The journal has clearly been through the wringer: some of it is water-stained, and there are smudges of old dried blood on some of the pages. For the most part, the drawings aren’t hers: they’re quick and sketchy artistic renditions, but after a while, a different and more feminine hand has taken over and added textual annotations. Height measurements (most of them are very, very large), speculations on biological composition, observations on aggression levels and elemental weaknesses.
And the creatures in question are, needless to say, hard to describe.
Many of them are faceless, or have far too many arms, or one’s face is a pair of cupped hands cradling a glowing golden light; some look like living statuary, moss growing on their stone edges; some have picked up layers of gnarled bark like makeshift armour; there are enormous gaping mouths and arms narrowed to sharp sword-like spikes, all the better to eat or stab you with.
(Most of the original expedition drawings are Gustave’s; the later textual addendums and analysis are Lune’s. She’s added his name in tidy script below every drawing, to ensure the man is properly credited.)
on nevrons.