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<p>Motes played.</p>
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<p>Motes played.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she played hard. It was a Big Motes night. It was a human night. It was a night for hovering somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. It was a night for standing as tall as Beholden, as tall as so many of the other Odists, yet far more lithe. Tonight, she dressed up in her finest crepe-cotton blouse and gauzy skirt, and she braided for herself a fresh crown of flowers — marigolds, this time — grown by A Finger Curled and Beholden To The Music Of The Spheres.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she played hard. It was a Big Motes night. It was a human night. It was a night for hovering somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. It was a night for standing as tall as Beholden, as tall as so many of the other Odists, yet far more lithe. Tonight, she dressed up in her finest crepe-cotton blouse and gauzy skirt, and she braided for herself a fresh crown of flowers — marigolds, this time — grown by A Finger Curled and Beholden To The Music Of The Spheres.</p>
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<p>Tonight, Motes played in hedonism. A night at a restaurant out on the town, where she stuffed herself with two Chicago-style hot dogs. “Drag them through the garden!” she laughed — and she was always laughing — “Everything but the ketchup!” A night when she ate all of her fries, and even mopped up the last of the fry sauce with a fingertip.</p>
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<p>Tonight, Motes played in hedonism. A night at a restaurant out on the town, where she stuffed herself with two Chicago-style hot dogs. “Drag them through the garden!” She laughed — and she was always laughing. “Everything but the ketchup!” A night when she ate all of her fries, and even mopped up the last of the fry sauce with a fingertip.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she played drunk: a beer with the dogs, drinks made fizzy with champagne and sweet with floral liqueurs at a pop-up bar, then fruity drinks served in tall glasses with taller straws at the venue before the headliner started, the thump of the bass from the opener echoing up through her feet, pressing at her chest, leaving a warmth in her belly that verged on sensual. Tonight, between sets or whenever she felt like she needed a break, she would waft back to the bar and order a vodka soda or some other ridiculous drink meant more to hydrate than taste good.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she played drunk: a beer with the dogs, drinks made fizzy with champagne and sweet with floral liqueurs at a pop-up bar, then fruity drinks served in tall glasses with taller straws at the venue before the headliner started, the thump of the bass from the opener echoing up through her feet, pressing at her chest, leaving a warmth in her belly that verged on sensual. Tonight, between sets or whenever she felt like she needed a break, she would waft back to the bar and order a vodka soda or some other ridiculous drink meant more to hydrate than taste good.</p>
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<p>Tonight, Motes played as hard as ever, letting that warmth that was building low in her belly be her guide as she latched onto a dancing partner, a solidly built mustelid — an otter? A fisher? — of some sort who wound his way through the crowd in a fluid motion that was dancelike even when the music had stopped. It was a night for letting him dance closer and closer as the sets progressed, a night for letting him press a pill to her lips and beneath her tongue. It was a night for letting him push his whiskery muzzle up beneath her chin, letting him show her just how sharp his teeth were against her throat, for pressing close enough to feel just how thoroughly he shared in her excitement.</p>
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<p>Tonight, Motes played as hard as ever, letting that warmth that was building low in her belly be her guide as she latched onto a dancing partner, a solidly built mustelid of some sort — an otter? A fisher? — who wound his way through the crowd in a fluid motion that was dancelike even when the music had stopped. It was a night for letting him dance closer and closer as the sets progressed, a night for letting him press a pill to her lips and beneath her tongue. It was a night for letting him push his whiskery muzzle up beneath her chin, letting him show her just how sharp his teeth were against her throat, for pressing close enough to feel just how thoroughly he shared in her excitement.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she let him take her home. Tonight she let him pin her to the bed, paw on her shoulder and teeth on her throat. Tonight, she let him draw blood.</p>
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<p>Tonight, she let him take her home. Tonight she let him pin her to the bed, paw on her shoulder and teeth on her throat. Tonight, she let him draw blood.</p>
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<p>And then it was a night for sitting on his balcony and talking while the waves of whatever drug he’d given her continued to roll through her in languid pulses. “It is like someone is brushing the underside of my skin with satin in the best possible way,” she said, and he laughed.</p>
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<p>And then it was a night for sitting on his balcony and talking while the waves of whatever drug he’d given her continued to roll through her in languid pulses. “It is like someone is brushing the underside of my skin with satin in the best possible way,” she said, and he laughed.</p>
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<p>They sat and talked, legs dangling through the bars of the balcony’s railing over an impossibly high drop, her ears filled with the chatter of an impossible myriad of monkeys, startled from their slumber by their arrival, her eyes filled with the black and gold of an impossible city built into a cylinder. He pointed to a building in the distance down the length of the cylinder, told her how that one was all gardens, all flowers like those in her hair, now crushed lopsidedly from her forgetting to remove the crown when they’d fucked. He pointed up to the gentle golden glow in the sky, told her that the sun here was in a long, thin line, that it turned on from one end to the other so that one could see dawn coming from down the tube, could hear birdsong come on like a wave. He pointed from one end of the cylinder to another, the bounding walls marked by arcane symbols in neon, and explained that nearly half a billion people called this home, then laughed as she asked, “How many do you think are fucking right now?”</p>
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<p>They sat and talked, legs dangling through the bars of the balcony’s railing over an impossibly high drop, her ears filled with the chatter of an impossible myriad of monkeys some balconies earlier, startled from their slumber by their arrival, her eyes filled with the black and gold of an impossible city built into a cylinder. He pointed to a building in the distance down the length of the cylinder, told her how that one was filled all with gardens, all flowers like those in her hair, now crushed lopsidedly from her forgetting to remove the crown when they’d fucked. He pointed up to the gentle golden glow in the sky, told her that the sun here was in a long, thin line, that it turned on from one end to the other so that one could see dawn coming from down the tube, could hear birdsong come on like a wave, and then turned off in the same direction in a linear sunset. He pointed from one end of the cylinder to another, the bounding walls marked by arcane symbols in neon, and explained that nearly half a billion people called this home, then laughed as she asked, “How many do you think are fucking right now?”</p>
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<p>They added one to that number before they slept.</p>
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<p>They added one to that number before they slept.</p>
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<p>And in the morning, she woke pressed against him, limbs all wrapped together and the satiny subdermal waves of sensation still lingering. She dismissed it easily and slowly disentangled herself from the still sleeping otter-or-fisher-or-mink and started to pull stuff from the exchange for breakfast. Cold sliced meats and fish. Cold cheeses. Cold vegetables, fresh and pickled. Dense, nutty bread. Small pastries.</p>
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<p>And in the morning, she woke pressed against him, limbs all wrapped together and the satiny subdermal waves of sensation still lingering. She dismissed it easily and slowly disentangled herself from the still sleeping otter-or-fisher-or-mink and started to pull stuff from the exchange for breakfast. Cold, cured meats and fish. Cold cheeses. Cold vegetables, fresh and pickled. Dense, nutty bread. Small pastries.</p>
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<p>They sat on the balcony once more, out in the bright sun, and ate their breakfast together, talking of only the small things.</p>
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<p>They sat on the balcony once more, out in the bright sun, and ate their breakfast together, talking of only the small things.</p>
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<p>“Is this the type of thing where I get to know your name?” he asked at one point.</p>
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<p>“Is this the type of thing where I get to know your name?” he asked at one point.</p>
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<p>She leaned over to kiss his cheek and smiled dreamily. “Nope.”</p>
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<p>She leaned over to kiss his cheek and smiled dreamily. “Nope.”</p>
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<p>After breakfast: a shared shower, a few minutes of comfortable silence, a promise to never see each other again, a kiss, and one last bite to the shoulder “for luck”, leaving fresh stains of red on her blouse to join the ones from the night before.</p>
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<p>After breakfast: a shared shower, a few minutes of comfortable silence, a promise to never see each other again, a kiss, and one last piercing bite to the shoulder “for luck”, leaving fresh stains of red on her blouse to join the ones from the night before.</p>
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<p>With that, she stepped back to the theatre. It was early yet and there were no performances, and she hoped that there would be someone there to greet her, someone there to witness her coming home, disheveled and bloodied, rumpled with bent crown, looking pleased and sated. Play is magnified by being shared, yes, and witnessed. She wanted to be seen, marveled over or doted upon. She wanted her joy to be acknowledged.</p>
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<p>With that, she stepped back to the theatre. It was early yet and there were no performances, but she hoped that there would be someone there to greet her, someone there to witness her coming home, disheveled and bloodied, rumpled with bent crown, looking pleased and sated. Play is magnified by being shared, yes, and witnessed. She wanted to be seen, marveled over or doted upon. She wanted her joy to be acknowledged.</p>
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<p>Empty foyer.</p>
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<p>Empty foyer.</p>
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<p>Empty ticket booths.</p>
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<p>Empty ticket booths.</p>
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<p>Empty auditorium.</p>
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<p>Empty auditorium.</p>
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<p>Empty stage, but for one skunk, kneeling in the center with a clipboard and script laid out before her in a neat arc, a bank of three different colored highlighters resting in her lap.</p>
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<p>Empty stage, but for one skunk, kneeling in the center with a clipboard and script laid out before her in a neat arc, a bank of three different colored highlighters resting in her lap.</p>
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<p>Where so many of the clade had the stark contrast of black and white fur, hers was the warm brown of cinnamon with the pale cream of white chocolate. Where so many of the other skunks had black noses, black fur fading all but seamlessly before them, hers was far more pink, more easily seen twitching this way or that at some scent or another. Where so many of her family had long, poetic names, hers remained simple.</p>
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<p>Where so many of the clade had the stark contrast of black and white fur, hers was the warm brown of cinnamon with the pale cream of white chocolate. Where so many of the other skunks had black noses, black fur fading all but seamlessly before them, hers was far more pink, more easily seen twitching this way or that at some scent or another. Where so many of her family had long, poetic names, hers remained simple, a remnant of some more complicated past.</p>
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<p>Motes traipsed down the long, shallow steps of the auditorium aisles, all but skipping in that long-running afterglow. “Sasha!”</p>
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<p>Motes traipsed down the long, shallow steps of the auditorium aisles, all but skipping in that long-running afterglow. “Sasha!”</p>
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<p>Sasha lifted her head and squinted out into the relative darkness of the rows of seats, grinned, then sat up straighter, brow furrowing. “Motes, Jesus. What the hell happened to you?”</p>
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<p>Sasha lifted her head and squinted out into the relative darkness of the rows of seats, grinned, then sat up straighter, brow furrowing. “Motes, Jesus. What the hell happened to you?”</p>
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<p>Hiking herself up onto the stage, undignified, she plopped down into a cross-legged sit before Sasha. “A fun night out is what. There was an otter.”</p>
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<p>Hiking herself up onto the stage, undignified, she plopped down into a cross-legged sit before Sasha. “A fun night out is what. There was an otter.”</p>
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<p>Motes shimmied out of the blouse and folded it neatly, setting it on the stage before forking into her usual, smaller, soft-furred self once more. Younger, as well, back to that comfortable, comforting expression of youth. “Okay!” she said once she was done once more, rolling around to lay on her belly and poke her snout at one of the piles of paper. “What are you working on, anyway?”</p>
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<p>Motes shimmied out of the blouse and folded it neatly, setting it on the stage before forking into her usual, smaller, soft-furred self once more. Younger, as well, back to that comfortable, comforting expression of youth. “Okay!” she said once she was done once more, rolling around to lay on her belly and poke her snout at one of the piles of paper. “What are you working on, anyway?”</p>
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<p>Sasha smiled, tipped her clipboard forward to let the skunk see the stage diagram. “Blocking. Planning. Memorization.”</p>
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<p>Sasha smiled, tipped her clipboard forward to let the skunk see the stage diagram. “Blocking. Planning. Memorization.”</p>
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<p>“Scheming!”</p>
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<p>“Scheming!”</p>
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<p>She laughed. “Well, perhaps that as well. Scheming about dinner. Scheming about coming home to Aurel.”</p>
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<p>She laughed. “Well, perhaps that as well. Scheming about dinner. Scheming about coming home to Aurel. Scheming and dreaming.”</p>
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<p>Motes nodded, carefully turning around one of the piles to read a few lines from the script before setting it back in place. She kicked her legs lazily in the air above her, feeling her tail brush against them. It was all part of the ritual of settling back into being a skunk, in leaning intentionally back into her presented age — somewhere around twelve, today.</p>
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<p>Motes nodded, carefully turning around one of the piles to read a few lines from the script before setting it back in place. She kicked her legs lazily in the air above her, feeling her tail brush against them. It was all part of the ritual of settling back into being a skunk — this engagement with fur, these childlike acts — in leaning intentionally back into her presented age — somewhere around twelve, today.</p>
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<p>She was startled back to awareness by Sasha’s voice. “What are you thinking about, little skunk?”</p>
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<p>She was startled back to awareness by Sasha’s voice. “What are you thinking about, little skunk?”</p>
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<p>“Mm?”</p>
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<p>“Mm?”</p>
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<p>“You seemed deep in thought.” She smiled faintly. “Or perhaps blissfully without.”</p>
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<p>“You seemed deep in thought.” She smiled faintly. “Or perhaps blissfully without.”</p>
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<p>After nearly a minute of silence, Sasha said, “Years back, centuries ago, Jonas started a project of making intraclade relationships taboo. It was a measured process intended to keep <em>something</em> taboo while the rest of the System settled into a comfortable non-normativity — or even queer normativity — on most other relationship and identity fronts.” Another pause, and then, “Well, and because he was setting me up with May in the form of Zacharias to gain leverage.”</p>
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<p>After nearly a minute of silence, Sasha said, “Years back, centuries ago, Jonas started a project of making intraclade relationships taboo. It was a measured process intended to keep <em>something</em> taboo while the rest of the System settled into a comfortable non-normativity — or even queer normativity — on most other relationship and identity fronts.” Another pause, and then, “Well, and because he was setting me up with May in the form of Zacharias to gain leverage.”</p>
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<p>“Gross.”</p>
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<p>“Gross.”</p>
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<p>“Very gross. I am glad to be quit of him, even if there are times that I miss the work. All of that to say that Hammered Silver bought into that hook, line, and sinker. She truly believed that it is some horrible taboo to get in a relationship — romantic or familial — within one’s own clade.”</p>
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<p>“Very gross. I am glad to be quit of him, even if there are times that I miss the work. All of that to say that Hammered Silver bought into that hook, line, and sinker. She truly believed that it is some horrible taboo to get in a relationship — romantic or familial — within one’s own clade.”</p>
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<p>“But she is!” Motes protested. “She is in a relationship with Waking World!”</p>
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<p>“But <em>she</em> is!” Motes protested. “She is in a relationship with Waking World!”</p>
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<p>Sasha snorted. “Do not let her hear you say that. She would say that she is not, that it is a partnership, it is two actors playing their parts: she, the mother; him, the father. Dad jokes and all.” She winked conspiratorially, adding, “Though I am not sure that Waking World would agree with her. I think he very much thinks of himself as her husband, of the both of them as very much in love with each other.”</p>
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<p>Sasha snorted. “Do not let her hear you say that. She would say that she is not, that it is a partnership, it is two actors playing their parts: she, the mother; him, the father. Dad jokes and all. They are roles in a long-running production.” She winked conspiratorially, adding, “Though I am not sure that Waking World would agree with her. I think he very much thinks of himself as her husband, of the both of them as very much in love with each other.”</p>
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<p>Motes furrowed her brow in concentration. “She does not make any sense,” she said. “She hates ma and Bee for dating and hates me for being their daughter or whatever, and then she marries Waking World?”</p>
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<p>Motes furrowed her brow in concentration. “She does not make any sense,” she said. “She hates ma and Bee for dating and hates me for being their daughter and all the others my siblings or whatever, and then she marries Waking World?”</p>
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<p>“Perhaps her performance so convincing that she is fooling us all. Perhaps she is simply fooling herself.”</p>
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<p>“Perhaps her performance so convincing that she is fooling us all. Perhaps she is simply fooling herself.”</p>
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<p>She scoffed. “Probably the second!”</p>
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<p>She scoffed. “Probably the second!”</p>
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<p>“Almost certainly,” Sasha said, ruffling Motes’s mane affectionately. “But it is fine. I have not spoken with her in more than a decade.”</p>
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<p>“Almost certainly,” Sasha said, ruffling Motes’s mane affectionately. “But it is fine. I have not spoken with her in more than a decade.”</p>
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<p>“She is a lovely person, in her own way,” Sasha said gently, then added, “Which is a bitch, yes.”</p>
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<p>“She is a lovely person, in her own way,” Sasha said gently, then added, “Which is a bitch, yes.”</p>
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<p>The smaller skunk giggled helplessly, slouching down until she was able to use Sasha’s thigh as a pillow. “Okay, but why does she hate ma, though? She is, like…the nicest person in the whole world.”</p>
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<p>The smaller skunk giggled helplessly, slouching down until she was able to use Sasha’s thigh as a pillow. “Okay, but why does she hate ma, though? She is, like…the nicest person in the whole world.”</p>
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<p>“She really is, at least to us, but she is also uncompromising to her very core. She stood up for herself and Beholden, she stood up for you as you are, she stood up for your dynamic as a family–” Sasha took a deep breath through gritted teeth. “And she stood up for me, for which I am endlessly appreciative, and endlessly frustrated that she should have cause to.”</p>
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<p>“She really is, at least to us, but she is also uncompromising to her very core. She stood up for herself and Beholden, she stood up for you as you are, she stood up for your dynamic as a family–” Sasha took a deep breath through gritted teeth. “And she stood up for me, for which I am endlessly appreciative, and endlessly frustrated that she should have cause to.”</p>
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<p>“So Hammered Silver is upset that ma has principles,” Motes said flatly. “Okay. Got it. Good good good. Wonderful.”</p>
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<p>“So Hammered Silver is upset that ma has principles,” Motes said flatly. “Okay. Got it. Good good, good good good good. Wonderful.”</p>
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<p>She laughed. “Yes, apparently. A Finger Pointing had some tense meetings with Hammered Silver early on when it became clear — at least within the clade — that she and Beholden were in a relationship, but that tenseness became the norm when you started to poke your little snout–” She tapped at Motes’s nose-tip, getting a giggle. “–out into the world, which led to a tacit agreement that they were essentially just meeting up to collect data on their respective stanzas, and then only when A Finger Pointing agreed not to talk about you.”</p>
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<p>She laughed. “Yes, apparently. A Finger Pointing had some tense meetings with Hammered Silver early on when it became clear — at least within the clade — that she and Beholden were in a relationship, but that tenseness became the norm when you started to poke your little snout–” She tapped at Motes’s nose-tip, getting a giggle. “–out into the world, which led to a tacit agreement that they were essentially just meeting up to collect data on their respective stanzas, and then only when A Finger Pointing agreed not to talk about you.”</p>
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<p>Motes fell silent for a long minute, then two, and eventually rolled onto the other side so that she could bury her face against Sasha’s side. “Well, that makes me feel like garbage,” she mumbled.</p>
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<p>Motes fell silent for a long minute, then two, and eventually rolled onto the other side so that she could bury her face against Sasha’s side. “Well, that makes me feel like garbage,” she mumbled.</p>
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<p>“Hush, little skunk,” Sasha said gently. “That is between A Finger Pointing and Hammered Silver. A Finger Pointing had to make a tactical decision: maintain contact with the clade, be the glue that binds so many of us together, keep tabs on Hammered Silver and her ilk; or tell Hammered Silver to kick rocks, she was going to talk about her Dot as much as she damn well pleased. Tactically, she chose to agree to not pass on information about you. Strategically, this gained her a better sense of the sixth — and, to a lesser extent, the seventh — stanza.”</p>
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<p>“Hush, little skunk,” Sasha said gently. “That is between A Finger Pointing and Hammered Silver. A Finger Pointing had to make a tactical decision: maintain contact with the clade, be the glue that binds so many of us together, keep tabs on Hammered Silver and her ilk; or tell Hammered Silver to kick rocks, she was going to talk about her Dot as much as she damn well pleased. Tactically, she chose to agree to not pass on information about you. Strategically, this gained her a better sense of the sixth — and, to a lesser extent, the seventh — stanza.”</p>
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<p>Sasha laughed, forking another instance to take Motes by the paw, letting her down-tree continue working. “I am sorry that this topic has been nipping at your heels these last few days, little skunk. I have probably shared more than A Finger Pointing may have wished, but she and I will talk, and you will get your pizza or burger or pizza-burger and talk about things at your own pace, dear.</p>
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<p>Sasha laughed, forking another instance to take Motes by the paw, letting her down-tree continue working. “I am sorry that this topic has been nipping at your heels these last few days, little skunk. I have probably shared more than A Finger Pointing may have wished, but she and I will talk, and you will get your pizza or burger or pizza-burger and talk about things at your own pace, dear.</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2024-01-05</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2024-01-06</p>
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