Marsh updates, geekfest assets

marsh/content/018.tex

@@ -26,9 +26,9 @@ Swivelling her chair toward the hurtling skunk, Dry Grass threw her arms wide, l
 
 ``Dry Grass Dry Grass Dry Grass!''
 
-``Motes!'' She pushed the skunk --- who looked to be no more than ten, despite being the same three hundred odd years old as Dry Grass, a childishness more earnest and real than that of Warmth In Fire --- away from her enough to meet her gaze. ``You stupid\ldots awful\ldots{}'' She fell to crying once again, clutching Motes to her front.
+``Motes!'' She pushed the skunk away from her enough to meet her gaze. ``You stupid\ldots awful\ldots{}'' She fell to crying once again, clutching Motes to her front.
 
-\emph{``That means I did a good job!''} the skunk sent via a sensorium message as she rested her head over her cocladist's shoulder, grinning at me.
+\emph{``That means I did a good job!''} the skunk sent via a sensorium message as she rested her head over her cocladist's shoulder, grinning at me. She looked to be no more than ten, despite being the same three-hundred-odd years old as Dry grass. Where Warmth In Fire bore childishness about em, Motes seemed to actually just be ten years old.
 
 I shook my head in disbelief and leaned forward to pat her gently between the ears.
 
@@ -54,13 +54,15 @@ The two Odists --- one tall, slender, and human, the other a shorter, softer sku
 
 ``Reed!'' A Finger Pointing began, reaching out with one arm to offer me a hug. ``I am pleased you made it.'' She glanced at Dry Grass with a rueful smile. ``I hope we did not traumatize you \emph{too} much.
 
-I leaned into that hug and watched as Beholden started guiding chairs away from the next table over with a gesture, a curl of the finger beckoning them over one by one. One slid across the floor so that she could flop down into it, with another for her parter. As soon as she and A Finger Pointing had done so, Motes forked off two more instances to go pile into each of their laps as well.
+I leaned into that hug and watched as Beholden started guiding chairs away from the next table over with a gesture, a curl of the finger beckoning them over one by one. One slid across the floor so that she could flop down into it, with another for her parter. As soon as she and A Finger Pointing had done so, Motes forked off two more instances to go pile into each of their laps as well. After all, as Dry Grass had explained, they had essentially adopted the roles of Motes's parents.
 
 ``You have, but Motes has already apologized,'' Dry Grass said.
 
 A Finger Pointing winced at Dry Grass' words, setting her drink down and offering a bow. ``I am sorry, my dear; I recognize that our approach to reclamation is at times quite uncomfortable. I will endeavor not to be so careless in the future. More warnings, perhaps.''
 
-She showed none of that wariness when her eyes came back up to meet mine. ``I am sure we each feel differently about this particular production. I, for one, would have been satisfied even if the house were empty; all that preparation, that one climactic performance makes for a potent font of catharsis, does it not?''
+Dry Grass waved the comment away. ``I trust you, Pointillist. Thank you for the consideration.''
+
+The taller Odist showed none of that wariness when her eyes came back up to meet mine. ``I am sure we each feel differently about this particular production. I, for one, would have been satisfied even if the house were empty; all that preparation, that one climactic performance makes for a potent font of catharsis, does it not?''
 
 I laughed, my throat still raw from my own bout of crying. ``I suppose so. Motes certainly seems to think so.''
 
@@ -76,11 +78,11 @@ Beholden laughed. ``You are so very much yourself, Dry Grass.'' She gave her ins
 
 I sighed, leaning forward to grab my drink off the bar before settling back in my chair. I was glad I'd gone for a wine rather than anything fizzy. My throat still felt raw from the crying. ``I'm doing okay, I think. Coming to terms with it all. The play was\ldots a lot. I guess part of why it hit me so hard was because, yeah, I heard back from Marsh\#Castor today.''
 
-``Oh, Reed,'' Dry Grass said, leaning over to squeeze my hand. ``Do you want to talk about it?''
+``Oh, Reed. I had not considered how they might fit together,'' Dry Grass said, leaning over to squeeze my hand. ``Do you want to talk about it?''
 
 ``Actually, I was hoping I could get your opinion on some of it, if you don't mind,'' I said, looking to the others.
 
-Motes, preoccupied obtaining as much affection as she could, merely shrugged.
+Motes, preoccupied with soaking up as much affection as she could, merely shrugged.
 
 ``I am fine with it,'' Dry Grass said, then added with a smirk, ``That is why I brought you here, after all, is it not? That and the experience?''
 
@@ -122,7 +124,7 @@ When I finished reading, our little crowd sat in silence, each thinking their ow
 
 My eyes were drawn to A Finger Pointing, to the pensive tapping-together of her fingertips. ``I have been looking forward to the opportunity to speak with you about just that, Reed. About this cross-tree merge, I mean. About Anubias.'' She glanced at Beholden, who nodded, though her own gaze remained distant, then went on. ``We, too, are without our root instance. We are without our Michelle Hadje, she who became ten, who became --- nominally --- one hundred.''
 
-Dry Grass carefully nudged Motes out of her lap so that she could straighten out her blouse. The little skunk wandered off to haul up a far-too-big chair for herself.
+Dry Grass carefully nudged Motes out of her lap so that she could straighten out her blouse. The little skunk bubbled up with the instance in Beholden's lap; letting her up-tree quit so that she could merge, then taking her place.
 
 ``It has been a long time for us.'' Dry Grass smiled faintly. ``A \emph{very} long time. You have had eight months, my dear.''
 
@@ -148,11 +150,27 @@ She sniffed, sighed, then went on. ``--in Death Itself and I Do Not Know, but al
 
 Motes drew her legs up onto the chair with her and buried her face in her arms.
 
+``I never did keep that final merge,'' Beholden said quietly. ``It was too much, too fast, too soon. It was all far too close to the Century Attack, and it was so much time in one merge that I was worried I would lose who I was. \emph{This} me --- the one that loves Boss--'' She nodded over to A Finger Pointing. The affectionate hypocorism got her a smirk in return. ``--and Motes in the way I do --- would not exist anymore. Not quite.''
+
+There was a quiet whimper from the smaller skunk in her lap, which gained her a kiss atop the head from her guardian.
+
+``Her letter and their garden of nasturtiums and columbines will have to do, I suppose.''
+
+``And my memories from Beckoning,'' A Finger Pointing added quietly. ``I do have those, yes? I have been meting them out to you at the choicest of moments when I feel you need a good cry.''
+
+Beholden rolled her eyes, but the hidden smile there was genuine. This was, it seemed, a particular discussion that had lost much of its sting. ``She quit and left behind only memories, I mean to say. It is all we had when people died back phys-side, and it is all we have here, now, cases such as these.''
+
 ``I do not \emph{like} it,'' Beholden added with a bitter chuckle. ``I think I actually \emph{hate} it, that she could do that --- that \emph{any} of them could do that. One more thing to be anxious about after months and months of anxiety.''
 
 A Finger Pointing watched Dry Grass carefully while Beholden spoke, turning her gaze on me only after some silence lingered between us. ``I do not believe this premonition, of course, that we are doomed to quit, but you can see how it affects each of us. There is enough death in our clade to make us wonder, yes?''
 
-She spent a moment doting on Beholden before straightening up, brushing out her blouse with a sigh. ``There is, perhaps, some of my longing for Dear in this --- it is the instance artist of our clade, now no longer on Lagrange, and instance artistry has held my interest since I met it --- but I have been gradually reaching out to each of my cocladists in the hopes of creating a synthesis of our clade --- our own Anubias, if you will --- not to recreate Michelle but to better understand one another and ourselves through the lens of someone who is each of us at once.''
+Dry Grass nodded, perhaps a bit warily.
+
+She spent a moment doting on Beholden before straightening up, brushing out her blouse with a sigh. ``There is, perhaps, some of my longing for Dear in this --- it is the instance artist of our clade, now no longer on Lagrange, and instance artistry has held my interest since I met it --- but I have been gradually reaching out to each of my cocladists in the hopes of creating a synthesis of our clade --- our own Anubias, if you will --- named Ashes Denote That Fire Was. We both have our beloved naming schemes, yes?''
+
+I laughed, nodded.
+
+``It is not out of an effort to recreate Michelle, though, but to better understand one another and ourselves through the lens of someone who is each of us at once.''
 
 Dry Grass nodded. ``The mutual understanding is a thing I am particularly interested in. There have been schisms within our clade that might\ldots well, not be mended, but may at least provide greater understanding.''
 
@@ -207,3 +225,11 @@ A Finger Pointing tilts her head at Beholden. ``You want to kick Ioan's ass for
 ``I want to kick eir ass just in general,'' she said primly. ``It just seems like it might be fun.''
 
 ``Oh, it \emph{is},'' she mused, before turning her gaze on me once more. ``So let that be my request to you, Reed. I want you and Lily to talk about this, to consult with Anubias, and to tell me how that goes. I am sure Dear would have a heyday if it were here to explore cross-tree merging, but seeing as it went the Ansible --- I am \emph{very} much stealing that turn of phrase --- I think I would like to collaborate with you three on this new form of reclamation.''
+
+With that, we fell into, at first, silence, and then comfortable chatter about the small things. Drinks were summoned --- warmer and more comforting --- while Motes slipped out of Beholden's lap and dreamed up some chalk to start drawing on the black-painted-concrete floor, an image I recognized as the dandelion-ridden field where I met the Ode clade that first morning after the attack, so long ago and yet also so recently. Dry Grass and I cozied up together, as did Beholden and A Finger Pointing.
+
+It was, I decided, our own reclamation, just the five of us. The stress of the play was behind us. The stress of the Century Attack could be set aside. For tonight, we were here together, with all our love and affection. For tonight, Motes could doodle on the floor of the auditorium without a care, Dry Grass could tease me about my tickly stubble when I kissed her cheek, and Beholden and A Finger Pointing could exchange looks of devotion of an intensity I rarely saw.
+
+Tonight, we were \emph{here.}
+
+We were here together.