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<p>She forked into Big Motes and straightened her hair and blouse, set a well-remembered dandelion flower crown atop her head, and made her way out to the rest of the house.</p>
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<p>She forked into Big Motes and straightened her hair and blouse, set a well-remembered dandelion flower crown atop her head, and made her way out to the rest of the house.</p>
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<p>There was silence there, and emptiness. There was the place to herself in the warm sunlight of a late morning, some three days after first she fell on the playground. There was the comfort of familiarity set beside a hollow feeling in her chest.</p>
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<p>There was silence there, and emptiness. There was the place to herself in the warm sunlight of a late morning, some three days after first she fell on the playground. There was the comfort of familiarity set beside a hollow feeling in her chest.</p>
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<p>Adjusting to a view of the world a few feet higher than it had been some seconds ago, she made her way to the kitchen and poked around. It did not feel like a day for some sugary cereal, nor the cinnamon-sugar toast that she had always loved. It was a day for coffee and something savory and filling. Perhaps a day for a mimosa.</p>
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<p>Adjusting to a view of the world a few feet higher than it had been some seconds ago, she made her way to the kitchen and poked around. It did not feel like a day for some sugary cereal, nor the cinnamon-sugar toast that she had always loved. It was a day for coffee and something savory and filling. Perhaps a day for a mimosa.</p>
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<p><em>An adult breakfast,</em> a part of her whispered. <em>Setting aside childish things…</em></p>
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<p>She shook her head to dispel the lingering thought, one based in overflow rather than her current mood.</p>
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<p>And so she pulled out a couple of eggs, a few links of chicken sausage, and a dish of frozen hash browns. On a whim, she also pulled out a few large tortillas and some green chili salsa that she — that much of the clade — remembered fondly from her time back phys-side, back when she lived in the central corridor. She may as well go all out, yes?</p>
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<p>And so she pulled out a couple of eggs, a few links of chicken sausage, and a dish of frozen hash browns. On a whim, she also pulled out a few large tortillas and some green chili salsa that she — that much of the clade — remembered fondly from her time back phys-side, back when she lived in the central corridor. She may as well go all out, yes?</p>
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<p>The hash browns were the first to go in the pan, laid out in an even layer so that they could crisp up, while two more pans were dreamed up so that she could cook the sausage and eggs meanwhile.</p>
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<p>The hash browns were the first to go in the pan, laid out in an even layer so that they could crisp up, while two more pans were dreamed up so that she could cook the sausage and eggs meanwhile.</p>
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<p>Definitely a morning for a mimosa.</p>
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<p>Definitely a morning for a mimosa.</p>
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<p>She downed half of her mimosa in one go before setting that aside and focusing on her first burrito, each bite topped with a generous spoonful of the salsa until she was left nearly in tears. The rest of the mimosa and a few sips of her coffee, and then the second burrito, similarly doctored.</p>
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<p>She downed half of her mimosa in one go before setting that aside and focusing on her first burrito, each bite topped with a generous spoonful of the salsa until she was left nearly in tears. The rest of the mimosa and a few sips of her coffee, and then the second burrito, similarly doctored.</p>
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<p>It was some time later — she did not know how long nor care to check, though her coffee mug was empty — before Beholden and A Finger Pointing returned, talking quietly about lunch. On seeing her awake and cognizant, the empty dishes on the table, they both smiled and changed course to settle down on either side of her.</p>
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<p>It was some time later — she did not know how long nor care to check, though her coffee mug was empty — before Beholden and A Finger Pointing returned, talking quietly about lunch. On seeing her awake and cognizant, the empty dishes on the table, they both smiled and changed course to settle down on either side of her.</p>
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<p>“Glad to see you up and about, Dot,” Beholden said, briefly touching her nosetip to Motes’s cheek in an affectionate skunk-kiss. “We got the ping that you were, thus lunch here rather than out, but it is nice to see you all the same.”</p>
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<p>“Glad to see you up and about, Dot,” Beholden said, briefly touching her nosetip to Motes’s cheek in an affectionate skunk-kiss. “We got the ping that you were, thus lunch here rather than out, but it is nice to see you all the same.”</p>
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<p>Bookending her with a similar — though far more human — kiss to her ther cheek, A </p>
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<p>Bookending her with a similar — though far more human — kiss to herother cheek, A Finger Pointing said, “It really is. Are you feeling better, my dear? Please say yes.”</p>
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<p>Motes laughed and waited until each was finished before returning the cheek kisses to her cocladists. “I am, mostly. I still have a lot on my mind, but I am no longer buried beneath it.” She nodded towards the plates, adding, “I already ate before you got here. I am not sorry.”</p>
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<p>“Nor should you be!” A Finger Pointing scoffed. “I would be disappointed if you had not.”</p>
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<p>She laughed. “Of course you would be. You really set up the sim to ping you when I woke?”</p>
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<p>“Just a few things — your door opening, something being done in the kitchen or at the bar, that sort of thing — so that we would know while we were out.”</p>
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<p>“She was worried,” Beholden stage-whispered. “You should have seen her brighten when she got the notification you were in the kitchen.”</p>
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<p>“Beholden was <em>so</em> worried,” A Finger Pointing said, voice bearing all the drama of some overwrought Shakespearean performer. She spoke loudly, pretending as though she had not heard Beholden, that the skunk was not even there. “I do not know if you noticed while you were down and out, my dear, but I swear, that skunk checked on you at <em>least</em> once an hour.”</p>
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<p>“She about started crying,” Beholden continued, smirk on her muzzle.</p>
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<p>“”Beholden, you <em>know</em> that she will pull through,” I kept saying. “She <em>always</em> does.” You are stronger than your silly cocladist, Dot, are you not?”</p>
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<p>“She was so rude, cutting off a conversation with Sasha mid-sentence and rushing us back here, putting on her most nonchalant act.”</p>
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<p>Motes laughed as they both scoffed at each other, looping her arms through each of theirs and slouching down, settling into the comfort of touch and family. “You are both nerds,” she murmured. “Thank you for keeping an eye out for me.”</p>
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<p>“Of course, my dear,” they said in unison. A Finger Pointing continued, “Motes, did you leave any champagne for the rest of us? I would not say no to a Bellini.”</p>
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<p>“Another mimosa for me, Beholden,” Motes added.</p>
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<p>Laughing, the skunk gave her one more of those nose-dot kisses before disentangling herself to see to drinks.</p>
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<p>“How are you really, Motes?” A Finger Pointing asked, voice lowered less, it seemed, to keep her words from Beholden than to soften the mood. “We need not talk in detail now, but I do wish to know.”</p>
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<p>“Okay,” she said. “Tender, I guess. Sore, maybe? I am not feeling bad, but I am not yet feeling good. I am feeling like the slightest bump with leave me with a bruise.”</p>
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<p>Her cocladist nodded. “I imagine so. Are you up to speaking about what happened?”</p>
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<p>She nodded. “A little bit. I will let you know if I need to bow out.”</p>
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<p>“Of course.” A Finger Pointing took a deep breath, composing herself. “Hammered Silver sent me a letter. She mentioned in it that she had sent you one as well.”</p>
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<p>Motes wilted.</p>
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<p>“Yes, I imagine that is much of why you were left overflowing.” When Motes nodded, she continued, “I am sorry, my dear. Is that also why you are Big Motes now?”</p>
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<p>The answer was a long time coming, the silence filled with the gentle tink of glasses as Beholden mixed their late lunch cocktails, carrying them carefully back to the couch and handing them out so that she could rejoin.</p>
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<p>“Yeah,” Motes said at last. “At least, I think so. It was something that I did almost on a whim. I knew I wanted to be Big Motes, or at least that I was not ready to be Little Motes yet. Been thinking about that all morning.”</p>
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<p>Beholden finished tasting her drink, nodded appreciatively, then asked, “Have you come to any conclusions?”</p>
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<p>“I think so,” she said, looking down at her mimosa. Beholden had topped it with a maraschino cherry poked through with a cocktail umbrella. There was a warmth of adoration starting to fill hat hollow space in her chest. “I am not going to stop playing, not going to stop being her, but…but that really fucking hurt, and I need to know what to do with that pain before I reengage with that, you know?”</p>
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<p>Letting her free arm dangle over the arm of the couch, glass held by the rim, A Finger Pointing tucked her own cocktail umbrella into Motes’s hair, adding a wheel of bright pink to the yellow of the dandelions before draping her arm around her cocladist’s shoulder. “That does make sense, yes. That was one of my worries, even: that this would leave you too wounded to reengage with that part of you that has been so important over the years.”</p>
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<p>Motes shook her head gently so as not to dislodge crown or umbrella.</p>
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<p>“Good. You are allowed to be Big Motes for a bit while you process this. You are allowed to hold back on all sorts of interactions. I have noticed a lack of ‘ma’ or ‘Bee’– no, no. No need to explain, just an observation. These are things that we will miss and then rejoice when they return.”</p>
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<p>She slouched against A Finger Pointing and hugged around her chest, careful not to spill her drink. “Thank you, my dear. I really do appreciate it. I will get there, too, for all of that. Just…not yet. Not quite yet.”</p>
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<p>Beholden smiled, reaching out to brush some of her curls away from her face, added, “Yeah. And if you need us to lay off calling you ‘Dot’, I am sure–”</p>
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<p>“Absolutely not,” Motes said, laughing. “I would not have you change your ways just because I am feeling icky for a bit.”</p>
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<p>“It is an offer, Motes,” the skunk chided gently. “Not some weird obligation for us.”</p>
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<p>Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. “Alright. I think my answer still stands, though. I like it when you call me that, even when I am Big Motes. I do not imagine…well, no. I am <em>sure</em> this will not last longer than two weeks. That is the deadline I have given myself to process this.”</p>
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<p>“Of course, Dot,” A Finger Pointing said, tightening her grip in a squeeze before gently nudging her to sit back upright. “With this of all things, there will be more than enough processing to fill that time. The situation has…resolved itself while you were sleeping, but even that resolution is complicated.”</p>
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<p>“Oh?”</p>
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<p>She nodded. “Are you alright to talk about it? I do not know that even Beholden knows the full extent of what happened.”</p>
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<p>The skunk shook her head.</p>
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<p>Despite the already warm feeling in her belly from the first mimosa, Motes quickly finished her second in a few gulps. “Then sure,” she said, laughing at the burp that followed. “Hit me.”</p>
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<p>Beholden punched her gently on the shoulder before taking her empty glass and setting it on the table in front of them.</p>
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<p>The full story of what had happened over the last few days between A Finger Pointing and Hammered Silver was laid bare over the next hour. Not just that, but much of their story going back into the past as well. Both Beholden and Motes were left with more than a few questions. Over the last few years, their down-tree instance had opened up more and more about how much she had shielded the stanza from the political machinations of the rest of the clade around them, all of the ways in which she had strived to protect them, and yet more of this became clear as she spoke about all of the fuss that Hammered Silver had made over the years.</p>
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<p>When she finished and all questions had been answered or deferred, they fell into silence for a long few minutes, the three of them just digesting the last few days each in their own way.</p>
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<p>Finally, Motes huffed and flopped back against the couch. “What a fucking bitch.”</p>
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<p>“Dot, language,” Beholden scolded, laughing.</p>
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<p>“Fuck fuck fuck,” she said, grinning wildly. “Bitch bitch bitch! You can yell at Little Motes.”</p>
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<p>“No, she is right, my muse,” A Finger Pointing said. “Fucking bitch.”</p>
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</article>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2024-01-12</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2024-01-12</p>
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