MP edits

motes-played/content/004.tex

@@ -78,7 +78,7 @@ She carefully poked her nose into the room, turning the handle to the door as qu
 
 Sighing in relief, the skunk nodded and padded into the room, closing the door behind her. She had to feel her way to the bed in the dark. The dark, which seemed to press in against her, bearing rapidly distorting memories of the dream. \emph{To think that I could be this disgusting,} echoed in her head. \emph{\ldots lurid visions of youth\ldots{}}
 
-There was a part of her that strived to convince the rest that the voice in the dark was not that of A Finger Pointing—despite the lilting, everlasting humor that showed even in sleepiness—but that of Michelle/Sasha, her root instance who had ever loved her, now more than fifty years dead. \emph{It is her waiting with a dagger,} that fraction of her promised. \emph{It is her waiting with yet more cruel words.}
+There was a part of her that strove to convince the rest that the voice in the dark was not that of A Finger Pointing—despite the lilting, everlasting humor that showed even in sleepiness—but that of Michelle/Sasha, her root instance who had ever loved her, now more than fifty years dead. \emph{It is her waiting with a dagger,} that fraction of her promised. \emph{It is her waiting with yet more cruel words.}
 
 But then there was the bed, and then there was the hand holding up the covers to welcome her in, and then there were the arms envelop her, and then there was the feeling of a face—a human face—an unshifting face—her cocladist-\emph{cum}-mother's face—pressed against the back of her neck, and then there was the clumsy addition of Beholden's paw draping over her side, her other cocladist-\emph{cum}-mother clearly still more asleep than awake.