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The set of Fanblade Fables was an apocryphal epilogue to YESTERFANG. Below, in turn, is an apocryphal epilogue to that apocryphal epilogue.

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Hiver Jawn heard the helicopter crash with a clatter of vanes.

The accident was so slow-key, the fractures were minor and the injuries slight.  A sluggish ricochet between the towers of Swift City. The occupants managed to slide off like reptiles - ashamed of their mismanaged piloting.  At least it had been a soft-bellied landing.

Carefully, at the crash site, Jawn pieced the constituents of a fragile lady's fan together - vaneblade to vaneblade - creating, eventually, more than one fan to cool his ardor for existence, each fan circularly forming a seamless goblet or grail.  Holy with no holes.

He looked up to see if he were over-looked.  And I could no longer see him.  He had mined himself inward to search further down for the blades spinning within the vent of his own bottom; the only way to escape was in the form of yellow gas.

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Apocrypha beyond the last apocrypha:

http://simplon.blogspirit.com/archive/2006/10/14/hiver.html

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