update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2024-01-24 05:00:05 -08:00
parent 526946b986
commit 1890078c7a
2 changed files with 22 additions and 21 deletions

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@ -2,17 +2,17 @@
Beholden never quite understood play.
She *played,* that was for sure. She played with her music, her sound design. She played with people's voices, recording them for later and slicing them up into bits and bites, rebuilding them into some work of eerie or jittery or calming beauty. She played with the sounds around her house, her studio, the whole of the world. She played with acoustics. She played with spaces. She played with echoes and reverberations and dead-zones and cones of silence. The played with soundscapes and world-soundtracks.
She *played,* that was for sure. She played with her music, her sound design. She played with people's voices, recording them for later and slicing them up into bits and bites, rebuilding them into some work of eerie or jittery or calming beauty. She played with the sounds around her house, her studio, the whole of the world. She played with acoustics. She played with spaces. She played with echoes and reverberations and dead-zones and cones of silence. She played with soundscapes and world-soundtracks.
She hummed and sang. She played the piano, the drums, the guitar. She played the clarinet badly and the flute worse. She played with A Finger Pointing, their own little jazz trio, their own little big band. She played with her friends, jam session after jam session after jam session. She played her own sets, forking countless times over to play at however many clubs or venues. She played at The Party — several instances thereof! — running now for the last century and a half, a party that never ceased, attendees sleeping wherever, in beds or where they had fallen, with each other, alone. Beholden To The Flow Of The Crowds existed for a reason, yes?
She played as she danced. She played with others, dragging them home for a one-night stand, a few-nights fling, a relationship that lasted a month or two, but so rarely any longer.
And she played with Motes, too. She really did! She played with her little Dot, tickling her until she said she was going to be sick, or pretending to pick her up by the ears as the skunklet clutched at her forearms. She played dead for Motes when she grew too exhausted to keep up. She lay there, on the floor, eyes closed, breathing turned off, while her charge scampered around, leaping over her, triumphant, hollering about victories, or wept over her unalive-yet-souled body at the tragedy — oh, woe! Such tragedy! — of a fallen comrade. Less mother than cool stepdad, she played with her kid.
And she played with Motes, too. She really did! She played with her little Dot, tickling her until she said she was going to be sick, or pretending to pick her up by the ears as the skunklet clutched at her forearms. She played dead for Motes when she grew too exhausted to keep up. She lay there, on the floor, eyes closed, breathing turned off, while her charge scampered around, leaping over her, triumphant, hollering about victories, or wept over her unalive-yet-still-souled body at the tragedy — oh, woe! Such tragedy! — of a fallen comrade. Less mother than cool stepdad, she played with her kid.
But she did not understand it. She did not really get it. She rarely thought about it, but when she did, it was more baffling than it was natural.
Beholden was not stupid. She was not an idiot. She could conceptualize things around her, and in all the many ways the rest of the clade was, she was wickedly intelligent in her own area of hyperfixation, hyperspecialization. When it came to emotions, though, when it came to instincts and base responses, she could not quite understand. It was not her fixation, her specialization.
Beholden was not stupid. She was not an idiot. She could conceptualize things around her, and, as in all the many ways the rest of the clade was, she was wickedly intelligent in her own area of hyperfixation, hyperspecialization. When it came to emotions, though, when it came to instincts and base responses, she could not quite understand. It was not her fixation, her specialization.
She did not really know why she played, because she did not really *care* to know why.
@ -22,7 +22,7 @@ She did not know why she rose so quickly to anger. She did not know why she and
She just knew that she played, that she loved, she got stuck in her big feelings.
And so when she found Motes huddled in the middle of her studio, all but curled into a ball as she crouched on the floor, when she found her bloodied beat up, Beholden panicked. She kept it together long enough to help the little skunk to her room, to fork, to bed. She held herself in one piece as she told Motes time and again that she loved her. She held the panic at bay until she made her way to her studio, locked the completely soundproof door, and crumpled to the ground, screaming and wailing and sobbing. She tore holes in the couch cushions with her claws. She ripped acoustic foam from the walls. She threw the table hard enough to shatter it.
And so when she found Motes huddled in the middle of her studio, all but curled into a ball as she crouched on the floor, when she found her bloodied, beat up, Beholden panicked. She kept it together long enough to help the little skunk to her room, to fork, to bed. She held herself in one piece as she told Motes time and again that she loved her. She held the panic at bay until she made her way to her studio, locked the completely soundproof door, and crumpled to the ground, screaming and wailing and sobbing. She tore holes in the couch cushions with her claws. She ripped acoustic foam from the walls. She threw the table hard enough to shatter it.
And then, when sobs settled into simple tears and not great, heaving things, she waved her paw to unwind the tantrum. She brought into being a glass of water to set on the once more intact table, sat down on the un-torn couch, and moaned through her tears, letting the replaced acoustic foam absorb the sounds.
@ -32,7 +32,7 @@ When she was next able to speak, she began a sensorium message to A Finger Point
Quelling her shame, she straightened herself up as best she could, deciding not to fork away the mussed up fur or tear-stains on her cheeks, letting some of that trauma show for reasons she could not explain, and stepped back out of her studio to find A Finger Pointing pacing back and forth in the living room.
"I came as soon as oh, Beholden..." Her cocladist's shoulder slumped as she trailed off, putting a halt to her pacing so that she could wrap the skunk up in a hug. "Are you okay, my dear?"
"I came as soon as oh, Beholden..." Her cocladist's shoulders slumped as she trailed off, putting a halt to her pacing so that she could wrap the skunk up in a hug. "Are you okay, my dear?"
Despite the stinging of new tears in her eyes, she nodded. "Not particularly, but I am here. How did you know that Motes was overflowing?"
@ -40,7 +40,7 @@ A Finger Pointing hesitated, frowned, and pulled a letter from her pocket, handi
As Beholden read through the letter, her lips curled up into a snarl, and she could feel a low growl build in her chest. "'I expect better'!" she muttered darkly, stamping her foot. "Jesus *fucking* Christ. 'Grounded in reality' indeed."
Smiling humorlessly, she nodded toward the letter. "I am assuming that this mention of a letter is what took Motes down."
Smiling humorlessly, A Finger Pointing nodded toward the letter. "I am assuming that this mention of a letter is what took Motes down."
"Took her down?" Beholden cried, then quickly tamped down the flare of anger, returning the letter to her partner. "She was covered in blood when I checked on her. Someone must have hit her hard enough to give her a bloody nose. She was all scraped up."
@ -48,7 +48,7 @@ A Finger Pointing blanched, stiffened for a long few seconds, then nodded. "Did
"Yeah, I brought her to enough to get her to fork into her PJs, but she is out hard right now in bed."
She sighed, shoulders slumping. "Thank you, my love. I had assumed the last bit, at least, and have left her be. I did not wish to add to her stress at the moment."
"Thank you, my muse. I had assumed the last bit, at least, and have left her be. I did not wish to add to her stress at the moment."
Beholden nodded. "What do we do?"
@ -58,15 +58,15 @@ And so they did. They circled around each other, brought Dry Grass into the fold
All the while, Beholden did her best to remain calm, or to at least tamp down expressions of overwhelming emotions. There were walks. Many walks. Many excuses to step away to the auditorium or to get fresh air or stretch her legs.
She went always alone on her walks, pacing out along the deer trails or walking the loop of the neighborhood time and again, poking her way among the seats and catwalks of the auditorium.
She went always alone on her walks, pacing out along the deer trails or walking the loop of the neighborhood time and again or poking her way among the seats and catwalks of the auditorium.
Or tried to go alone, as always there was someone willing to go with her, asking gently if she needed company, even if that company was silent, or if she needed instead to talk. Slow Hours volunteered. Unbidden volunteered. A Finger Pointing, having spent so many years, so many decades with her, did not volunteer, but did look after her with a mix of worry and understanding in her face.
The only time she accepted the company was when Dry Grass, fresh out of her meeting with Sasha, did not so much volunteer as, wiping freshly-shed tears from her face, ask Beholden if they could go for a walk together so that she could talk. That Beholden had already slipped on her hoodie, had already drank a glass of water, was already heading towards the door suggested that this was a form of volunteering, but Dry Grass certainly deserved as much as anyone the chance to talk through the position she had found herself in, so she reluctantly said yes.
The only time she accepted the company was when Dry Grass, fresh out of her meeting with Sasha, did not so much volunteer as, wiping freshly-shed tears from her face, ask Beholden if they could go for a walk together so that she could talk. That Beholden had already slipped on her hoodie, had already drank a glass of water, was already heading towards the door suggested that this was a form of volunteering, but Dry Grass certainly deserved as much as anyone the chance to talk through the position she had found herself in, so Beholden reluctantly said yes.
The two walked in silence, both looking down more at the sidewalk as it passed beneath their feet than around them, both processing in their own way.
"Hey, uh," Beholden said at last once they'd made it halfway through the neighborhood, halfway around the usual loop. "Are you okay? I mean, things are awful, but are you feeling okay?"
"Hey, uh," Beholden said at last once they had made it halfway through the neighborhood, halfway around the usual loop. "Are you okay? I mean, things are awful, but are you feeling okay?"
Dry Grass started at the sudden intrusion of words, smiling sheepishly over to the skunk. "I mean, no. Yes, in a way, but also no."
@ -78,7 +78,7 @@ She laughed. "Right, sorry. I am a bit all over the place at the moment." She to
The answer was a long time coming. "I feel vindicated," Dry Grass said at last. "I feel validated that my estimate of Hammered Silver was correct. She is worse than I thought, maybe, but at least I was not wrong, yes?"
Beholden sorted. "Wrong in the correct direction."
Beholden snorted. "Wrong in the correct direction."
She smiled, nodding as her gaze drifted out into the neighborhood, over at the playground in the central area. "And yes because I am finding out in a very real way that there are still people on my side, that I still have friends. I still get to spend time with you and A Finger Pointing, and I still get to spend time with Motes. I just feel bad that she wound up at the center of this."
@ -94,15 +94,15 @@ Dry Grass gently nudged her across the street, aiming for the playground and say
"I am curious how, if you are open to sharing."
She shrugged, "Sure, though I also want to know why you are curious about this in particular."
She shrugged. "Sure, though I also want to know why you are curious about this in particular."
Dry Grass smiled, shrugged. "Something to talk about that is not my down-tree being a terrible fucking person."
Dry Grass smiled, shrugged as well. "Something to talk about that is not my down-tree being a terrible fucking person."
Beholden smirked. "Okay, yeah, that is fair." She scuffed a paw against the gravel, thinking. "It was mostly just hard for me to wrap my head around, I guess. I have some of those same desires in me as your whole stanza does, but they were always minimized and pushed to the side. Even boss has way more than I do, right? Like, it is her job to take care of things. She is not really the boss of Au Lieu Du Rêve, she is its mom."
Holding onto the chains of the swing and nudging herself back a meter or so with her feet, Dry Grass nodded. "I can see that, yes. It is like how I headed into systech stuff because I cared for the System." She smiled faintly. "I was Lagrange's mom."
The skunk nodded. "Yeah, like that. I just have way less of that in me than either you or A Finger Pointing. You are both way better at this than I am. Dot means a lot to me. A whole lot, actually. That we have to have a systech on staff to kick her into forking whenever she dies on stage just kills me. It breaks my heart whenever I see that."
The skunk nodded. "Yeah, like that. I just have way less of that in me than either you or A Finger Pointing. You are both way better at this than I am. Dot means a lot to me. A whole lot. That we have to have a systech on staff to kick her into forking whenever she dies on stage just kills me. It breaks my heart whenever I see that."
Dry Grass winced. "Me too. I will not show up to a performance if I know that will happen."
@ -114,7 +114,7 @@ She hesitated, simply letting the swing carry her for a few moments. "I do not k
Dry Grass nodded.
"So it took me a lot of getting used to. Even boss was a little caught off guard by that. I shied away from her for a bit when she started started, I am sorry to say. 'Bee' is a compromise that felt on the edge of comfort at the time, though now it feels really good when she calls me that. She calls you 'Ma 2.0', did you know that?"
"So it took me a lot of getting used to. Even boss was a little caught off guard by that." She hesitated, looked down to the gravel as she kicked a foot through it. "I am a little ashamed to say that I backed off from her for a while when she did that. 'Bee' is a compromise that felt on the edge of comfort at the time, though now it feels really good when she calls me that. She was so patient with me." Drawing her attention back to Dry Grass, she smiled, adding, "She calls you 'Ma 2.0', did you know that?"
Dry Grass blinked, then burst out in laughter, laughing until once more the tears flowed down her cheeks, holding herself still on her swing with feet planted firmly on the ground.
@ -148,7 +148,7 @@ The conversation of good things continued — Motes designing the playground, Wa
With each step, a bit of color once more seeped from the world and a bit more worry once more gnawed at Beholden's gut.
Lunch was, despite being a sauce served over rice, all the same dry and ashen in Beholden's mouth as she struggled with so many swirling feelings, so many spiraling thoughts around what had happened.
Lunch, despite being a sauce served over rice, was all the same dry and ashen in Beholden's mouth as she struggled with so many swirling feelings, so many spiraling thoughts around what had happened.
Still, she managed to clean her plate, managed to straighten herself up for the meeting with Waking World, managed to only yell at him a little bit. She managed as best she could as they did their best to learn what paths forward they had.
@ -166,11 +166,12 @@ She knew well because she had heard A Finger Pointing fall as the world ceased t
So she set her mind to caring for her partner. It was as she had always done. It was as she must do.
She pressed those emotions down and instead lingered on love. She lingered on her devotion to A Finger Pointing, on her protectiveness of her charge. She lingered on those good memories as best she can to keep the very air from tasting desiccating, to push away the feeling of sand gritting between her teeth.
She pressed those emotions down and instead lingered on love. She lingered on her devotion to A Finger Pointing, on her protectiveness of her charge. She lingered on those good memories as best she could to keep the very air from tasting desiccating, to push away the feeling of sand gritting between her teeth.
Once A Finger Pointing was settled on the couch and Motes had been checked on, once the message had been sent to Hammered Silver and they had eaten and settled down on the couch for the night, only then, did Beholden very carefully open the jarred emotions from earlier, carefully withdrawing them one by one and laying them out before herself in her mind. She did not touch them. She used tweezers or tongs or perhaps chopsticks to lift them free, nudge them to lay flat that she might read deeper into them.
Once A Finger Pointing was settled at home and Motes had been checked on, once the message had been sent to Hammered Silver and they had eaten and settled down on the couch for the night, only then, did Beholden very carefully open the jarred emotions from earlier, carefully withdrawing them one by one and laying them out before herself in her mind. She did not touch them. She used tweezers or tongs or perhaps chopsticks to lift them free, nudge them to lay flat that she might read deeper into them.
And then, exhausted by day, by the last few days, by worry over her Dot, her *dóttir*, by worry over her boss — "not your boss" the common refrain — she carefully replaced all of those emotions, still largely unprocessed, into their container and once more sealed it tight. There had been precious little processing tonight.
And then, exhausted by day, by the last few days, by worry over her Dot, her *dóttir*, by worry over her boss — "not your boss" the common refrain — she carefully replaced all of those emotions, still unprocessed, into their container and once more sealed it tight.
She could not do it, could not push her way into engaging with these feelings, these emotions. Not yet. Not tonight.
Perhaps some day she might.

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@ -30,6 +30,6 @@ Story about Hammered Silver losing her shit and cutting out the fifth stanza for
* [X] [E: A letter from Hammered Silver](005) --- The letter; going for a walk as big Motes; staying that way for a week; pulled aside by Beholden to talk about it; A Finger Pointing is out for Some Reason; talking with Sarah.
* [X] [D': Flashback to the past](006) --- The origins of Motes told; some anecdotes (including Slow Hours's prophecy).
* [X] [C': A Finger Pointing and Hammered Silver](007) --- A Finger Pointing gets a letter, too; discussing what to do about it; risk assessment with Waking World and Sasha; message to Hammered Silver.
* [o] [?: Beholden](008) --- Beholden muses on the past, family, and anger.
* [O] [?: Beholden](008) --- Beholden muses on the past, family, and anger.
* [X] [B': Hunting for a new way forward](009) --- Big Motes for a bit; not going to stop playing or stop being Little Motes, just wants to know how to deal with the pain; talking with Sarah.
* [X] [A': Outro](010) --- About the future of Motes.