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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2023-12-30 20:55:05 -08:00
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writing/post-self/motes/004.md
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@ -75,3 +75,17 @@ There was a part of her that strived to convince the rest that the voice in the
But then there was the bed, and then there was the hand holding up the covers to welcome her in, and then there were the arms envelop her, and then there was the feeling of a face — a human face — an unshifting face — her cocladist-*cum*-mother's face — pressed against the back of her neck, and then there was the clumsy addition of Beholden's paw draping over her side, her other cocladist-*cum*-mother clearly still more asleep than awake.
And then she finally was able to relax.
None of them spoke, once she was settled. Both A Finger Pointing and Beholden quickly drifted back to sleep, and although there were the occasional flashes of skunk/human face, exhausted and sneering, behind her closed eyelids, Motes soon followed.
It wasn't until morning came, when Beholden had slipped away for a few minutes and returned with three mugs of coffee, when all three of them sat up in bed, leaning against the headrest, that she told them of the dream.
"I do not remember it all that well, now," she said holding the oversized mug carefully in comparatively small paws. "But Michelle was there, and she was really upset with me. She kept saying that I was gross and a fetishist and stuff, and that she could not believe that she had this in her, and then she made me kill myself."
"Jesus, Dot," Beholden said, frowning over the rim of her mug. She reached her free arm around the skunk's shoulders and tugged her close against her side in a hug. "I am sorry to hear that. That sounds awful."
A Finger Pointing leaned over to kiss at the tips of her ears. "It really does, my dear, and I think that it is demonstrably not true that she did not not have this in her. You exist, Motes, and you are absolutely her up-tree."
Doing her best to hold still despite the ticklishness of the kisses, Motes nodded. "I know. It was just a dream, and dreams are not real."
"Not unless you are Slow Hours," A Finger Pointing said, nodding. "And even then, there is no guarantee. But come, the details of the dream aside, how are you feeling now?"