update from sparkleup
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Madison Scott-Clary
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<h1>Zk | 001</h1>
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<article class="content">
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<h1 id="codrin-balangreen-2325">Codrin Balan#Green — 2325</h1>
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<h1 id="codrin-balangreen-2325">Codrin Bălan#Green — 2325</h1>
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<p>After their “deaths”, such as they were, Dear cackled madly and ran about the still roaring bonfire, prancing and leaping, forking dozens of copies as it went. Its sim had been set up in the Launch Systems, both Green and Blue precisely as it had in the L<sub>5</sub> System, down to all of the decorations and flames. As soon as they had transferred themselves over to those systems — something which they had been told would take several minutes across the micro-Ansibles connecting the three systems, but which was as subjectively instantaneous as any normal transit — they were alone. The crowd was gone, the singing was gone, and any chance of reversibility had gone with. There was no way that Codrin or Dear or Dear’s partner could ever return, as the transit was one-way.</p>
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<p><em>“It is done! It is done!</em> the fox hollered. <em>“It is done and those poor saps did not even get to finish their song! Oh, to see their faces! Crumbling sim, friends forever cut off!”</em></p>
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<p>Dear’s partner also laughed, eventually hopping to their feet and chasing after the fox in a mad dash, leaving Codrin to sit and smile and watch and think.</p>
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<p>They slept.</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-08-23</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-08-24</p>
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</footer>
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<p>“Of course! Would not miss it for the world. Besides, I am one of the honored guests, right?”</p>
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<p>Codrin smiled. “We’ve only invited honored guests.”</p>
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<p><em>“Of course! And here come more.”</em></p>
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<p>For the next hour, the chime of arrival was nearly constant as guests upon guests arrived. Much of the Ode Clade showed, though Ioan noted that some of the more conservative members were absent, grudges remaining even to this day. Michelle Hadje herself, the root instance, arrived shortly after May Then My Name, all smiles and bows. Of all the clade, who had arrived, she was one of the few who appeared in human form.</p>
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<p>Ioan had only met her once before, shortly after this whole plan had been set into motion. She was unfailingly kind, though if madness rode the whole of the Ode Clade, it seemed to affect her deeper than the rest, and she was often taken by long silences, sometimes in the middle of sentences. During these, she lost coherence, her form rippling and changing, waves of skunk rolling down her form, followed by equally tumultuous waves of her usual human self. These spells would last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes, and even after they were quelled and the conversation resumed, afterimages of mephitidine muzzle and ears would ghost suddenly into place and just as quickly disappear.</p>
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<p>For the next hour, the chime of arrival was nearly constant as guests upon guests arrived. Much of the Ode Clade showed, though Ioan noted that some of the more conservative members were absent, grudges remaining even to this day. Michelle Hadje herself, the root instance, was notably absent, and a tug of still-unprocessed emotions pulled at the insides of eir chest.</p>
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<p>Ioan had only met her once before, shortly before this whole plan had been set into motion. She was unfailingly kind, though if madness rode the whole of the Ode Clade, it seemed to affect her deeper than the rest, and she was often taken by long silences, sometimes in the middle of sentences. During these, she lost coherence, her form rippling and changing, waves of skunk rolling down her form, followed by equally tumultuous waves of her usual human self. These spells would last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes, and even after they were quelled and the conversation resumed, afterimages of mephitidine muzzle and ears would ghost suddenly into place and just as quickly disappear.</p>
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<p>After that visit, Ioan had asked Dear about them. Its features darkened and it had averted its gaze. <em>“We all have our ways of dealing with loss. She could seek change if she wanted, but…”</em></p>
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<p>It was rare for the fox to leave the end of a sentence unsaid, but Ioan could not think of a way to ask it to continue.</p>
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<p>While every guest was noteworthy in their own way, a few names stood out to em. Dear’s sibling instance, Serene; Sustained And Sustaining, arrived, a mad grin on her face as she ran directly at Dear and tackled it, the two foxes wrestling briefly on the ground before standing up and dusting themselves off again, both laughing.</p>
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<h1>Zk | 002</h1>
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</header>
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<article class="content">
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<h1 id="ioan-balan-2325">Ioan Balan — 2325</h1>
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<h1 id="ioan-balan-2325">Ioan Bălan — 2325</h1>
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<p>Ioan and May Then My Name let the intoxication of the night cling to them a while longer while they sat on the balcony of Ioan’s house, overlooking that perpetually lilac-scented yard, and talked. They talked of the party, of the modern house on the prairie, of Dear and the contradiction of formal intensity and playfulness that it seemed to embody. The conversation wound down, and then the two sat in silence. It did not seem time yet to snap sobriety into being.</p>
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<p>It had taken Ioan a few days to get used to the skunk’s affectionate nature. When she first moved in as the intensity of the project began to ramp up, it had taken em by surprised, and ey had needed to have a series of awkward conversations discussing boundaries and intentions.</p>
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<p>Now, as she slouched against eir side on that bench swing and ey settled eir arm around her, he asked, “What is the story behind your fork? Or your stanza?”</p>
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<h1>Zk | 003</h1>
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</header>
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<article class="content">
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<h1 id="ioan-balan-2325">Ioan Balan - 2325</h1>
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<h1 id="ioan-balan-2325">Ioan Bălan - 2325</h1>
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<p>There was a rhythm to research, Ioan had found. The ideas and information did not always flow smoothly, of course. Ey would go days without breaking through the current blockage, or perhaps ey would rush forward in leaps and bounds, the periods of sleep and waking growing longer and longer until ey was out of sync from the world around em.</p>
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<p>But despite these crests and troughs, there was a rhythm. Ey would find a pace at which the project would bloom, fits or starts, and would slowly be able to predict the ways in which it would move.</p>
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<p>There had been work before the launch, but the way in which it shifted Dear’s Death Day, had knocked Ioan into enough of a different mindset, that this felt much like a new project. Ey supposed that it had to do in part with the sudden cessation of sensorium messages from Dear. That the fox was now restricted to text only must’ve been a shock to its system, and when eir thoughts would drift away from the task at hand of collating histories, ey would picture it sitting at a desk scribbling away, frustration on its features and agitation in its tail. </p>
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<p>“And we can head to bed after we eat.”</p>
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<p>May’s laugh was bright as she clapped her paws. “Well played.” She slid off the beanbag and stood. She forked another May to go help #Blue cook before stretching and offering a paw to Ioan to help em stand.</p>
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<p>“What?” Ey took the paw and let her help lever em out of the beanbag. She kept the grip on eir hand after. “Bed now? Instead of eating?”</p>
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<p>“Excuse me. We are adults in this house, Mx. Ioan Balan, and adults eat at the fucking table and not on a pouf.”</p>
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<p>“Excuse me. We are adults in this house, Mx. Ioan Bălan, and adults eat at the fucking table and not on a pouf.”</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-08-23</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-08-24</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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