update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/motes/007.md

@@ -160,11 +160,14 @@ The next meeting was much the same.
 
 No letter came.
 
-The next meeting was canceled: "I am not feeling well." Fair enough, there were days when she did not feel well, were there not? Sickness, a thing of the past, nonetheless still appeared psychosomatically, or perhaps Hammered silver was going through one of the spells each of the Odists had been left with, those little bits of overflowing when being oneself became too much and overrode whatever it meant to exist and the world was too noisy to see and too bright to hear. Perhaps Hammered Silver was overflowing.
+The next meeting was canceled: "I am not feeling well." 
+
+Fair enough, there were days when A Finger Pointing did not feel well, were there not? Sickness, a thing of the past, nonetheless still appeared psychosomatically, or perhaps Hammered silver was going through one of the spells each of the Odists had been left with, those little bits of overflowing when being oneself became too much and overrode whatever it meant to exist and the world was too noisy to see and too bright to hear. Perhaps Hammered Silver was overflowing.
 
 The next meeting was canceled: "I am still unwell." Well, okay. At times The Only Constant would be taken out for weeks at a time, desperately clinging to life despite death a thing of the past. A Finger Pointing sent a get-well-soon note and a dichroic rose to her home sim.
 
-The next meeting was canceled, and this time, the note was: "I have a prior engagement." This was bullshit, patented and trademarked, registered as a copyright and service mark. A prior engagement, indeed! Did she think that A Finger Pointing was a brand new upload? Did she think that her cocladist was really so stupid? The Odists! The Odists not forking! Were Hammered Silver a member of the tenth stanza — were Hammered Silver actually Death Itself, that most lovely of people — perhaps she could understand, but she was not. She was not! Hammered Silver had laughed countless times before over the sudden disappearance of the need to worry about 'prior engagements'.
+The next meeting was canceled, and this time, the note was: "I have a prior engagement." 
+This was bullshit, patented and trademarked, registered as a copyright and service mark. A prior engagement, indeed! Did she think that A Finger Pointing was a brand new upload? Did she think that her cocladist was really so stupid? The Odists! The Odists not forking! Were Hammered Silver a member of the tenth stanza — were Hammered Silver actually Death Itself, that most lovely of people — perhaps she could understand, but she was not. She was not! Hammered Silver had laughed countless times before over the sudden disappearance of the need to worry about 'prior engagements'.
 
 A Finger Pointing knew this was bullshit, and she also knew that Hammered Silver knew this, knew that she knew it was bullshit.
 
@@ -172,8 +175,43 @@ A Finger Pointing knew this was bullshit, and she also knew that Hammered Silver
 
 The reply: *"Oh, you know how it goes. One simply overbooks oneself. Let us meet next week at the usual time, yes?"*
 
-And so she agreed, and so at last they met, and once more there was a stiffness and closed off nature about Hammered Silver
-((the past: Motes))
+And so she agreed, and so at last they met, and once more there was a stiffness and closed off nature about Hammered Silver.
+
+"Okay, Hammered Silver," she said, sitting back with her tiny (and frankly far too bitter) espresso in hand. "I really would like to know what it is that is happening. Often, there have been chilly moments between us, but rarely one so enduring or one that includes avoiding each other."
+
+"Really, my dear, it is nothing," Hammered Silver said. "I was feeling unwell, and then I had a prior engagement."
+
+"And the meetings before?"
+
+Hammered Silver only looked out the window, expression blank, unreadable.
+
+"Hammered Silver," A Finger Pointing said gently, putting every ounce of gentle earnestness, soft coaxing, heartfelt concern into her voice that she could manage. "If you were feeling unwell, I wish that I had been able to in some way help."
+
+No answers were forthcoming.
+
+She ran through recent events in her mind and, finding nothing, began to run through events from months past, the last year.
+
+Ah.
+
+"This is about Motes, then?"
+
+The wrinkle that appeared dead center between Hammered Silver's eyebrows made a rather efficient reply.
+
+A Finger Pointing sighed. "Please, my dear. I would love to be able to address your concerns about Motes, but I cannot do so unless you tell me what they are."
+
+And so she did. She laid out several points about what she felt described Motes's behavior as inappropriate. The lack of children on the System. The existence of pedophilia. The accusations that Lagrange had been a haven for pedophiles. The reception that others who presented themselves as children had received. Point after point after point.
+
+They all boiled down to yet more of the same. Optics and optics and optics. Even True Name thought less about optics than Hammered Silver.
+
+The lunch date ran long and A Finger Pointing grew weary of discussing point after point after point, talking about optics and optics and optics. Even refuting these claims about the optics of the problem led to Hammered Silver admitting in essence that the core of the problem was that she did not like it. Simply did not enjoy it.
+
+In the end, Hammered Silver let out a frustrated sigh and said, "We may continue to meet, my friend, but only on the condition that we do not speak further of Motes."
+
+She blinked, taken aback. They had ever spoken of any and all things without holding aught back. At least, so far as she knew. "At all?" she asked.
+
+"At all," Hammered Silver confirmed. "For now."
+
+A Finger Pointing nodded stiffly, agreed, and scheduled the next lunch date.
 
 -----