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<p>It was the first letter of several. It was the first time of many that she stood stock still, seethed, and counted to ten before opening her door to greet Beholden — her partner regardless of Hammered Silver’s haughty implications — with her usual smile once more firmly in place.</p>
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<hr />
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<p>A Weapon Against The Waking World, it turned out, was perfectly happy to meet with them.</p>
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<p>He had long ago taken the form of a stocky man, hairline receding, looking just enough like an Odist that one could see the potential
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((Waking World and Dry Grass))</p>
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<p>Waking World had long ago taken up the mantle of ‘dad’. Not father, not pa, but specifically dad. Where Hammered Silver reveled in feelings of motherhood, of caring and cherishing and clinging tight, such as they might be sys-side, he had reveled in all the glorious humor of fatherhood, of protecting and uplifting and letting go. He was a being of idle quips and truly terrible dad jokes. He was a man who might call you ‘sport’ or ‘champ’ as easily as ‘friend’. He was, in all ways except actual, <em>your</em> dad, whoever you might be.</p>
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<p>He had long ago taken the form of a stocky man, hairline receding, tall enough, looking just enough like an Odist that one could see that he might belong to the clade — his name aside, of course — and yet the resemblance was slight enough that seeing him beside Hammered Silver would not inspire comments of “siblings…?”</p>
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<p>He was not beside her now.</p>
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<p>The first thing that he did upon arriving at the Au Lieu Du Rêve library — a location carefully chosen for the ease with which it might be secured — was to open his arms to Dry Grass and, when she dashed to him, wrap her up in a hug.</p>
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<p>Once he had guided her to one of the overstuffed chairs and she had had her cry — one of relief, this time, rather than fury — he pulled up a seat to join the loose circle within the solarium.</p>
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<p>“Wifey is pissed,” he began, then laughed. “I called her that and she hit me so hard I saw stars. Usually, I just get a <em>look.</em>“</p>
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<p>Beholden, leaning back with her arms crossed over her chest, snorted. “Great,” she said. “I know that Sasha said that she was not an existential threat, but apparently we still have to worry about violence.”</p>
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<p>He held up his hands and shook his head. “No, no, I do not think you do. She hit me because that is the relationship that we have. Despite how often we say ‘I love you’ or the fact that we share a bed, despite the fact that I <em>do</em> earnestly love her, she remains staunchly of the opinion that we are in no way in a relationship.”</p>
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<p>“Okay, but how can you love her after all she has done?” the skunk snapped. A Finger pointing rested a hand on her paw, but, even as she rested her free paw atop that hand, she continued regardless. “Motes is fucking catatonic in bed now. She cut us all off, cut off whole stanzas, cut off the Bălans. Now she has cut off Dry Grass — one of her own stanza — and here you are, skulking into the library because you know that she cannot track you here.”</p>
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<p>Waking World averted his gaze. “That is not how love works, Beholden. I do not like what she has done. I <em>hate</em> what she has done. I wish that I could get to know Motes better, even, but I do love her, and my position in our little game is…precarious. I must be careful.”</p>
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<p>“Bullshit.”</p>
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<p>“My muse,” A Finger Pointing murmured. “I know that you are angry. We are all angry. Hell, I am <em>livid,</em> but this needs to be a conversation for another time. Right now, there are too many pieces in play.”</p>
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<p>Beholden subsided, lips still curled in a snarl. After a moment’s silence, her shoulders slumped and she looked away. “Yes, of course. I am sorry, Waking World. I was the one who found Motes overflowing and she was covered in blood from getting hit in the nose or something, and was all scraped up. It was…hard on me, is all.”</p>
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<p>Waking World blanched. “Wait, shit, really? Uh…” He folded his hands in his lap and frowned down to them. “Shit. I am sorry, Beholden. I did not know.”</p>
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<p>She nodded. “None of us know why, but we are asking around to see if anyone knows what happened. It could be she just fell or something. I imagine the letter she got must have been a hell of a shock.” She smiled faintly, shakily. “I apologize, though, earnestly. That should not have spilled over onto you.”</p>
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<p>He nodded, giving a hint of a bow from where he sat. “Well,” he started once more. “All of that to say that she is mad as hell, but in a very her way. She is feeling mad at Dry Grass for visiting and mad at herself for the decision she made — I do not think even she agrees with it — so she is just getting mad at every little thing. That is probably why she sent off that flurry of letters.”</p>
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<p>“Flurry?” A Finger Pointing asked, frowning.</p>
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<p>“I got one too,” Dry Grass said. “Probably five or six pages of yelling at me, yelling about all of you, and just plain yelling.”</p>
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<p>Waking World shrugged. “She even sent me one. I got it while in the next room over from her.”</p>
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<p>“Jesus Christ,” A Finger Pointing said, laughing. “She really <em>is</em> mad.”</p>
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<p>“Right. Sasha is right, though, you do not need to worry about any existential threat from her. She is not going to come hunting any of you down. She is not going to do anything but seethe.”</p>
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<p>“Is that something we need to worry about, though?” she asked. “Beholden is not the only one worried about her getting violent.”</p>
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<p>“Really, no, I do not think you have anything like that to worry about from her”. Rubbing his palms together, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I might, but that is my role in this.”</p>
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<p>“Well, is there anything we can do about it, then? I do not like your role in this, either, but again, that will be a conversation for later. I find myself all but blind with fury, though, and the thought that I might just let this slide back into silence is unconscionable. Were she to allow us to be in the same room…” She trailed off, letting the aposiopesis speak for her.</p>
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<p>“I am half tempted to find a way back just to give her a punch to the gut,” Dry Grass growled. “But I have been locked out of the entire sim.”</p>
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<p>Waking World laughed weakly. “Please do not do that, my dear. That is not what anyone needs right now, least of all her.”</p>
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<p>“What <em>does</em> she need, then?”</p>
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<p>“She needs to feel like she has hurt you,” he said, speaking slowly. “She needs to know that her words had the power to do that. She needs to feel like she accomplished something through them.”</p>
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<p>“She did hurt us, though,” A Finger Pointing said flatly. “She hurt Motes and Dry Grass, and she re-traumatized us all all over again. I would say that she succeeded admirably.”</p>
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<p>He shrugged helplessly.</p>
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<p>“Well, I ask again, then: can we do anything about it?”</p>
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<p>They sat in silence for nearly a minute while Waking World thought. A Finger Pointing gave Beholden’s paw a squeeze before retrieving her hand once more. Her sensorium felt like it was lit up with fairy lights and arc lamps. She could hear the rushing of water, and much of what she was seeing was beginning to blur, but she forced herself to remain as present as she was able, turning her senses down as much as she could get away with in the moment.</p>
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<p>“Hammered Silver is having a tantrum,” he said at last. “She does not want to argue with you. She will not be convinced because she does not really care if anything changes. She does not <em>want</em> anything to change, really. She does not want to win. She just wants to be angry and she just wants you to hurt.”</p>
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<p>“For as much as she apparently hates Motes, she sure is being a fucking child about this,” Beholden mumbled.</p>
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<p>A Finger Pointing snorted. “You are not wrong, my love. Motes at her youngest has never thrown a tantrum quite like this. Do we just drop it, then? Let her feel superior?”</p>
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<p>“That would certainly work,” he said, shrugging. “I do not know how how much it would accomplish for your feelings, but she would leave you alone. She really does just want to feel like she is in the right, and no amount of argument will make her feel anything but justified.”</p>
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<p>“Yeah, fuck that,” Beholden said, to which Dry Grass nodded emphatically.</p>
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<p>“Fuck that, indeed,” A Finger Pointing said. She could feel just how inadvisable the attitude was as the words left her mouth, could feel her control slipping, and yet she had her role to play, her guardianship to uphold.</p>
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<p>“Well, whatever you do,” Waking World said cautiously, “be careful. Keep yourselves safe above all else. If not from her, then at least from your own anger.”</p>
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<hr />
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<p>Letter after letter, topic after topic. They became rote. They became routine. They became a signature of Hammered Silver after every little decision that A Finger Pointing made which did not meet her standards. Every little decision that <em>anyone</em> made, if what True Name and Praiseworthy had to say was true.</p>
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<p>And it was not just her, after all, was it?</p>
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