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Madison Rye Progress 2024-06-19 22:42:35 -07:00
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writing/post-self/marsh/018.html
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<p>&ldquo;No, I will read it on my own at some point when I am calmer.&rdquo; Dry Grass nodded toward the stage. &ldquo;But look, A Finger Pointing and Beholden.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The two Odists &mdash; one tall, slender, and human, the other a shorter, softer skunk &mdash; made their way far more sedately toward our table. They walked arm in arm, leaning affectionately against each other, each carrying a drink in their free hand and paw.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Reed!&rdquo; A Finger Pointing began, reaching out with one arm to offer me a hug. &ldquo;I am pleased you made it.&rdquo; She glanced at Dry Grass with a rueful smile. &ldquo;I hope we did not traumatize you <em>too</em> much.</p>
<p>I watched as Beholden started pulling chairs away from the next table over with a gesture, one sliding across the floor so that she could flop down into it, with another for her parter. As soon as she and A Finger Pointing had done so, Motes forked off two more instances to go pile into each of their laps as well.</p>
<p>I leaned into that hug and watched as Beholden started guiding chairs away from the next table over with a gesture, a curl of the finger beckoning them over one by one. One slid across the floor so that she could flop down into it, with another for her parter. As soon as she and A Finger Pointing had done so, Motes forked off two more instances to go pile into each of their laps as well.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You have, but Motes has already apologized,&rdquo; Dry Grass said.</p>
<!-- more, slow hours vs beholden, come back to it later with reconciliation -->
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<p>Motes drew her legs up onto the chair with her and buried her face in her arms.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I do not <em>like</em> it,&rdquo; Beholden added with a bitter chuckle. &ldquo;I think I actually <em>hate</em> it, that she could do that &mdash; that <em>any</em> of them could do that. One more thing to be anxious about after months and months of anxiety.&rdquo;</p>
<p>A Finger Pointing watched Dry Grass carefully while Beholden spoke, turning her gaze on me only after some silence lingered between us. &ldquo;I do not believe this premonition, of course, but you can see how it affects each of us. There is enough death in our clade to make us wonder, yes?&rdquo;</p>
<p>A Finger Pointing watched Dry Grass carefully while Beholden spoke, turning her gaze on me only after some silence lingered between us. &ldquo;I do not believe this premonition, of course, that we are doomed to quit, but you can see how it affects each of us. There is enough death in our clade to make us wonder, yes?&rdquo;</p>
<p>She spent a moment doting on Beholden before straightening up, brushing out her blouse with a sigh. &ldquo;There is, perhaps, some of my longing for Dear in this &mdash; it is the instance artist of our clade, now no longer on Lagrange, and instance artistry has held my interest since I met it &mdash; but I have been gradually reaching out to each of my cocladists in the hopes of creating a synthesis of our clade &mdash; our own Anubias, if you will &mdash; not to recreate Michelle but to better understand one another and ourselves through the lens of someone who is each of us at once.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Dry Grass nodded. &ldquo;The mutual understanding is a thing I am particularly interested in. There have been schisms within our clade that might&hellip;well, not be mended, but may at least provide greater understanding.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Motes lifted her head and, despite the tear-tracks in the fur on her cheeks, smirked. &ldquo;<em>We</em> got cut off!&rdquo; she said proudly. &ldquo;Even you did, Dry Grass!&rdquo;</p>