Forgive me, a moment of fancy bubbling up out of lectures on the myths of origin, and the confluence of forces that becomes a city, and talk of cyber-Anansi, sitting in webs of words ...
We are a pantheon of shapeshifters, are we not? *grins* Fandom, community, online. A pantheon of shapeshifters. Faceless, formless, defined only by our names, our kennings for ourselves, and the words we spin between us. Shapeshifters, cuckoos, slipping inside the nests of other people's stories, wearing their names and their shapes to tell tales all our own. Blood-brothers bound by common deceit and common honesty, the illusion of form and the truth of names, and only the stories our constant.
*grins* Sorry, sorry. Moment of fancy. I'm in a strange mood.