36 lines
3.0 KiB
HTML
36 lines
3.0 KiB
HTML
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<!doctype html>
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<html>
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<head>
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<title>Zk | 002</title>
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Gentium+Plus&family=Lato&family=Ubuntu+Monodisplay=swap" />
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<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="/style.css" />
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" />
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<meta charset="utf-8" />
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</head>
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<body>
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<main>
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<header>
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<h1>Zk | 002</h1>
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</header>
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<article class="content">
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<p>Motes played.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she played hard. Tonight, she was big Motes. Tonight, she was human. Tonight, she hovered somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. Tonight, she stood as tall as Beholden, as tall as so many of the other Odists, yet far more lithe. Tonight, she dressed up in her finest crepe-cotton blouse and gauzy skirt. Tonight, she braided for herself a fresh crown of flowers — marigolds, today — grown by A Finger Curled and Beholden To The Music Of The Spheres.</p>
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<p>Tonight, Motes played at a restaurant out on the town, where she stuffed herself with two Chicago-style hot dogs. “Drag them through the garden!” she laughed — and she was always laughing — “Everything but the ketchup!” Tonight, she ate all of her fries, and even mopped up the last of the fry sauce with a fingertip.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she drank hard: a beer with the dogs, drinks made fizzy with champagne and sweet with floral liqueurs at a pop-up bar, then fruity drinks served in tall glasses with taller straws at the venue before the headliner started, the thump of the bass from the opener echoing up through her feet, pressing at her chest, leaving a warmth in her belly that verged on sexual. Tonight, between sets or whenever she felt like she needed a break, she would waft back to the bar and order a vodka soda or some other ridiculous drink meant more to hydrate than taste good.</p>
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<p>Tonight, Motes played as hard as ever, letting that warmth that was building low in her belly be her guide as she latched onto a dancing partner, an otter of some sort who wound his way through the crowd in a fluid motion that was dancelike even when the music had stopped. Tonight, she let him dance closer and closer as the sets progressed. Tonight, she let him press his whiskery muzzle up beneath her chin, let him show her just how sharp his teeth were against her throat. Tonight, she pressed close enough to feel just how thoroughly he shared in her excitement.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she let him take her home. Tonight, she let him draw blood.</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2023-12-25</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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<script type="text/javascript">
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document.querySelectorAll('.tag').forEach(tag => {
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let text = tag.innerText;
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tag.innerText = '';
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tag.innerHTML = `<a href="/tags.html#${text}">${text}</a>`;
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});
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</script>
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</body>
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</html>
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