update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/motes/007.html

@@ -88,7 +88,11 @@
 <hr />
 <p>Letter after letter, topic after topic. They became rote. They became routine. They became a signature of Hammered Silver after every little decision that A Finger Pointing made which did not meet her standards. Every little decision that <em>anyone</em> made, if what True Name and Praiseworthy had to say was true.</p>
 <p>And it was not just her, after all, was it?</p>
-<p>For better or worse, she was the representative of her stanza. She was a synecdoche for it: she <em>was</em> the fifth stanza.
+<p>For better or worse, she was the representative of her stanza. She was a synecdoche for it: she <em>was</em> the fifth stanza. Anything that the stanza did, whether as a whole or individually, she would hear about through those tetchy letters, those little missives Hammered Silver saw fit to send her. </p>
+<p>A note here: <em>Surely The Only Constant can find some less dramatic way to depict death on stage; has ey no thought for how that might reflect on the rest of us as so public a clade?</em></p>
+<p>A message there: <em>Beholden To The Flow Of The Crowds was seen punching someone at The Party. I would ask that you inform her of our standards of behavior.</em></p>
+<p>It became something of a joke — granted, mostly to herself, for she rarely shared any of these messages with others. Even True Name thought less of optics than Hammered Silver. Even the politician!</p>
+<p>And yet their apparent friendship continued.
 ((the past: Motes))</p>
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 <p>((bitterness and compromises with Dry Grass))</p>