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Feb 23, 2020 5:23 PM
sky is a bad dm
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"I mean – it's scary to be a bleedingheart. But Ota doesn't make it scarier."

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"Being a bleedingheart is Ota's gift to begin with."

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He nods, slowly.

"...I guess I can see it."

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"The love of any god is a fearful thing."

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“But you kept looking for it anyway.”

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"Yes. Fearful and beautiful."

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That, I get.”

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"Yes. You see it, too."

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“I’m just into fearful.”

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"And I, into beautiful."

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"Fucking aesthetes," he says, fondly.

He makes short work of the rest of his food.

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One of the horses peels away and rides off.

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Yvan attempts to eat while staring at Z, and occasionally Cato.

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Z gets up, after a minute or two, to help Dora pack up.

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Cato looks right at him, as he puts out the fire pit and lugs his possessions out of the tent.

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"--can I be of use?"

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The moment Cato leaves the tent, the flaps shut – when he pulls one aside, to check, there's nothing inside, just slightly muddied fabric walls at the appropriate size.

"You can help me take down the tent."

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Then Yvan will do that.

(He's quick and careful about it, and not talkative.)

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The remaining party members are saddled up and ready to go in short order.

Dora looks incredibly preoccupied.

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When the tent is packed up, Yvan joins them.

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They ride off.

Z rides ahead, half-singing an exaltation of migratory birds, mumbling when he half-remembers the words.

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Yvan rides close behind to listen.

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Friends of the dawn, we mumble mumble on the weary wing, seeking home and mumble mumble something.

He has a lovely voice.

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It's inadvisable to read a book while riding a horse.

Dora is managing it.

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Cato is just staring into the middle distance.

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