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<h1>Zk | 2019-10-02-sariya</h1>
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<p>date: 2019-10-02
title: "Inktober 2019 #2 - Story and poem courtesy of Sariya"</p>
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<p><a href="/blog/inktober/2019-10-02.jpg.html"><img alt="inks" src="/blog/inktober/2019-10-02.jpg" /></a></p>
<h3 id="the-europan">The Europan</h3>
<p>Dim light of distant suns.</p>
<p>Salt-slush of silent seas.</p>
<p>Gravity: a tension of sorts, tidal.</p>
<p>Deep vents, temperature gradients, hot, cold, hot, cold hot.</p>
<p>Fermentation. Combustion. Digestion.</p>
<p>It had so many ways to keep going, to stay powered, to stay alive. All those failsafes and backups, redundancies well into the double digits. Piezos, catalytics, photovoltaics, turbines, even a very efficient stomach, all in perfect working order, all ready to snap into action.</p>
<p>And yet it still prefered the dim light of distant suns to remind it why.</p>
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<div class="verse">The eighteenth whisker on the left is brown.
I know this after countless nights awake
beside you, watching every quiet breath.
You puff your whiskers out on every yawn.
On longer work-filled days, your whiskers wilt,
exhaustion softening your features, sleep
exerting subtle gravities to lead
you to oneiric seas and dreamlike sands.
I know this after countless nights awake.
I know, I know, it's strange to watch you sleep,
but when I can't, to know that someone can...
at least it somehow lets me rest in turn.
When I lay beside your sleeping form
I know there's rest to still be had for me.</div>
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<p>Page generated on 2020-04-24</p>
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