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update from sparkleup

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Madison Rye Progress 2024-10-03 22:03:08 -07:00
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writing/post-self/scientist-subject.md
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@ -20,7 +20,7 @@ There was terror because Motes — this Motes — knew what lay in the future fo
If she were unlucky, if she were not at the top of her game...well, no one knew. Not even In The Wind, who knew more about this stuff than just about anyone, knew what lay in store for a cladist whose body died in the Rift without them merging back down. Would they still be able to quit with some glimmer of consciousness? Or would they haunt the dreaming world, here, their spirit unalive, yet unable to die?
And there was excitement because this was her game. This was her play. This was the way in which she dove ever deeper into knowing her true self. She had ever done so, sys-side (much to Beholden's chatting), but this unknowable fact here kept her from digging too much into those same feelings. *No one,* she had heard nearly all of her cocladists say, *wants to bury a body. No one wants to bury a child.* She loved them all too much to put them through that.
And there was excitement because this was her game. This was her play. This was the way in which she dove ever deeper into knowing her true self. She had ever done so, sys-side (much to Beholden's chagrin), but this unknowable fact here kept her from digging too much into those same feelings. *No one,* she had heard nearly all of her cocladists say, *wants to bury a body. No one wants to bury a child.* She loved them all too much to put them through that.
But as the days dragged on, the excitement waned and the terror lifted. There was a brief phase of curiosity, of wonderment and exploration, but even this failed, and now she was just tired.