update from sparkleup
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@ -117,7 +117,7 @@
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<p>“It is, is it not?”</p>
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<p>“Is she talking your ear off, Reed?” came a familiar voice from behind us.</p>
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<p>“Oh, absolutely,” Dry Grass replied, turning and leaning up to give Cress a kiss on its cheek. “How are you feeling, loves?”</p>
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<p>“Terrible,” Tule said cheerfully. “All my emotions are wrong. I’m jittery and tired and I want to get another few hours of sleep but feel guilty every time I lay down.”</p>
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<p>“Terrible,” Tule said cheerfully. They had apparently collected Rush and Sedge before arriving, as all four of stood in almost identical postures, each holding their coffees in their right hand — just, I realized, as I was doing. “All my emotions are wrong. I’m jittery and tired and I want to get another few hours of sleep but feel guilty every time I lay down.”</p>
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<p>I laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I keep feeling like I’m having the wrong sort of reaction to all of this.”</p>
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<p>“When was the last true trauma that befell the Marshans?” Dry Grass asked, smiling gently. “I imagine it was before you uploaded, yes?”</p>
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<p>A moment of silence followed.</p>
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@ -137,11 +137,14 @@ Meanwhile, on the walls and roads and roofs and floors of the village, a mosaic
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Something about the ephemerality of the sand and the permanence of the tile speaks to me, and both the food and company are a delight. I have been dipping in and out for about 70 years now, and it is always a pleasure to see old faces, and new ones come to draw in the sand, or maybe place their first tile, or simply looking for a place to relax and sip some wine. I cannot recommend it enough!
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<p>While I mulled over her focus on comfort and memory, we linked up hands, Tule and Cress with their partner, and me with Cress.</p>
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<p>While I mulled over her focus on comfort and memory, we linked up hands, Tule and Cress with their partner, and me with Cress, Rush, and Sedge.</p>
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<p>We stepped from the quaint small town sim and directly into warmth and sunlight, into the salt-tang of sea air and the low rush of waves against a beach. We stood atop a stone walkway of sorts, which seemed to run along the edge of a town. On further inspection, it appeared to be a retaining wall of a sort, holding up the town that meandered up a hill to keep it from sliding inexorably down into a bay. </p>
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<p>Between the wall and the water was a sandy beach, partially obscured by intricate and crazed markings in the sand. It took some time of peering at them for me to make out just what they were: it seemed as though, throughout the tail end of New Year’s, dozens or hundreds of people had been drawing in the sand using, I assumed, the sticks that were leaned against the wall.</p>
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<p>All of the designs seemed to feature the New Year, now that I was able to pick them apart. Visions of fireworks, scratched over mentions of the year, scrawled names of, I guessed, couples who had met up on the beach.</p>
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<p>I turned away with a hollow feeling in my chest, wondering just how many of those couples were still couples.</p>
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<p>The town, while no less visually chaotic than the beach, was at least more heartening to look at. Everything — <em>everything</em>; the walls of buildings, the roofs, doors and window shutters, even the roads — was covered with a blindingly colorful mosaic of tiles.</p>
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<p>“It is nearly two centuries old,” Dry Grass explained as we started trudging up one of those streets. When you enter, you are given a single tile — if you check your pockets, it should be in there.”</p>
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<p>Sure enough, when I dug my hand into my pocket, I found a cerulean tile, a little square of porcelain about three centimeters on a side. Both Tule and </p>
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<p>(tile sim - talking about current status of the numbers)</p>
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<p>(Serene’s swamp - talking about the current response out in the world)</p>
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<p>(dandelion field - talking about the Odists, one loss, End Of Endings, though still checking on those who have left the clade, of which there are now a few, no word on E.W.)</p>
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@ -149,7 +152,7 @@ Something about the ephemerality of the sand and the permanence of the tile spea
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<p>((After Dry Grass leaves, Reed goes to talk with Lily))</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2023-08-26</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2023-09-08</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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<script type="text/javascript">
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