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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2024-01-08 20:47:50 -08:00
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writing/post-self/motes/005.html
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@ -25,7 +25,6 @@
<strong>On:</strong> systime 238+291</p>
<p>And We Are The Motes In The Stage-Lights,</p>
<p>I am breaking my communication embargo to write you regarding some concerns that I have on the current state of the clade, the fifth stanza, and you in particular.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As you know, the sixth and seventh stanzas, those of me and In Dreams, have formally instituted a no-contact order with the first, eighth, and part of the ninth stanzas. As of seven years ago, the fifth stanza was added to that list due to the ongoing association with the one who has named herself Sasha.</p>
<p>I do absolutely mean it when I say all of the fifth stanza. That is, we have not cut Time Is A Finger Pointing At Itself out of our lives, but her and all of her up-trees to however many degrees. That includes you, And We Are The Motes In The Stage-Lights.</p>
<p>It came to my attention some years back that I Remember The Rattle Of Dry Grass had nevertheless continued in her association with the fifth, particularly with you and with Time Is A Finger Pointing At Itself, given your unfortunate predilection. When first I noticed this, I discussed with her my feelings on the matter and made clear my request that she live up to the original agreement that there remain no contact between our stanza and yours. She, at the time, reminded me that this decision was made unilaterally without input from the rest of the stanza, and yet agreed to upload my request.</p>
@ -44,7 +43,12 @@
<li>There is to be no contact between the one who has named herself Sasha and either the sixth or seventh stanzas.</li>
<li>There is to be no contact between I Remember The Rattle Of Dry Grass and the rest of the sixth stanza until further notice.</li>
</ol>
<p>You are not just playing a dangerous game, And We Are The Motes In The Stage-Lights; you are losing it. We <em>all</em> are losing it with you, too, with the risk that it places on the entirety of the Ode clade, even those with whom you no longer speak.</p>
<p>You are not just playing a dangerous game, And We Are The Motes In The Stage-Lights; you are losing it. We <em>all</em> are losing it with you, too, with the risk that it places on the entirety of the Ode clade, even those with whom you no longer speak. I will not say that this is all on your head, but consider that three of the five points above relate directly to you.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became an adult, <em>I put an end to childish ways.</em></p>
</blockquote>
<p>— Memory Is A Mirror Of Hammered Silver of the Ode clade</p>
</blockquote>
<p>===</p>
<p>When Motes overflowed, she cut herself off from play. She froze where she was. She went nonverbal, became all but catatonic. It would last days. She would disappear from the world and she would stop playing, and if she stopped playing, she would no longer be herself.</p>
<p>So, when Motes stopped playing, she promised herself that she would not do that. She promised herself that, as best she could, she would do anything but that. She promised herself that she would keep going because she did not want to be seen like this. She did not want to be caught like this, with a letter in her hand, with shame on her face, with guilt all matted in her fur.</p>