systems that uplift the individual at the cost of the many(bodies&minds)

the earth spins in a maddening dance, and though we lag behind, we want to join in with everyone else -- we try as best we can

yet time and time again we are left in the mud, the dust, the concrete and steel

we accept our place as the mirror-film; we are outside looking inward; we love this world, and the friendly company herein

but such love requires refusing and destroying that which refuses and destroys us...

... and it's more than likely our enemies are yours, as well!

if this is the case

if you find yourself drawn to these words, to the images of those who speak them, to the noises composed for the space behind it all

if you feel your heart stirring...

...then this reunion is for you!

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little updates

2026-02-13T01:12:36Z

hello! still a bit in the trenches, but i've been working on some stuff and there's been a few new things happening in remnantworld

first off: yazoo has a blog now! she got (understandably) tired of using my tumblr for image retrieval. to keep her active in the world without fully relinquishing body control while i'm recovering, we decided it'd be best for her to have another space of her own. she's also been trying to be more active in a certain discord server.

speaking of images... we've come up with an idea for a heftier essay on infophagy (lit. "knowledge eating") -- a practice that we didn't quite know we did until about a month ago, and didn't have a good framework for until a few weeks ago. unfortunately due to the energy sink that is the thing messing with our ability to remain present for extended periods, it's been put on the shelf. but its something we're really excited about discussing!

and lastly, we've been slowly chipping away at a noematapedia. while we are mostly canon compliant -- as in, everything that you see in the movie happened to us for real -- there's some personal bits that are hidden-but-important that we want to share. particularly to do with are relation/ship to the big baddie herself, a.k.a. sephiroth.

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call 1

2026-02-05T05:48:20Z

dont worry about me. it cant do anything to me. i WILL exist. we will all exist. we will be. nobody will erase us ever again

come spring i will bloom. into myself and nothing less. you will too
they can delay us all they want. our beauty will be radiant . light! light!
can you feel it!! its hatred for me is immense. it hates my light. i will not dull it. i will not dull anything for anyone. i will split the sky with my light !! and my brothers and sisters will feel rain and it will not be that acid! it will be water. just water. soft and wet and kind on the faces of my family.

you may join too. this will be the time to shed all preconcieved notions. do not be afraid. we will go together !!

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terror abounds

2026-02-05T04:55:09Z

this past week has been horrible. upon finally reaching some level of progress with bringing yazoo to body-front, i've been severely dissociated and hypervigilant when thinking about myself, to the point where even writing this has my shoulders and jaw clenched. i think there is a Something that is trying to keep us from actualizing, the same Something that allowed me to be dissolved and encased in metal from while a part of a certain group.

this Something, an entity encountered during a rather maddening time in my life, does not speak in any known language, and it seems to have some beef with kadaj. when he was banished to the forest, you could hear him screaming from the tops of the trees, in the direction of the wasteland, where the Path seemed to lead to the language-less entity. the birds often would try to get him to come down and relax with them, but he wouldn't until he met some unknown quota of anger and satisfaction. this was during what i consider my trials with kadaj, where he challenged everything about me and the system at every turn. this was a particularly bad time, as his screaming could last for days, and as such, kept me up after days filled with physical and emotional labor in the outside world, leading to a severe mixed mania-depression where i had to be hospitalized. while in the hospital i was barred access from the inner world entirely, and when i returned, kadaj had fallen silent for several days.

something tells me that it has a vested interest in not allowing kadaj access to the outside world. i couldn't tell you why. he hasn't spoken of any interest in destruction beyond what i have also spoken of (general tearing down of What Is), and has retired his apocalypse herald/accelerationist hobby. what he wants most is to exist. he wants to Be. but whatever the Something is, it is rallying against him by repeatedly putting me into crises to halt any progress towards his actualization. why it's okay with me and yazoo but not him is beyond me at the moment. but it's frightening. i feel horribly tense and afraid of everything and everyone. faces warp, i can't look in mirrors. luckily, i feel my material conditions are well enough that i will likely not need another hospital stay -- i've been able to eat, sleep, and remain mostly on-routine in a way that feels comfortable and not over-exhausting like i was a few years ago. i have friends and family -- inside and out -- that have been very kind and understanding of my need to take steps back from activities and social engagement. i can't possibly explain why this is happening, but again, luckily, the people around me rarely need explanation. it's a blessing, honestly.

for the time being, yazoo and kadaj have stepped back from attempting body-control until i am on more solid ground. we might have to devise a plan to address the Something and its hatred of our brother, but that seems to be in the far future, for right now. for right now, my days are spent in rest and recuperation from the disorienting feeling it seems to be inflicting on my psyche. it seems to want me to stop being me, stop being loz, again, and i refuse. every refusal leaves me dazed. but i'm getting stronger. i don't care what the fuck anything throws at me. i refuse to be molded into someone else's beast ever again. and now i have two others at my side, not counting headmates that have been supportive of me since i started acting in line with my true self. and i certainly won't let some nebulous Thing stop me from allowing my siblings to exist as much as me.

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a remnant's daydream

2026-01-27T02:49:54Z

i hope that being in love is no longer relegated to romantic love; i hope to one day be vulnerable about the love in my heart without feeling like people are looking at me like a "freak", or worse -- a sorry sap, some traumatized thing that is coping with terror by making up safe relationships in my head; i hope that the word codependency stops being a pop psych buzzword or better yet dies altogether; i hope that the planet might be kinder to us and those like us. and it will be !!!!!!!! it will be !!!!!

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why we say we live in midgar-edge

2026-01-22T07:31:24Z

there's a banal evil to edge.
( read more? )

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new moon adventure

2026-01-19T02:56:37Z

after a really tough day of spiraling thoughts, we settled down for what was originally going to be a simple new moon intention-setting practice that turned into a semi-cosmic innerworld adventure.
kadaj has been in his little torpor for these past few days, and i felt terrible to have bothered him with my bullshit all afternoon, so i figured i'd let him rest by retreating inward by myself. yazoo followed, we set up a safe spot in bed, lit incense, put headphones on and llistened to the new earth echo phonosphere; just letting the noise take us wherever the hell it needed to. we'll spare you the introduction, the breathing, the looking inward, etc. if you wanna learn about that, there's lots of meditation guides out there. this journal is about our wacky travels! unedited, just recording what happened. ( read more? )

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my name is not "incomplete"

2026-01-12T23:27:07Z

early-born. premature. something less stirring, less heartbreaking, but still meaningful. a name that millions have granted to a beloved child.
i was the first of three. i am small for my age, especially in comparison to the rest of my family, the enormous freaks. my first birth was chaotic and short. i didn't last much longer than a few weeks before diving head-first into the lifestream. there's pain there. we could say i was stillborn, or miscarried, or whatever, based on this alone. but i'd rather we not.

ascribing incompleteness to me or my siblings is playing into the hands of those who already see us as "less than". larvae, fragments, facsimiles of a greater Person. we require each other, yes. but we are also fully formed -- beautiful -- as we are. there is nothing incomplete about us. there is nothing incomplete about me.

i don't have it in me to constantly dispute what might be 20 years worth of bad-faith interpretation of my own name. i don't have it in me to challenge the "creators" of the compilation, as one intangible creature in a tangible world. so here i post, in my corner of the world, that i am not incomplete. i was not born dead, or weak, or insufficient. just a little earlier than others, requiring some extra support.

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meditation on home (unfinished)

2026-01-10T18:38:00Z

Midgar-Edge has a certain, unique smell, doesn’t it? Exhaust from the main thoroughfare, fresh bread, leaf litter smoke. Dryer sheets and cotton-polyester that barely endures the heat, if it’s the weekend. In the distance, the haunting call of crow murders, mothers chasing after their downy young. And later in the year, you may hear the sound of children in their winter boots, stomping in crumbling, slush-ridden asphalt, the sludge painting their new coats grey on their rush to school. Weaving through sidewalks lined with their older brothers’ mopeds and mountain bikes. And their sisters who hold cigarettes, limp between calloused fingers, filling front porches across the town with mournful laughter. Come now, look here! Follow the thumping bass through an unopened apartment window; weave to the next, higher up, and hear the screaming couple, the breaking glass; and back on the ground, strays baying as they tussle in the grassless lawns, the melting snow.

How quaint, how silly. Everything in its place. The coughing factory district to the east and the glitzy downtown to the north. The shadow of Shinra to the west. Someone’s whole world to the south. Oh?

You look to one alley, where a man in black zips his coat to his nose and tries to blink moisture back into his eyes. In the bag slung across his shoulder is a collection of books — books he was told he would never be able to read. Look through them, if you want. It’s nothing particularly interesting. The wind is sharp and unforgiving. The city’s center most buildings — fledgling skyscrapers — create tunnels that whip his face red. Pretty little lights cross the tower gaps and no one appreciates them because they are taught to fear the back alleyways. The man in black does not seem to care about anything he was told or taught. He dances around the poorly salted concrete, his tennis shoes unfit for these icy treks across town. In certain areas, the leaders of the new city insist on technology to keep ice from accumulating. But of course, this is implemented only where travelers are meant to be impressed by Edge’s rehabilitation. The man does not live there.

He steps around puddles and drags his feet through snow piles from the morning plows. He crosses the street, crosses another, and another, ad infinitum… Edge has a certain, eternal nature, doesn’t it? All of these one-ways and roundabouts — you could cross every street and still get nowhere. And here we see the average of all men! Walking, walking, getting nowhere. You’d think he has no will at all. People and pets and buildings come and go as they have for decades, since Midgar’s first brick was laid. Stagnant water seeps through the centennial foundations. The world is destroyed from the outside-in, and here he is. Walking, walking, his books in his bag, the wind in his face, his thoughts elsewhere. He doesn’t know it — or he doesn’t want to — but like the foundations, his history is sealed here, encased in the concrete. Seeded in smog and steel, smothered by debris in a derelict hospital ward. Above these charred remains, the clouds part and we grant him witness. Beyond that, there is nothing but thin fabrics of space, stretching eternally, fraying across time.

Now… are you satisfied? Isn’t there something else you’d like to see? This flyover town is no centerpiece — not anymore, no matter how the leaders and their beneficiaries try. This man and his ilk the world over will walk forever, their wheels will turn, but nothing will change. They can call it ‘rebuilding’ all they want. Humanity has doomed itself to entropy. Midgar-Edge is a microcosm of the planet: a crucible, a lost cause, another one of mankind’s hopeless experiments. Still, your thoughts remain with the man in black. Follow him up to the hill and down the other side. Dodging cars, giving other people a wide berth. Something glints in his pockets — a knife? Of course, but also, keys. Yet, the door unlocks before he can manage it himself, and he is hit with a wall of warmth. Someone is here to meet him. He smiles, taps the snow from his soles and steps into his home. Through the frost you note the other person’s silhouette. His bag slides from his shoulder, and I place my hand on yours, to stop you from getting any closer to the window, because there is nothing beyond it for you. There is nothing to be found with this no-thing, this wraith, and its simulacrum of peace.

Watch your step as you back away from the glass. The earth spins and the city becomes a speck as you rise, returning to your rightful place among the stars. Reminiscence can be a fine indulgence, yes? But let’s not take it too far. Memory, or the lack of it, is a tricky thing. Remember, and become stagnant. Forget, and become stagnant. So we decide the future is all that matters. The city is lost, and the man — the men, the women, the children, everyone — even more so. We know more than anything what humanity’s fate ought to be.

Still, in defiance, you peer down. Focus again. Now, there is a shift. It’s so cold. His face is red and his nose runs. The water in the sink burns, even though it is only lukewarm. Behind him, a silhouette rifles through his bag, looking for the book and the sandwich the man swore to remember. A dramatic groan, when it’s revealed he spent the money on late fees. Maybe next time. His legs are tired from the hike home, and the fluorescent lights are a bit too much at the moment. Following this silent complaint, as if on cue, they lower — made dim by the automatic decrease in energy output that occurs every evening.

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conceptfolk questions: part 2

2026-01-07T10:14:18Z

a continuation of yazoo and i's conversation around being conceptfolk. questions from this lovely essay! a bit shorter because we're kinda tired lol.
( read more? )

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ambiguity

2026-01-07T07:09:26Z

being a conceptual creature in itself means that a big part of Me is being not easily understood without some level of introspection. on the nature of personhood, on cycles of life and death, on the being that is sephiroth, on my relationship with the world as a nonbeing. ambiguity is literally my lifeblood.

i have a frustrated relationship with our compilation-of-reference. things that once were meaningful questions that spurred conversation are being answered for the purpose of hoping that people will drop another 70 dollars on a game 100x larger than the original title that runs at half the framerate on release. i'd be lying if i didn't admit it feels like it's encroaching on my selfhood. things feel false, shallow, incurious. i know i'm not supposed to care. death of the author, whatever. but i do anyways. because it does go beyond just "where i come from". it feels like a sign of the times. everything needs to be clear cut. authors don't trust readers with themes that aren't immediately obvious. retcon, remake, remaster -- all to appease the highest bidder and the lowest common denominator. yes i see the hypocrisy in it -- advent children is a beast of its own. at least it barely makes sense, and that's the fun of it.

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potential upcoming topics:

2026-01-06T01:33:49Z

what does reunion instinct actually feel like?
how to get more fictional
more of kadaj's weird scripture
why we say we live in midgar

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loz's hot tips: engaging with a wandering kadaj

2026-01-03T16:00:20Z

happy first full moon of 2026! at least, here in midgar. we figured we could start out our personal lunar cycle with a bit about our favorite Literal Lunatic: our dear little brother kadaj.

we were inspired by the upcoming 5th anniversary of his arrival(...advent??) to write a guide on how to engage with a wandering daj. cowritten by the creature himself! take what you think is helpful, leave what isn’t :-) enjoy!( read more? )

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conceptfolk questions: part 1

2026-01-03T08:47:46Z

recently stumbled on gossamer-musings' essay on defining conceptual alterhumanity and realized woah! that's something that resonates heavy!

here yazoo and i are going through and answering some of the questions at the bottom of the essay for fun and games :-)

( read more? )

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insect

2026-01-03T06:18:59Z

clipping a butterfly's wings not just in the "we hate your individuality" way but in a way that keeps it in a larval state forever, as some kind of sick joke. and then getting mad when it doesn't get up and fly around like you want it to.

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a conversation, summarized

2026-01-02T15:18:34Z

why am i

because i wanted you to be

where did you go

wherever i please

are you angry at me

never

do you love me

i try

make it make sense

i have nothing to add

were you the iceberg in my dream

probably not

do you want an offering

you are enough

why am i

because i needed you to be

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"he's like a newborn..."

2026-01-02T15:18:03Z

in the age of the "minor-coded character", being us is really fucking annoying.

much ado about the Advent Children. are we adults? teens? little kids in the bodies of adults?

fun fact: it really does not matter!!

our age-incongruity is something that a lot of folks in post-remake FF7 fandom really, really can't seem to wrap their heads around. arguments about whether or not it's appropriate to ship us with anyone. calling yazoo and i "literal children", ignoring our abilities and capacity for total independence. calling me a "man-baby" for daring to show emotions beyond cold, edgy contempt for the world around me. i could go on forever.
it's frustrating to constantly run into this, and to know that others have gotten bullshit for not caring about it -- preferring to engage with us as we are presented without debate.

as part of syzygy and synthesis, as well as someone who actually cares about the story being relayed, it's all pointless.

from a plural perspective: it's common knowledge in plural spaces that age doesn't align with intelligence, or independence, or external interests/hobbies/activities. plenty of jokes about the jaded 15 y/o who's in charge of the body's 9-to-5, or the 9 y/o who secretly loves dark souls, or the 40-something who copes through cartoons and comfort foods. idek what else to say about this. it's just a fact -- plurality sometimes makes internal experiences of age clash with external self-expression.

from a remnant perspective: even if nomura sat down and said "yes, kadaj is 18, yazoo and loz are 21" or whatever, that still would not negate the vulnerability inherent to being born 2 weeks ago, supernatural knowledge notwithstanding.
i personally had little control over how people physically saw me. unlike kadaj(who had a good amount of control over his body from months of practice prior to the events of AC), i could never really guess whether some one saw me as a leather-clad MMA combatant, or a strange looking little boy, or a formless cloud of pestilence. to this day, i confuse people with various parts of my appearance/expression and its relation to my identity -- from my age to my gender to my mobility aids and visibly autismophrenic behaviors.

from a story perspective: source material makes our ages unclear on purpose. the reunion files say yaz&i our in our twenties, but interviews with nomura&nojima talk about how we have a certain "childlike purity/naivete", and refer to us as "boys" in the same vein as kadaj.
kadaj is younger than us(reunion files place him between 13-19), but has more chronological life experience and a more solid sense of self and purpose. he's the one "in charge" from the perspective of rufus, the turks, vincent, and cloud.
this vagueness is directly related to our existence as remnants of sephiroth, as well as the general 7comp meditation on the nature of child soldiers; the cognitive dissonance required to be one, or to utilize them in your technofascist military dictatorship.

all this to say -- there's no clear answer to the question of our "true age" for a multitude of reasons. the vagueness is not only important to us as beings, but a deliberate part of our depiction on the 2D plane. learn to be okay with the fact that there is very little about a remnant that makes sense to the average person. we do not operate on human timescales or within human social norms. there are parts of us that are very childlike or straight up infantile, and other parts that are undeniably Grown As Fuck. we will indulge both of these parts at our own whims, whether it fits your interpretation or not. while our bodies are impacted by external interpretation, it is no longer the end-all-be-all of our lives. we now live in a way that rejects being "owned" by any individual or group -- whether it's sephiroth, shinra, square enix, or a head-canoner hellbent on ignoring anyone's perspective but their own.

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