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107 lines
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<h1>Zk | 003</h1>
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<h1 id="ioan-balan-2325">Ioan Balan - 2325</h1>
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<p>There was a rhythm to research, Ioan had found. The ideas and information did not always flow smoothly, of course. Ey would go days without breaking through the current blockage, or perhaps ey would rush forward in leaps and bounds, the periods of sleep and waking growing longer and longer until ey was out of sync from the world around em.</p>
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<p>But despite these crests and troughs, there was a rhythm. Ey would find a pace at which the project would bloom, fits or starts, and would slowly be able to predict the ways in which it would move.</p>
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<p>There had been work before the launch, but the way in which it shifted Dear’s Death Day, had knocked Ioan into enough of a different mindset, that this felt much like a new project. Ey supposed that it had to do in part with the sudden cessation of sensorium messages from Dear. That the fox was now restricted to text only must’ve been a shock to its system, and when eir thoughts would drift away from the task at hand of collating histories, ey would picture it sitting at a desk scribbling away, frustration on its features and agitation in its tail. </p>
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<p><em>Then again,</em> ey thought. <em>It still has plenty of company to pester up there.</em></p>
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<p>“Woolgathering?”</p>
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<p>Ey snapped back to attention and smiled sheepishly at May Then My Name where she had parked herself on the other side of the room. “Yeah. I’m prone to that, I guess. I get in the zone and then an idea gets away from me and I forget to keep working.”</p>
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<p>She nodded. “Well, come here, then. Lets plan instead of read or write or whatever it is you are doing over there.”</p>
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<p>“Woolgathering, apparently,” ey mumbled, but gathered up a notebook and a pen to go plop down next to the skunk all the same.</p>
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<p>When May Then My Name had moved in with Ioan, she had quickly requested several changes to the house. A desk for her to work at, of course, as well as a private room — a cube with all grey walls — in which to do whatever it that she did when composing. She had also requested a few items that would work with her physiology. A stool for the desk that would let her tail drape down and curl around her feet, that sort of thing</p>
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<p>She had not requested another room or bed, which had initially startled em.</p>
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<p>“Are you going back home to sleep?” ey had asked. “I thought you were moving in here.”</p>
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<p>She had laughed and poked em in the stomach with a finger. “You have a bed, Ioan. It fits two, yes? If not, just make it fit two.”</p>
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<p>Ey had few attachments, and certainly none which required sleeping in the same bed as someone. Eir confusion must have shown on eir face, as May had rolled her eyes and shook her head.</p>
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<p>“I do not mean anything untoward by it,” she said.</p>
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<p>Ey struggled to speak with a mouth suddenly dry. “If you say so. I just haven’t slept in the same bed with someone…uh, ever, I guess.”</p>
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<p>Her eyes had widened and she tilted her head. “Really? Never?”</p>
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<p>Ey had shook his head.</p>
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<p>“Well, I would still prefer to share your bed with you, but if you feel uncomfortable, I will be fine with a bed like yours.”</p>
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<p>So now he slept beside a skunk.</p>
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<p>She had also requested a few beanbags that she could curl on, more comfortable than a couch. Each of these was larger than Ioan had felt necessary, and it had required that ey expand the bounds of the rooms to fit them, but ey had quickly gotten used to them, as ey could stretch out on them just as well as May Then My Name. They were a little too amorphous to sleep on, but still plenty comfortable.</p>
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<p>Ey sunk into a slouch on one now, feeling the way it molded around em. Ey knew well enough now to lift up the arm on the side where the skunk was curled, and she predictably scootched up by his side to rest her head against his chest at the shoulder, arm around his middle. He let his arm drop again, curling it around her shoulders.</p>
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<p>“Alright,” ey said, reaching his free right arm down beside the beanbag for the lap desk which had proved so useful for times such as these. “Planning. What should we plan?”</p>
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<p>“How about your forks?”</p>
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<p>“Right, yes. Do you think I should have one for both Green and Blue? And probably one for history, judging by what you’ve told me already.”</p>
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<p>She nodded, the fur of an ear-tip tickling at his neck. “Start with one each. You can always cut down from there if it is unnecessary. If that first message from Codrin on Green is anything to go by, better safe than sorry. Monsters and cults! It is all very like Dear. I bet it put Codrin up to it, what with me doing the myth bits.”</p>
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<p>“Ey’s been infected by Dear’s weirdness.”</p>
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<p>“It is an Odist thing. You will catch it, too, from me.” She laughed.</p>
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<p>Ey started a diagram on the page. “So that’s three. Would it be four total, then, with me to collate the information?”</p>
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<p>“Probabay for the best, yes. This down-tree instance to collate, two for the LVs, one for early System history–“</p>
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<p>“I will fork for that as well.”</p>
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<p>“More Mays?” Ioan laughed.</p>
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<p>She poked the tip of her tongue out of her muzzle. “Are you complaining?”</p>
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<p>“No, no, I’m sure it’ll be fine. That’s three forks. A fourth for interviews for those who stayed behind.” Ey tapped eir pen against eir lower lip. “How often should we merge?”</p>
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<p>“I would suggest once a day to start with, perhaps an hour before you — your #tracker instance — plan on stopping work for the day. You can use that hour to do your collating. You are less used to frivolous forking than the Odists, and much as I might enjoy multiple Ioans to canoodle with, I would prefer that you not get overwhelmed.”</p>
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<p>Ey laughed and shook eir head, jotting down notes on the paper as ey talked. “You’re probably right. Besides, I’d have to make the house even bigger to have enough bedrooms.”</p>
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<p>She tightened her arm around eir middle and shrugged. “Or the bed, but there will be only one of you. I may keep a fork or two around working on other tasks, but they can shift schedules if you would prefer not to have multiple mes crowding in on you at night.”</p>
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<p>Ioan brushed the fingers on eir left hand through the soft fur on the skunk’s arm. “Not to start with, if that’s okay. I’m only just getting used to sleeping with one you.”</p>
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<p>Tilting her muzzle up, she dotted her nose against the underside of eir chin. “For which I am grateful! I struggle to be around people without being close to them. Thank you for indulging me.”</p>
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<p>“Of course,” ey mumbled, feeling the skunk’s snout lingering beneath eir chin. “It’s new to me. Unexpected.”</p>
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<p>“Why?”</p>
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<p>Ioan frowned and set the lap desk and notes aside, opting instead to brush his fingers along her arm. This conversation had slid off course, and ey knew that it was hopeless to get it back. Once May Then My Name began to talk about feelings, all was lost.</p>
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<p>“I suppose it just never occurred to me,” ey said. “Forming attachments that would lead to something like that was never really been a need or want, so it just never happened.”</p>
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<p>The skunk nodded against eir chest, and ey could sense a frown on her muzzle. “That is so counter to the way I function that I cannot even picture it. I am a being of attachments. I think we all are, to greater or lesser extent.”</p>
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<p>“I suppose so. I’m not a total recluse. I like interacting with others.”</p>
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<p>“Just not beyond a certain point.</p>
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<p>Ey hesitated, then said, “It’d probably be more accurate to say that it just never happened. It didn’t even really cross my mind until recently.”</p>
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<p>“When you had someone addicted to close attachments move in with you?”</p>
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<p>“A bit before, perhaps, probably with that Qoheleth business, though I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time. That’s where Codrin came from, after all.”</p>
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<p>May Then My Name slipped her arm from beneath eir hand so that she could lace her fingers with eirs. “That makes sense. Do you understand it better now?”</p>
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<p>“A bit, though I suspect I have a long ways to go yet,” ey said, squeezing her fingers between eir own. “Why are we talking about this, by the way?”</p>
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<p>She laughed. “We are part of this story, too.”</p>
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<p>“Does that mean we’re going to figure in your mythology, too?”</p>
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<p>“Oh, of course! The archivist of tales and eir lover, the painter of myths!”</p>
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<p>Ioan laughed. “Lover? Really?”</p>
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<p>“It makes for good reading,” she said, poking her nose up at eir chin again. “Though I would not turn it down.”</p>
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<p>Ioan tensed. Ey could feel eir cheeks burning. “Uh…another conversation I’ve never had to have before.”</p>
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<p>“We will have it another time,” the skunk murmured. “Your heart is racing and making my pillow uncomfortable.”</p>
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<p>Ey forced a laugh. “What is it with you Odists? Are you all this good at turning everything on its head? Dear and Codrin, and now–“</p>
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<p>“You and me?” May Then My Name giggled.</p>
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<p>“I was going to say, “And now you’re pushing me in weird directions.” I wasn’t expecting Codrin to find emself in a triad, if I’m honest.”</p>
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<p>“You, my dear, lack a certain self-awareness, for someone who spends all eir time up in eir head.”</p>
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<p>Ioan shifted to the side enough to look down at the skunk. “How do you mean?”</p>
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<p>She laughed and licked em on eir chin. It was an odd sensation. “It is not surprising at all, knowing Dear. For as inventive and high-minded it is, it has a pattern of conforming itself to a situation such that those around it <em>want</em> to get close to it, and it does so in such a way that they think they want to be close of their own volition.”</p>
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<p>“Are you saying it’s manipulative?”</p>
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<p>“Oh, no. Not really, at least. I do not think it knows that it is doing that. It also lacks that self-awareness. It is more like…” She trailed off, visibly searching for the words. “It is like it knows what feels good, but not why, and so it has developed these mechanisms to ensure that those good things happen more frequently.”</p>
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<p>“More like a self-reinforcing behavior, I guess?”</p>
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<p>She nodded.</p>
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<p>“I suppose that makes sense, then.” A silence fell during which Ioan thought about what self-reinforcing social behaviors ey had. “I like to work. It’s a really fulfilling feeling. So I work, I try hard to do a good job, and when I do, it leads to more work. I developed a way to keep myself interested.”</p>
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<p>“A coping mechanism for the terminally immortal.”</p>
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<p>Ioan laughed. “‘Terminally immortal’? How does that even work?”</p>
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<p>“I do not know. You are the word nerd, here.”</p>
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<p>“The archivist of tales, you mean.”</p>
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<p>She laughed. “Of course. And eir pet mythologist.”</p>
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<p>“Oh, now it’s ‘pet’?”</p>
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<p>“I am still trying on labels. I am the one who has to write that sort of stuff, after all.”</p>
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<p>Ey lay back against the beanbag and May Then My Name made herself comfortable against em once more.</p>
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<p>More woolgathering. That’s what the evening called for, more than work. More woolgathering for the both of them.</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-08-23</p>
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