Ioan half lay, half slouched against the headboard, May draped bonelessly up along eir front. She'd gotten up to make them both coffee to drink in bed while they woke up, then proceed to doze off again, using eir chest as a pillow and the rest of em as mattress.
Ey, meanwhile, had made it through most of eir coffee, resting the cup between the skunk's shoulder blades between sips. It was technically Christmas, ey knew, though neither of them cared much for the holiday. The only reason it stuck in eir mind was eir plans for making the tocană and mămăligă that had become tradition for em and May that afternoon. Ey hadn't learned to cook much prior to uploading --- just a few simple dishes for a poor student --- and it wasn't until ey had wound up on the System in eir current sim that ey'd gone back to teach emself all the things ey'd loved growing up.
It promised to be a lazy sort of day otherwise, which felt necessary. May's spike of anxiety when ey'd gone out for coffee a few days prior had quickly tapered off, but it had not simply gone away. The days that followed had included a lot of asking em if ey was okay and taking breaks to sit and look out the picture windows, doing breathing exercises.
Still, last night had been delightful, with the skunk far more relaxed while they cooked --- or tried to cook --- shitty fast food for each other. After dinner, they moved to the couch with Ioan resting eir head in May's lap so that she could tease her fingers through eir thick hair while they hummed silly little songs to each other.
Today promised to be equally comfortable.
Ey frowned when ey lifted eir mug, only to find it empty. Equally comfortable but for that, ey supposed.
"One day, they're going to find my dead body, clearly smothered to death, my eyebrows fully plucked, sand in my shoes, cracker crumbs in my bed, all of my pens un-capped, all of my book pages dog-eared, with skunk fur in all the food," ey said, laughing. "I'm pretty sure they'll know it was you."
She lifted her chin to park it on eir shoulder. "Mm, well, it is a risk I am willing to take."
Ey tilted eir head to give the top of her own a kiss. An awkward affair, but worth it. "You stay up too late again?"
Lifting her snout, she licked at eir shoulder, getting a laugh out of em. "Whereas you, my dear, are not a very good pillow. Just full to the brim with bones."
"I need those to live."
"Lame," she drawled. After a moment, she added thoughtfully, "I am glad that you have skin, though. It would be quite disgusting without."
"Eugh. As am I." Ey leaned over to grab her coffee cup and steal a sip, threats be damned. "I'm still surprised you didn't wind up with another furry, though. Figured that would be more your style."
She rolled off eir front and sat up eagerly. "A squirrel? Really? Would you be one of those fancy red ones with the ear tufts and outrageous tails or one of the gray ones that were all over where I grew up?"
A quick query of the perisystem archive gave em a good idea of what each might look like. "The red ones sound really ostentatious. I don't know if I could pull that off."
She retrieved her coffee mug from em and settled in beside em instead. "Yes, but the *tail,*" she whined. "Come on, my dear. You would simply *have* to be a red squirrel. You dress all fancy, still, even."
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. "Solid competition."
"I can't picture anything having a bigger tail than you, May. Definitely outrageous."
"I thought you liked my tail."
"I do!"
She laughed and dotted her nose against eir cheek. "Excellent."
"You know, I've always wondered," ey said, getting an arm around her. "Why did the most political stanza of the clade stay skunks? Wouldn't it be more effective to be humans? It's not like the majority of folks on the Systems are furries."
"Only three of the ten are skunks anymore, and you have met all three. Besides, I think End Waking is the only one of the three of us who has not spent time in human form. Some of me in other relationships were --- or perhaps are --- humans. I spent six months with you in that form, even. Remember?"
"For both of us, yes. I like being what I am! Short, chubby, soft, furry," she said, poking at her own belly. "It is just that these are all things that are disarming to a great many people. Even skunks, despite their reputation for smelling bad, are more often seen as bumbling, stupid creatures."
"I wouldn't call you stupid, May. Bumbling, though..."
She rolled her eyes. "Thank you, I think? But yes, even bumbling is a calculated gesture to be inoffensive."
"End Waking said similar." Ey dug through eir exocortices until ey came up with the line, ""Were you amused by the absent minded way that I made tea? The way I just puttered around, doing this, then that, as though I kept remembering that I needed first wood, then water, then mugs?" He said it was a matter of intent."
"It is, yes. I am sure that some of the wider clade who remain skunks are so without a second thought, but that is not how True Name worked, and so it is not how we work."
"And she did that for the same reasons? To be inoffensive?"
She nodded. "In a way. At first, she could not be anything but, as that is how she was forked, but she kept it because of the way the Council worked. She was a skunk, Debarre was a weasel, Zeke-- Ezekiel spent half the time looking like a shambling pile of dirty rags and the other half like an unhoused man, and user11824 looked like the least remarkable person possible, as though your eyes simply slid right off of him. The ethos of the Council was to be just ordinary people who were weird before uploading and remained weird after."
"Jonas wasn't that weird when I met him."
She made a sour face. "But everything that he did was intentional. Every aspect of his appearance and personality."
Ey nodded. It certainly tallied from eir memories.
"But I think True Name kept it after the Council disbanded for much the same reasons. She is a furry because there are plenty of furries on the System. She remains in her early thirties because that is what one expects out of those on the System. She is not unattractive among furries, maintaining that soft figure and well kept appearance without heading towards sex-symbol because that is what many on the System wind up doing for one reason or another. She is normal, I am cute, Why Ask Questions is that shithead at the bar that everyone loves, and so on."
"Right, that makes sense." Ey hesitated, composing eir next words carefully. "You talk about her quite a bit. I know that--"
"You asked, Ioan," she said, frowning.
"I know, May, I just mean in general. I know you're consciously working on how you feel about her, and I keep bringing her up besides. Just an observation."
The moment of tenseness lingered, then passed as she wilted against em, sighing. "I know, my dear. I did not mean to get snippy. You are right, and I am not sure how I feel about that fact, that she is so often on my mind. My feelings remain complex."
"Oh, I definitely get that."
"You seem to enjoy her company more."
Ey shrugged. "I guess. It started out as a way to keep things smooth between us, but now it's just a thing to do outside the house."
"Coffee dates are good," she said, nodding.
"I don't know if I'd call them dates. No romance, there."
The skunk laughed and shook her head. "Just an expression."
"Oh, right." Ey shrugged. "She's just like...a coworker one is friends with. There are contexts that I enjoy her company in, but it's not like I'm inviting her over for the holidays."
"Which is good," she said, grinning. "I am sure that I will get to the point where she and I can coexist in the same space without either of us feeling bad, but sharing Christmas dinner with her would be far too much."
Ey nodded and tightened eir arm around her, kissing between her ears. "Same, I think. Thanks for reminding me, though. I should probably get up and get that started.
They both slid out of the bed to complete their morning tasks: Ioan to make another pot of coffee and prepare breakfast while May went through her grooming routine, then eating, a shower for em while she worked on her monologue.
The dinner itself wasn't exactly onerous. A stew of pork --- ey'd been raised on a version with lamb, which May hadn't liked --- tomatoes, and mushrooms in a garlicky, paprika-filled gravy. Still, it benefited from a longer cooking time, so ey began that after eir shower and set it to simmering.
After that, they set some music to playing --- the overlap of what they both enjoyed wasn't large, given the more than a century's age difference, but piano jazz seemed to work for both of them --- and set to work on whatever it was that was occupying their minds.
Eir conversation this morning as well as eir meeting with True Name a few days prior left Ioan in the mind of skunks and the Ode clade, and even though those both featured quite heavily in the stage adaptation of *On the Perils of Memory*, nothing ey tried seemed quite in the right vein.
Instead, ey flipped to a blank sheet of paper and began a letter, instead.
> True Name,
>
> I hope all is well.
>
> After our conversation a few days ago, as well as another that I had with May this morning, I got to thinking about a pattern I've noticed, and wanted to ask you about it. I hope it's not too impertinent of me. If it's too sensitive, I understand.
> I've noticed that you and May have a tendency to talk about each other quite a bit. I know that there are a lot of factors that go into this such as my relationships with each of you, your shared history, and the fact that I have a habit of asking each of you about the other in turn.
> All the same, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the matter. I don't want to sound meddlesome (indeed, I don't think I'd even be capable of meddling with either of you), I just want to better understand each of you in turn, given the dynamics between us.
>
> I know that's not a huge deal for either of our clades, but all the same, Merry Christmas. Wishing you the best,
>
> Ioan
Ey read through the letter top to bottom three times, then, with a brush of the hand and a bit of intent, sent it on its way.
Doing eir best to forget about it until the other skunk responded, ey puttered around the house, checking on the stew, trying out a new ink in one of eir pens, and rehearsing some lines in a cone of silence.
A bit more than two hours after ey'd sent the message, a reply spooled itself out of eir desk and into eir field of view.
> **IOAN BĂLAN INDIVIDUAL-EYES-ONLY MATERIAL**
>
> Mx. Bălan,
>
> Thank you for your letter. Had we discussed this in person or over sensorium messages, I think that my responses would be quite different, but the intentionality that is required when engaging with writing forced me to think this through more clearly.
> You are correct in assuming that it is you being our shared connection rather than any direct link between the two of us that leads to each of us discussing the other with you frequently. I do not think that this is worth discounting, however, as many know of each other only through one mutual acquaintance and yet still do not talk constantly of each other to that one one person between them. It is still notable that we discuss each other as much as we do.
> Years ago, when the Artemisians first arrived, May Then My Name mentioned a letter that I had sent her regarding you. I am not normally in the habit of sharing the tools of my trade, such as they are, but while sharing with you in particular is uncomfortable, you, of all people, deserve to have the chance to read it, and it may do well to explain where we have found ourselves. Here is that letter in full:
> > I hope that you are doing well. I understand that there remains some concern about the outcome of your previous relationship, and I would like you to know that I am not so far diverged from our common ancestor that I do not share in some of those feelings. I remember how often I would come crying into the Crown, leaning on this shoulder or that as I tried to deal with yet another break-up. I know that I have not always been the kindest or most empathetic down-tree instance, for which I truly am sorry. You are, in many ways, a better version of me, and the completeness that you bring to our stanza ensures that, even if I am not a fully realized person, as you have suggested in the past, we --- whether that is you and I, our stanza, or the Odists as a whole --- still do add up to something that is greater than the sum of its parts. You may not believe me, and for that I do not blame you, but I really do love you in my own way, May Then My Name.
> > I do not know if you have been keeping up with many other stanzas after Qoheleth passed, but it appears that Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled has welcomed a new member to its relationship structure, one Codrin Bălan. I am sure that you recognize the clade name from *On The Perils of Memory*. Codrin's down-tree instance, Ioan Bălan, was the amanuensis that Dear had chosen during that spate of trouble, and the series of events that followed led to a process of individuation. It is always exciting to see that happen, is it not?
> > The reason that I bring this up is that Ioan has picked up as eir next project an investigative piece surrounding the launch project. Given your role as sys-side launch director, I thought that I would put you two in touch. Eir project would benefit greatly from your position as well as your history, both with the project and with our combined history. I have had the chance to meet both Ioan and Codrin in the past, and they are some of the most delightful, insightful people that I have met. Please look them up on the perisystem architecture when you get a chance.
> > The Only Time I Know My True Name Is When I Dream of the Ode clade
> >
> > systime 197+3
>
> That night, when she brought up this message, she mentioned that she believed me when I said that I love her in my own way.
>
> I understand the root of her feelings towards me and, as I also mentioned on that night, I do not begrudge her that. I will ever be what I am, and what that is does not mesh well with her view of the world, even as it is integral to my existence.
> Just as she said that she still believes me, it is also true that I still love her in my own way. Were you to ask me at the time, or even just a year ago, I do not think that I would have admitted such, but even as I suspect that she is working on her thoughts about me with Ms. Genet, I have been working with Ms. Genet on my ability to be truly earnest with those I respect, which includes you.
> I do not hold regrets for the path that has led us to this point, as I have accomplished much that I set out to do, and, while the cost has been great when it comes to my interpersonal relationships (and, as you mentioned, my stress levels), it all very much still feels worth it.
>
> Consciously or not, I make it a point to ask you how she is doing and to engage with her at one degree of remove because this is still a way to maintain that level of connection after so long a time of disconnect.
>
> Writing this has been both stressful and cathartic, so I appreciate having the chance to do so. While communications with my counterparts on Castor and Pollux have been somewhat scant of late, both of them have mentioned that they are striving to find situations in which they can be vulnerable and earnest. As I am sure you understand, this is still quite difficult for us.
> I wish you and her both a delightful holiday. If you are comfortable bringing up the topic of me with her today and would like to get a laugh out of her, please say simply, "Jingle Bells stage blocking."
>
> Sincerely,
>
> The Only Time I Know My True Name Is When I Dream of the Ode clade
Ey read the letter through a few more times, trying to digest all that it contained, trying to square this with what May had said of True Name steering her subtly into eir life, trying once again not to read too deep and guess that True Name#Castor simply hadn't told her about Codrin learning the Name.
Finally, acknowledging that ey wouldn't be able to digest it all in one go, ey dashed off a quick reply thanking True Name for the letter and confirming the time of the next meeting. Then, ey committed the letter to a new exo ey tagged "True Name--May 225" and destroyed the physical copy.
"May?" ey said, dropping eir cone of silence.
"Mm?"
"I was confirming a date with True Name and she said I should ask you about something called 'Jingle Bells stage blocking'. Do you know--"
The skunk let out a melodramatic groan and slid off her stool to the floor, landing on her hands and knees, laughing. "What a fucking brat."
Ey stared at her, nonplussed.
"Oh God, Ioan, you do not know pain until you work with choir kids."
Ey laughed and shook eir head, standing to go stir the stew by way of ruffling over her ears. "You're right, I don't. Skunks are so weird. I'll just have to trust you on that."
