Loves for a summer, loves for an afternoon, loves for an hour...none replenish the heart as much as the loves that last longer.
But with such rich bounty of love comes turbulence indeed, on occasion...
I've finally replaced the glitching ShopOnRez box, and am contemplating switching from HippoTech entirely, replacing my vendors with the OnRez ones. I haven't fully committed to the concept yet.
I'm still working on packaging new items up, and I really need to get back to work making dresses. I finally acquired a functional loop script, and the results, re skirtmaking, have been...well. They verge from horrific to hysterically amusing, and I'm not sure which is worse.
Though Fawkes says, one of the programming loops, I should save. If we ever needed ballgowns for centaurs, he says, I have the perfect skirt script.
Do centaurs even wear skirts?
I'm running, I'm running, wind in my hair, my feet striking the rich black earth beneath me. Dappled sun paints the forest path in gold and lime, emerald and moss, and the forest does the rest, adding depth and shadow. I run, I run, the day is warm, but cool under the branches. I run, I run, and look behind me--
It's not a nightmare. It's not even, truly, a bad dream. But I wake from it thinking there's something I'm missing. I'm having this one, in some variation or another, every few days for the past two weeks. So there's something my mind wants me to know...I just don't know what it is.
But it's not a nightmare. There's no sense of pain, of anguish, of fear, of terror. Just this...odd confusion. What am I running towards? What am I not seeing? These could be important things.
I press against the wall currently hemming me in, keeping me from...certain actions. One never wishes for a thing more than when it is denied, and I know this game, I know it well, I've played it from both sides. But, oh, right now, just now, every fiber of my being reaches out, my soul on its knees, begging wordlessly for the one thing I cannot, at present, have.
Wednesday is going to be a very, very long time indeed, spinning in my personal limbo. I have been good, I have obeyed, I have not pressed against the edict nor wriggled around the words said. But oh, it is so long, so long, the waiting...
The waiting is driving me crazy.
And every time I remember the touch of his lips, I tremble...
Which is, perhaps, the point...