update from sparkleup
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Madison Scott-Clary
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<li class="done0"> Normalize “LVs”, capitalizing Secession, launch arms vs struts (struts at base, arms at tips), Council of Eight only exists in Secession (now viewed as i.e: founding fathers), Ioan/Codrin’s pronouns</li>
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<li class="done0"> Easy to cut people off, build enclaves, isolate (thus “System freeze”); w/o shortages, leads to complacency, easy to govern/steer w/o big deal</li>
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</ul>
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<h2 id="cover-ideas">Cover Ideas</h2>
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<ul>
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<li>Michelle/Sasha unable to control her form</li>
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<li>May Then My Name showing Ioan dandelions</li>
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<li>True Name and Jonas at a coffee shop</li>
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<li>Codrin and Dear building cairns</li>
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</ul>
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<h1 id="older-stuff">Older stuff</h1>
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<h2 id="chapter-ideas">Chapter ideas</h2>
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<ul>
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@ -188,7 +195,7 @@
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<li class="done1"> Launch-side:<ul>
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<li class="done1"> (Green) Aside 1: Depressed astronomer who knows this is as close as he’ll ever get, but studies all the same through text (how we learn why that limitation is there, learn more about Dreamer Module)</li>
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<li class="done1"> (Blue) Aside 2: Zeke, who has gone a bit sideways, now the prophet Ezekiel, having a hard time reconciling two launches</li>
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<li class="done1"> Aside 3: Author who wrote an outline for a book, has been writing them independently on launches and sending them back to an editor sys-side who is compiling them</li>
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<li class="done2"> Aside 3: Author who wrote an outline for a book, has been writing them independently on launches and sending them back to an editor sys-side who is compiling them</li>
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<li class="done1"> (Green) True Name: Tasked as political side of launch, first time sys and phys have worked together in any meaningful way in ages, tickled to see Douglas in the candidates</li>
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<li class="done1"> (Blue) Why Ask Questions Here At The End Of All Things (All Things): Tasked by True Name and Jonas to meddle with sys-side politics to increase support for secession</li>
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<li class="done1"> (Green/Blue) No and Ne Jonas: Reveal just how much bigger a political influence sys-side had on phys-side even after secession to keep the System going and growing, not all savory, what’s best for System at all costs, humanity has become a resource/crop to be tended by the System.</li>
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@ -273,7 +280,7 @@
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</ul>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-09-01</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-09-03</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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@ -99,7 +99,7 @@
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<p>“The composer writes the music — that’s the signal — and then puts it onto paper, gives it to performers, who play it for an audience, who take it in through their ears and mix it all up into their heads until they can come out at the end of the piece with a picture of what the composer was thinking or feeling.”</p>
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<p>I nodded. When she appeared to drift off into thought, I guided her gently back. Perhaps I was greedy for her immediate presence. “And you were trying to convey that through the piano.”</p>
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<p>She frowned. “Sort of. Not, like, the idea itself, since I obviously just used my words to explain it, but this weird emotion that that makes me feel. Like…there’s a little bit of magic in it, you know? So I feel a little bit of wonder at that. But there’s also a little bit of responsibility. It’s sort of like I’m the magician and have this responsibility to pull off this crazy hard magic spell for everything to go well. Except that’s not the whole thing either, because there’s also the performers outside my control, and there’s all these looping detours between composer and performer and audience, like the process of finding performers, the journey they take learning the music, and then all the techniques and how well they work in the performance space and how that affects how well they work and–shit, I’m rambling, sorry Dee.”</p>
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<p>“Wait, what?” I blinked rapidly and shook my head. “No, Kay, you can talk music to me all day long. I may not be able to keep up with all of the fine details that go into it, but I like hearing you get all excited about it.” I followed this up with my best earnest expression and a wag of my tail, adding, “Besides, you’re good at listening to me talk about all those things that I get excited about, too.”</p>
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<p>“Wait, what?” I sat up straighter and shook my head. “No, Kay, you can talk music to me all day long. I may not be able to keep up with all of the fine details that go into it, but I like hearing you get all excited about it.” I followed this up with my best earnest expression and a wag of my tail, adding, “Besides, you’re good at listening to me talk about all those things that I get excited about, too.”</p>
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<p>Her guarded look relaxed into something more like relief, and she wagged a little, herself. “Thanks. It’s good to have someone to gush at. God knows I don’t understand half of what you say, too, for that matter.”</p>
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<p>We laughed and began gathering up our stuff, shouldering our bags and piling lunch detritus onto our trays to take to the trash.</p>
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<p>A few steps from the trash bins, Kay bumped her shoulder against my arm. At first, I thought she had stumbled or something, and I swerved slightly as my empty drink cup nearly tumbled off my tray. Her expression was curious: she had her ears splayed in something like anxiety or worry, and her whiskers were slicked back, guarding. She wasn’t looking at me, and yet she was smiling.</p>
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@ -108,7 +108,7 @@
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<p>I raced through the masking checklist, realized that my whiskers were bristled almost uncomfortably far, my ears were laid flat, I was blinking rapidly, and my tail was tip-tapping about anxiously. I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, which I did my best to hide behind what I hoped was a bashful expression. “Yeah, sorry,” I managed.</p>
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<p>She frowned all the same and put down her coffee, padding over to the window to wind it open a short ways. “Sorry, maybe should’ve sprayed some block. I bet it stinks in here.”</p>
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<p>“No!” I said, realized that sounded forceful, and added, “No, sorry. Just smells like you, is all, and I feel like I got punched in the face with memories from school.”</p>
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<p>At that, she laughed, though she did leave the window open, a trimmer chattering beneath her window marring her scent with traces of exhaust. “Well, good ones, I hope. Still, I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”</p>
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<p>At that, she laughed, though she did leave the window open, a trimmer chattering below marring her scent with traces of exhaust. “Well, good ones, I hope. Still, I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”</p>
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<p>“It’s fine, Kay, really. Just random memories–” <em>Tell her, tell her, tell her,</em> some part of my mind was urging. It had Jeremy’s voice. “–like going to concerts, or your senior recital.” <em>Tell her!</em> the voice shouted, pounded on the walls, clawed at my insides, all while half-truths spilled from my lips.</p>
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<p>And then, the moment was past.</p>
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<p>“Oh! Speaking of, there’s two nights of that percussion festival, but I figured we’d just hit up the one tomorrow.” She reacquired her coffee and crawled back onto the mussed-up covers of her bed, gesturing me toward her desk chair, the sole other piece of furniture in the studio. “The final night is always the best, because all the stressful master classes and such are over, and everyone is just playing like crazy and really feeling it. At least, that’s how it always is with me and festivals. The days are all filled with classes and the evenings are concerts, and the last one, you’re just riding on some weird music high. Uh…sorry.”</p>
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@ -121,7 +121,7 @@
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<p>She trailed off and averted her eyes over to the kitchen, focusing on a wayward glass. All the last had come out in a rush of justifications, half-apologies, and self-deprecation.</p>
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<p>“You’re fine, Kay. I’ve gotta be the world’s most awkward coyote, and if you’re the second most awkward, well, we just make a heck of a pair.”</p>
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<p>She puffed out a breath and then took a long sip of her coffee. “Mm, right. I’m out of practice in being around someone as…I don’t know, genuine as you.”</p>
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<p>It all tugged at my heartstrings, and I prayed for the bravery to reassure her. “You seem kind of jittery. Everything alright?”</p>
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<p>It all tugged at my heartstrings, and I prayed for the bravery to reassure her. “You seem kind of anxious. Everything alright?”</p>
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<p>“Yeah, I’m just jittery, I guess. Nervous.”</p>
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<p>“Nervous about anything in particular?”</p>
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<p>She squinted over at me, “You’ve gotten good at your therapist voice.”</p>
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</div>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-08-02</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-09-03</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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