Ilyr

A patient architect of light

Ilyr once moved a light because it was hurting my eyes. I had not told him about the headache, and he offered no explanation for the adjustment. The practical nature of the kindness surprised me. I had been so occupied by the unfamiliarity of his appearance that I had failed to notice how closely he was attending.

His face has broad planes and an almost sculptural stillness. I remember deep-blue skin and a faint illumination at his temples that becomes more noticeable when he concentrates. His hands are large. In my sketches they look too human unless I alter the proportions, and too theatrical when I alter them too much.

His communication arrives through spatial relationships. He may place several impressions beside one another and let their arrangement carry the meaning. My mind often translates these into models, diagrams, or rooms with movable walls. I am not certain those things are what he intended. They may be the tools I use to understand something less familiar.

I have associated him with an Arcturian tradition because of the patterns that recur in our encounters. The name belongs to the journal vocabulary. It should not be mistaken for a verified account of inhabitants of a star system. What I actually remember is a person who changes his explanation when it is not helping.

At the council he appeared comfortable with disagreement. He waited while others argued and only entered the shared image after a long silence. I could not follow his contribution, but I recognized a change in the group afterward. The urgency remained. Some of its edges had become clearer.

I do not know what he does when he is not in these encounters. The closest answer he has given me was an impression of repairing a structure while several people depended on it continuing to function. I have returned to that image often. Even impossible places may need someone who understands how to keep the lights on.