From ece2ad2e30ee272521bf37f84953b4740f2462b4 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2024 14:30:15 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/idumea/002.html | 14 +++++++++++++- writing/post-self/idumea/index.html | 4 ++-- 2 files changed, 15 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/idumea/002.html b/writing/post-self/idumea/002.html index 72c0a0f25..bf89dbc83 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/idumea/002.html +++ b/writing/post-self/idumea/002.html @@ -47,7 +47,7 @@

“Well,” ey began, blinking a cone of silence into being over the table. “I suppose it is In Dreams. It is a few of them, actually.”

The Woman nodded, lifted her drink for a sip, sighed. “You have had mostly good things to say of them.”

“Mostly, yes.”

-

“But not always.”

+

“But not always.”

“Yes.” Her Friend turned eir mug lazily from side to side on the tabletop, not yet drinking. “Not always. There are times when we mesh quite well. Most times, even. There are times when we will go for morning runs and stay together in a group, but there are also times when we will lag behind, me and a few others. There are times when we will all eat together sitting around one table or having a picnic, talking about our days, and there are times when we will retreat to our own homes and eat by ourselves or with our partners.”

The Woman averted her eyes, nodded. “As we do.”

“As you and yours do, yes,” Her Friend said cautiously.

@@ -67,6 +67,18 @@

The tenth had left two empty chairs and two full plates at meals until three years prior.

Now they left three.

Her Friend, either knowing or seeing this, averted her eyes, casting her gaze instead out to the street. “I am sorry, my dear. I was indeed feeling grief and loss over Should We Forget. No Longer Myself as well, yes, and Beckoning and more, but the one I knew best was Should We Forget. I am sorry.”

+

The Woman let her breath out most carefully, not letting it shake, not letting her lip quiver. “I understand, yes. You knew her as well.”

+

“Perhaps we can speak simply of the fallout.”

+

She bowed. “I would appreciate that, yes.”

+

“Of course, my dear,” Her Friend said, smiling, nodding her acknowledgement. “The fallout of this conversation with In Dreams was that she told me that perhaps I ought to schedule a session, either with her or In Memory, or, failing that, someone outside the clade.”

+

“Is that what you wound up doing?”

+

Ey shook eir head. “I did not need that, my dear. I did not need to be told to go to therapy. I did not want to schedule an appointment.” Ey finally took a sip of eir mocha, but this seemed to be less about the coffee than an opportunity to gather eir wits. “I just wanted a friend, honestly. I just wanted a hug — no, I understand, perhaps not your thing, but I must be earnest, yes? — but instead, I got told to find a way to fix this. Fix grief. Fix a very real pain.”

+

The Woman’s features softened and, steeling herself for the touch, she reached across the table to pat the back of Her Friend’s paw. “I understand, No Hesitation. Would that I could offer more. I am happy to be a friend, though; I have no interest in telling you to go to therapy.”

+

“Of course,” ey said, smiling once more. “I trust you of all people in that. I know that you have mentioned — however kindly — in the past that you have worried that I am simply providing you with therapy on the sly, but I trust that you know that is not the nature of our friendship.”

+

She nodded.

+

“All I wanted was to be close to someone who would not do those things.”

+

“Yes, of course. There are many memories bound up in all of this, but there is also joy, yes? Joy that we are still here? That is what I have been trying to focus on.”

+

“Oh? How so?”

(Woman helps Friend by talking about memory without realizing it)

(Woman realizes what unbecoming might look like)

diff --git a/writing/post-self/idumea/index.html b/writing/post-self/idumea/index.html index ab7035917..c301fc788 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/idumea/index.html +++ b/writing/post-self/idumea/index.html @@ -37,7 +37,7 @@ Soon as from Earth I go, What will become of me? — Charles Wesley, 1763 -

At the end,

+

At the end (maybe?),

Eternal happiness or woe Must then my portion be; Waked by the trumpet’s sound, @@ -68,7 +68,7 @@ A curse or blessing meet?