The skunk bowed briefly and then let her gaze drift briefly around the kitchen, unseeing, while she sent her question via sensorium message. It took all of thirty seconds before she returned her focus to A Finger Pointing and Dry Grass, smiling. “More than just a no, When I Dream let me hear eir laughter at the very idea. You are quite safe from that.”
The others both sighed, then laughed at the shared relief.
“Thank you, my dear,” Dry Grass said, reaching out to rest a hand on the skunk’s forearm. “That is incredibly helpful. We may still wish to ask Waking World — if he will still speak with us, that is — but that does mean a lot.”
-Sasha smiled and patted the back of that hand. “Of course. If I am able to soothe your worries any further, I will do so. This is, I must say, fucking bullshit.” -((Sasha and Dry Grass))
+Sasha smiled and patted the back of that hand. “Of course. If I am able to soothe your worries any further, I will do so. This is, I must say, fucking bullshit.”
To fall in love with a cocladist is to engage in a radical form of self-love. To fall in love with a cocladist is to find a way that perhaps you are your type. To fall in love with a cocladist is to accept that you are large; you contain multitudes. To fall in love with your cocladist is to recognize that your hyperfixations define, in part, your sense of self, and that if you expand beyond one, then perhaps you are more than just one self.
A Finger Pointing forked all nine of her up-tree instances in systime 3, back in the early days when it still cost to fork. She had plans, though, and she had a way around those costs. She forked once, leaving her and her new instance with half of her original reputation, less than it would cost to fork again, and then her new instance simply granted the reputation back to her, enough to fork once more. She had a way around those costs, for in those days, back before the reputation market had patched out that particular glitch, her up-tree instances did not need reputation beyond hers. She had plans. She had ideas for her particular joy. She would lean into theatre, build up a troupe made up of just herself, for surely there were ten roles that needed to be filled in running a theatre.
@@ -286,7 +285,7 @@ This was bullshit, patented and trademarked, registered as a copyright and serviShe lay there until she felt Motes slowly relax beneath her arm, heard her breathing slow, and then for a while after.