Tempest is a riff on the daggers design. It makes use of a new geometric pattern we’re discovering.
Tempest makes use of curves and lines that are evident in some of our other pieces, and yet it’s wholly unique. It’s one of our few pieces at the moment that is reminiscent of Arabic culture. A culture I am wholly unfamiliar with. One I long to explore in the near future. Some of the mosques predate the Gothic period and share similar elements from their geometry to their archways. At an ignorant glance, I wonder how much was borrowed from one culture and implemented in the other.
Tempest is a design that’s sharp— we blunt the edges of every piece— in reference to its silhouette. I considered naming this piece “Gale” after shear winds capable of cutting through foliage and buildings. However, Tempest was something that grabbed my attention.
A tempest is more sustained. It’s a storm with strong winds capable of uprooting trees.
I believe this analogy translates pretty well to us. In the healthy sense a Tempest is something we can become in an attempt to bring about great change in our environment immediately. It’s rage in its purest form. It’s my belief that anyone who deems rage to be wholly useless is either so far removed from their own anger, so desperately terrified of what they may do as a result of it, or was never given full reign to express it as they needed to. I fall into all three of these categories, I am not shaming anyone— especially myself.
Rage has its place. It has kept me alive more times than I can count on my fingers— probably even more that I can’t recall. It has kept people I care deeply about stay alive as well. It has resulted in the deaths of those I love very much. Rage is a tool, an innate response to threat that ought to be accessible to us when we need it. Not constantly being triggered, nor remaining locked in the dungeon.
For me, allowing this rage to come out used to feel like I was doing something horribly wrong. And I believe this to be common for those that have removed ourselves from that part of us.
What I’m getting at is this: a tempest is neither good or bad. It’s the result of a myriad of chaotic influences. It simply exists. For us it’s similar. I’m familiar with the extremes. Life or death. But what I’ve also noticed is that each expression of rage has led to a deeper trust and understanding of myself. Even when I’m sitting on my computer managing the backend of Midnight's Honor and raging because one of our platforms isn’t working.
A tempest is honest. And I think our expression of rage ought to be too.
