diff --git a/writing/post-self/neviim/remote/codrin/007.html b/writing/post-self/neviim/remote/codrin/007.html index e311e7fa4..e5c56c17d 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/neviim/remote/codrin/007.html +++ b/writing/post-self/neviim/remote/codrin/007.html @@ -37,7 +37,7 @@

“We were told–” Sarah began, before Answers Will Not Help cut her off.

“Prophets! Oh, where is Ezekiel when we need him? A meeting of prophets! Navi to nevi’im! The voice of God from the sky in a pillar of flame! Or Qoheleth, a prophet of our own blood, bearing warning of memory entrancing!” Her words came out in an unceasing torrent. She waved her hand/paw toward the Artemisians, giggling. “But instead we are Israel to nevi’im, a people to prophets, a people to prophets, a people with our own personal HaShem, and the only time I know my true name is when I dream, and to know one’s true name is to know God. Time feels so vast that were it not for an Eternity— Fuck, I…time makes prey of remembering, I…I fear me this Circumference engross my Finity— Oh AwDae, oh AwDae. Could you ever have guessed at the depths of the death of memory?”

True Name stood quickly enough to knock her chair back and, with a decisive wash of skunk down her form, growled, “How fucking dare–“

-

The rest of the delegation pressed away from her with a shout. The firstracers rose up to their full height and Iska blurred quickly to stand atop their stool.

+

The rest of the delegation pressed away from her with a shout. The firstracers rose up to their full height and Iska blurred quickly to stand atop their stool, shouting, “Iha!“

“To his exclusion who prepare by process of Size…of…” Answers Will Not Help continued, unfazed. She was phasing in and out of common time now, despite the promise of unison. Her words jittering now fast, now slow. “I cannot feel em here. We are so far away from home. I cannot…I miss em, I miss em. I miss…was that eir prophecy? Was that why ey wrote me? Is this AwDae’s words come true?”

“Stop!” True Name shouted, tackling the blurring, crumbling form of Answers Will Not Help to the ground. “Fucking stop! You cannot–“

After a moment’s tussle, Answers Will Not Help collapsed to the ground, limp and laughing, retching, crying. “For the Stupendous Vision of eir diameters—” she said, and then quit, leaving True Name to fall to the ground, weeping.