Final pass on motes, Marsh anthology

motes-played/content/001.tex

@@ -34,7 +34,7 @@ One by one, the various Moteses quit until \#Root was the only one remaining. Sh
 
 ``Lights, Dot.''
 
-Motes jolted at the sound of A Finger Pointing's voice from the couch beside the door. ``Oh! Yeah!'' she said, forking off one more ephemeral instance to go flip the switch in the studio, make some spooky noises, then quit, all while \#Root climbed up to join her down-tree instance on the couch, slouching against her side.
+Motes jumped at the sound of A Finger Pointing's voice from the couch beside the door. ``Oh! Yeah!'' she said, forking off one more ephemeral instance to go flip the switch in the studio, make some spooky noises, then quit, all while \#Root climbed up to join her down-tree instance on the couch, slouching against her side.
 
 ``All done painting?'' Beholden asked, the other, larger skunk not yet looking up from where she was slicing a lime into wedges at the bar.
 
@@ -62,11 +62,11 @@ Motes blew a raspberry in response. ``Yes please!''
 
 Another raspberry.
 
-Beholden poured a tall gin fizz to share with herself and her partner-\emph{cum}-cocladist, lime muddled with sugar and cardamom bitters, gin and soda water. Then she made a second glass sans alcohol and turned to lean back against the edge of the bar, drink in one paw and bottle of gin in the other, finally facing the two cuddled up on the couch. She `absentmindedly' started to top up the glass from the bottle. ``Oh, \emph{right!} You said virgin,'' she said, mock surprise in her voice. Gin continued to pour. She winked to the skunklet. ``Oh no. \emph{Oh no!} That is \emph{way} too much! Motes! You had better not drink this!''
+Beholden poured a tall gin fizz to share with herself and her partner-\emph{cum}-cocladist, lime muddled with sugar and cardamom bitters, gin and soda water. Then she made a second glass sans alcohol and turned to lean back against the edge of the bar, drink in one paw and bottle of gin in the other, finally facing the two cuddled up on the couch. She `absentmindedly' started to top up the glass from the bottle. ``Oh, \emph{right!} You said virgin,'' she said, mock surprise in her voice. Alcohol continued to pour. She winked to the skunklet. ``Oh no. \emph{Oh no!} That is \emph{way} too much! Motes! You had better not drink this!''
 
 They all laughed.
 
-Beholden padded over to join them on the couch. She took a long sip from one of the glasses before passing it over to A Finger Pointing, handing the other over to Motes. ``We are headed out to a pub tonight with a few others, my dear. Jazz and burgers and too much whiskey.''
+Beholden padded over to join them on the couch. She took a long sip from one of the glasses before passing it over to A Finger Pointing, handing the other over to Motes. ``We are headed out to a pub tonight with a few others, kiddo. Jazz and burgers and too much whiskey.''
 
 ``Is that why you are all dressed up?'' Motes asked, her paint-spattered overalls contrasting with both of their all-black ensembles.
 
@@ -124,7 +124,7 @@ She poked Motes in the belly. ``Here you are, fat little \mbox{skunk--''}
 
 Motes snorted. ``You are also a fat skunk, though.''
 
-``Complaining? I thought not. You have fallen asleep on my belly more than once. Here you are talking about a plate of salt and carbs while I am looking forward to a salad the size of my head and a burger that is also mostly salad.''
+``Complaining? I thought not. You have fallen asleep on my belly more than once this week. Here you are talking about a plate of salt and carbs while I am looking forward to a salad the size of my head and a burger that is also mostly salad.''
 
 ``I \emph{also} like those things, though,'' Motes countered. ``Like, I would eat the heck out of a salad right about now.''
 
@@ -144,13 +144,13 @@ Motes snorted. ``You are also a fat skunk, though.''
 
 The playful banter continued, and while she would occasionally poke her snout in to make a quip of her own, Motes largely just savored her drink, bitter and sour and sweet, and the comfort of being nestled in between her two cocladists, thinking.
 
-She thought about the more than two centuries that had passed since A Finger Pointing had forked into the other nine instances of her stanza, that point when Motes had become Motes. She thought about the time that had followed when she remained essentially the version of A Finger Pointing who had taken up responsibility for sets and props, about those slow years of individuation and differentiation. She thought about the way she had started to toy with her appearance, her actions, her approach to life, and how she had steered herself into this focus on play to reclaim a childhood that had, yes, been pleasant enough, and yet which could have been so much more, now that she had all the time in the world. Something to live intentionally. Something to savor.
+She thought about the more than two centuries that had passed since A Finger Pointing had forked into the other nine instances of her stanza, that point when Motes had become Motes. She thought about the time that had followed when she remained essentially the version of A Finger Pointing who had taken up responsibility for sets and props, about those slow years of individuation and differentiation. She thought about the way she had started to toy with her appearance, her actions, her approach to life, and how she had steered herself into this focus on play to reclaim a childhood that had, yes, been pleasant enough, and yet which could have been so much \emph{more,} now that she had all the time in the world. Something to live intentionally. Something to savor.
 
 It had not always been smooth, to be sure. The compromises she made early on far outnumbered the ways in which she was earnest to herself.
 
-She did not blame A Finger Pointing, never once. She, of all those in her life, was trustworthy. Motes had once \emph{been} her, after all, yes? They had had their spats—more than a few—as would be the case between any parent and child—as would be the case between any two individuals. She had had spats with more than just Ma. She and Beholden had fought, and at times bitterly, and it was at those times that Bee's guardianship had felt most precarious. It had never disappeared, but it had verged well into the realm of sister—the realm of Slow Hours—or bestest friend~--- that of of Warmth In Fire—and away from guardian, away from that parental love.
+She did not blame A Finger Pointing for suggesting such compromises, never once. She, of all those in her life, was trustworthy. Motes had once \emph{been} her, after all, yes? They had had their spats—more than a few—as would be the case between any parent and child—as would be the case between any two individuals. She had had spats with more than just Ma. She and Beholden had fought, and at times bitterly, and it was at those times that Bee's guardianship had felt most precarious. It had never disappeared, but it had verged well into the realm of sister—the realm of Slow Hours—or bestest friend~--- that of of Warmth In Fire—and away from guardian, away from that parental love.
 
-She did not remember what the spats were about. She could, yes, her memory was as perfect as anyone else's on the three Systems. But she would not, because that was not the point. The point was that she was Motes. She was their Dot, their \emph{Dóttir.} She was the kid, and they were the grown-ups who loved her.
+She did not remember what the spats were about. She could, yes, her memory was as imperfectible as anyone else's on the three Systems. But she would not, because that was not the point. The point was that she was Motes. She was their Dot, their \emph{Dóttir.} She was the kid, and they were the grown-ups who loved her.
 
 And so their protectiveness made sense, yes? They wanted to keep her safe, yes? They just could not help but keep \emph{themselves} safe as well, yes?
 
@@ -226,7 +226,7 @@ Dry Grass laughed. \emph{``You had me at maccy-chee. Shall I come over now?''}
 
 No sooner had the message completed than Dry Grass blinked into being on the default arrival point over by the front door.
 
-Motes finished shoving the tray of salad ingredients up onto the counter and zipped over to her cross-tree cocladist, all but launching herself into her arms. Dry Grass caught her, letting her momentum swing the two of them around in a circle. ``Hey kiddo! Way to go almost knocking me over.''
+Motes finished shoving the tray of salad ingredients up onto the counter and zipped over to her cross-tree cocladist, all but launching herself into her arms. Dry Grass caught her, letting her momentum swing the two of them around in a circle. ``Hey little one! Way to go almost knocking me over.''
 
 ``I am not sorry!'' Motes said and just as quickly dashed away and back to the kitchen. ``Help me cut up everything. I am going to nick a claw, I know it.''
 
@@ -274,7 +274,7 @@ Motes frowned and pulled apart the logic, doodling pink spirals onto her fingerp
 
 ``Is this that stupid optics thing again?''
 
-``I do not know. Certainly in part, though it is also in part because, if you are her, then you could not be her child. You could not be a different age.'' She hesitated, then added, ``It means that she has the capability to become like you, yes? That all of us have\pagebreak\ that within us, yes?''
+``I do not know. Certainly in part, though it is also in part because, if you are her, then you could not be her child. It is another form of an intraclade relationship.'' She hesitated, then added, ``It means that she has the capability to become like you, yes? That all of us have\pagebreak\ that within us, yes?''
 
 ``Oh god,'' Motes said, laughing. ``I cannot imagine Hammered Silver as a kid. She would be one of those prissy, stuck up girls who is the daughter of the PTA president or something.''