From 0c2ae25b7755010c6e6b27cfb433f7c2f572c46c Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Sun, 4 Feb 2024 20:34:59 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html | 9 ++++----- 1 file changed, 4 insertions(+), 5 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html b/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html index 0b8af48aa..42afbb8ba 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html +++ b/writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.html @@ -94,8 +94,8 @@

Both Slow Hours and If I Dream nodded. No Odist had joined Artemis for its ongoing voyage.

“But ey is still b’tzelem Elohim, yes? Ey is still in the image of Adonai, yes? Ey is still human, even if ey is our world. Our world is b’tzelem Elohim, and we, b’tzelem Elohim, reside within em.” She smiled weakly. “Rav From Whence does not like it when I say these things, but that is what I feel when I am overflowing.”

“And that is what you are feeling now?” Slow Hours asked.

-

“No,” she said, once more sounding miserable. “If I do not feel ecstasy, I feel anguish. I feel…mm, I feel nullity. I feel nothing. I feel RJ and I think, “Ah my friend, my friend.” I do not see in em Adonai. I do not feel b’tzelem Elohim, I feel stupid. I feel…ah, I feel broken.”

-

“Because of the Century Attack?”

+

“No,” she said, once more sounding miserable. “If I do not feel ecstasy, I feel anguish. I feel…mm, I feel nullity. I feel nothing. I feel RJ and I think, “Ah my friend, my friend.” I do not see in em Adonai. I do not feel b’tzelem Elohim, I feel stupid. I feel…ah, I feel broken. I have been staying here, sleeping where I may be seen because I am afraid…ah, because I am so, so afraid that I will disappear, that I will crash and that no one will notice me. I fear that I will be forgotten and that…ohhh, I am talking in circles. I am thinking in circles, I am sorry.”

+

“It is okay,” Slow Hours said gently. “Do you think you are overflowing because of the Century Attack?”

The skunk whimpered and pushed herself quickly to her feet, pacing once more and shaking her paws out as though to dry them off. “I have been dreaming,” she mumbled, then jerked her head to the side with a quiet squeak. She continued more clearly. “I have been dreaming, here on the couch, out there in Infinite Café when…ah, when I fall asleep out there.”

Slow Hours tilted her head, sitting up straighter.

What Right Have I smiled faintly. “I have…ah, I am not the oracle that you are, my dear. I am no prophet.”

@@ -140,13 +140,12 @@

If I Dream nodded slowly. “Far be it from me to dispel what curtains keep despair from leading you after her. When I received her sensorium message, I nearly refused to attend out of protest. I think many of us saw the writing on the walls when we heard that uncertain steeliness in her voice.”

When I Dream winced, squirming tensely in her seat, right at the edge of the couch cushion. “It…ah…I mean, I struggled. I was there. We all were! But I struggled.”

The panther smiled faintly to her. “We all did, yes. Part of me felt that if any one of us did not go, then she would not quit. Another part was terrified I would be one of many who did not come, and that she would die feeling abandoned by her own family. If she was going to quit, and she wished to do so in the company of her clade…”

-

She trailed off and let her gaze wander down to the drink she still held in her paws. Blinking rapidly, the muscles on her cheeks and snout briefly became more prominent, as though she was doing her best to keep her expression placid, much as it had been throughout.

+

She trailed off and let her gaze wander down to the drink she still held in her paws. Blinking rapidly, the muscles on her cheeks and snout briefly became more prominent, as though she was doing her best to keep her expression placid, much as it had been throughout, though the tears leaving tracks in her cheekfur were impossible to hide.

Alarmed at the sudden shift in emotions, Slow Hours scooted a few inches closer to If I Dream, offering her hand just as the panther had done to What Right Have I before. She accepted with a grateful — if still wan — smile.

Slow Hours returned that smile, saying quietly, “That was the dream I had, you know. The premonition. An upwelling of joy and then an overflowing. She looked up to the sun, up to the RJ, and then they were one and the same, and it was all joy.”

What Right Have I burst into tears. She did not cry prettily, but very few people did. It was, however, a brief cry, and soon after she scooted back to the furthest limit of the cone of silence and drew her legs up onto the couch with her, growling as she did, “Slow Hours, you are the fucking worst.”

“I am the worst, yes,” she said, voice still quiet and calm. “But that is why I am choosing to believe that the premonition was true and why I am choosing to believe that she did find joy, or peace, or at least nothingness and freedom.”

-

“They both deserve to be together,” If I Dream eked out. “I hope your dreams were true, in the end.”

-

They settled together in silence but for the whispered murmurs of some prayer What Right Have I kept mostly to herself. Neither Slow Hours nor If I Dream were nearly so devout as the third stanza

+

“They both deserve to be together. I hope that that is where No Longer Myself is now. Where all of those lost are,” If I Dream eked out. “I hope your dreams were true, in the end.”