post-self/motes-played.post-self.ink
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Editing some stuff that was bugging me.

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Madison Scott-Clary
2024-02-13 12:10:31 -08:00
parent 0d917939f8
commit ee109ed11b
2 changed files with 3 additions and 3 deletions
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content/draft/001.md
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@ -54,7 +54,7 @@ The other skunk scoffed, tossing her head back, adopting a scolding tone. "Am I
Motes blew a raspberry in response. "Yes please!"
"Beholden To The Heat Of The Lamps of the Ode clade, you had best not be feeding the child gin," A Finger Pointing scolded in turn, scowling.
"Beholden To The Heat Of The Lamps of the Ode clade, you had best not be feeding the child gin," A Finger Pointing scolded in turn, leaning hard into her full name. Her scowl was nevertheless patently overwrought.
"Right, virgin gin fizz it is."
@ -118,7 +118,7 @@ She shrugged. "Beckoning and Muse? Slow Hours, maybe? Dry Grass? I think Warmth
"Not your boss," A Finger Pointing said lazily.
"Fine, to Time Is A Finger Pointing At Itself of the Ode clade's sourness."
"Fine, to *Time* Is A Finger *Pointing* At *Itself's* sourness."
This netted her a tug on the ear, which earned a laugh in turn.

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content/draft/004.md
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@ -92,7 +92,7 @@ It wasn't until morning came, when Beholden had slipped away for a few minutes a
"Jesus, Dot," Beholden said, frowning over the rim of her mug. She reached her free arm around the skunk's shoulders and tugged her close against her side in a hug. "I am sorry to hear that. That sounds awful."
"It really does, my dear." A Finger Pointing leaned over to kiss at the tips of her ears. "And I think that it is demonstrably untrue that she did not not have this in her. You exist, Motes; you are absolutely my up-tree, and I know where you got it from." She smiled. "And I am absolutely her up-tree, am I not?"
"It really does, my dear." A Finger Pointing leaned over to kiss at the tips of her ears. "And I think that it is demonstrably untrue that she did not not have this in her. You exist, Motes. You are absolutely my up-tree, and I know where you got it from." She smiled. "And I am absolutely her up-tree, am I not?"
Doing her best to hold still despite the ticklishness of the kisses, Motes nodded. "I know. It was just a dream. Dreams are not real."