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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2023-12-19 15:35:11 -08:00
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writing/post-self/motes/001.html
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<p>Motes let the thought go as the topic was deftly changed. &ldquo;Nah, it is okay, I will stay here and see if Dry Grass wants to flop.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Flop and draw?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Or paint nails or chat or whatever. There is lots we can do.&rdquo;</p>
<p>With their final goodbyes and myriad kisses, Motes was left alone once more.</p>
<p>She cued up more music, quieter this time, then padded to the kitchen and started a sensorium message.</p>
<p><em>&ldquo;Dry Grass Dry Grass Dry Grass!&rdquo;</em></p>
<p>There was a moment&rsquo;s silence, a sense of laughter, and then, <em>&ldquo;Motes Motes Motes! How are you, skunklet?&rdquo;</em></p>
<p><em>&ldquo;Booored. Ma and Bee left to go to a pub or something with May and Ioan, and I felt like flopping instead,&rdquo;</em> she sent as she dug through the fridge &mdash; more a front-end to the exchange than anything. <em>&ldquo;They suggested I see if you were free if I got lonely.&rdquo;</em></p>
<p><em>&ldquo;And here you are, pinging me, yes.&rdquo;</em></p>
<p><em>&ldquo;Mmhm! Was going to make a food or two. Do you want some?&rdquo;</em></p>
<p>There was a sensation of a haughty frown from Dry Grass. <em>&ldquo;Are you allowed to be using the stove, my dear?&rdquo;</em></p>
<p>Motes sighed dramatically. <em>&ldquo;Fiiine, I will fork older.&rdquo;</em></p>
<p><em>&ldquo;Good girl,&rdquo;</em> came the response. <em>&ldquo;I have seen you catch yourself on fire before, and am not keen on a repeat of that.&rdquo;</em></p>
<p><em>&ldquo;That was</em> one <em>time!&rdquo;</em></p>
<p><em>&ldquo;I am told you are into a double digit number of times, Mote.&rdquo;</em></p>
<p>Motes snorted, pulled out frozen fries and nuggets from the exchange, as well as some macaroni and cheese &mdash; the good kind, baked in a casserole with panko on top; she still had taste, after all. <em>&ldquo;I am making fries and nuggets and maccy-chee,&rdquo;</em> she sent. On a whim, she also pulled out lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and radishes. <em>&ldquo;And a salad the size of my head.&rdquo;</em></p>
<p>Dry Grass laughed. <em>&ldquo;You had me at maccy-chee. Shall I come over now?&rdquo;</em></p>
<p><em>&ldquo;Yes, please!&rdquo;</em></p>
<p>No sooner had the message completed did Dry Grass blink into being on the default arrival point over by the front door.</p>
<!-- only ever doing this in private at first, friction from another stanza passed on through A Finger Pointing, the issues with leaning into a family dynamic -->
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