I am

Invocation
Altar
Offering

Exalted
Exultant

Ecstatic

Birthday

Maia is one.

Unsteady steps unsupported. Babbling that starts to take structure. Her eyes have lightened: her hair never fell out. Hugging Maako and Leremai, which they find sometimes inconvenient. She'll move her hips to music while holding onto a chair, and we all make a great fuss of her. Knocking down the towers we build so carefully; laughing as the blocks fly...

Kerem and I lit the light for her. After dinner we sat in the darkened hall as it glowed, and watched the images Jacob had gathered for her: beautiful views of space from his ships. Later, we slept in the hall: Jacob again beside me.

To mark the occasion I transferred funding for the fertility and maternal health project. Roimata will manage things again.

I have hopes.

Wings

I like this ship.

I really like this ship.

Strength

When Ulf first came back to us he was broken.

Some say we took a warrior and made him meek.

I say don't mistake bluster for strength.

Perspective

A week can make such a difference.

I've been feeling a little soul-dry lately. Nothing to worry about, just realising that I feel limited by all the things I can't or won't risk, to the point where I'm not doing much.

So I'm trying to change the way I look at some things. Make the things less important than the actions. Sell off some stock rather than hoarding it because some day it'll be useful. Look at ships purely for their aesthetics, for a change, rather than for what's safe and practical. It's different. Also amusing: I seem to be drawn to the look of ships that are deeply politically inappropriate.

Been talking with Lucian a bit, although mostly in public. He wanted to do dinner; even offered to meet in person, but I didn't think that would be a good idea. We ended up having a virtual meal together while we both ate in our respective parts of space.

He told me he loves me. He'd like us to try 'dating'.

I told him I'm not looking for another lover now.

He'd like to be my confidante.

I can't confide in him: not about the things I work with these days. It's... naive to expect that.

We were close once. He's always been one of those men who's better company on his own, when he's not trying to be the person he seems to think he needs to be around others.

When he's trying to be the person he thinks he needs to be around me?

I still remember walking in on him and Nauticaa in LM 2.0. I probably shouldn't. But it's not my duty to be with him in that way, and I don't want to.

There's no need to be cruel, though.

Through it I had Isobel's comment in mind, about the laziness or hypocrisy of using "I already have a boyfriend" as an explanation of why you're not interested in someone. So I didn't mention Jacob, even though I suspect that might be something he'd understand and accept: he's enough of a propertarian to see it as a matter of property and access rights.

Problem is, it can lead to people waiting for the next breakup -- encouraging it, even -- and hoping that then they'll be in with a chance.

There are people I could want enough to have a wildly inappropriate affair. Lucian's not one of them. I don't feel that way about him.

Any longer?

I'm not so young and admiring these days.

Shards

I had another uncle, Miika...

Mmmm...

Jacob is back.

Jacob is home.

Restless

Keeping busy. Getting over the cold I picked up at Paiho that left me not wanting to face pod goo for a while. Finally managed to sell some of the stock out of the office, but it's really not a good place for a shopfront.

Did dinner at Cia's place with Else. Pleasant. Speculated on what would happen if Aeron tested positive for the pod: I imagine that would not be a happy day for Rhiannon. Aware that we still need to arrange a suitable time for the talk Else would like to have.

Set things up for some simulator training with Ulf, CJ, Benito and Ivan. I like the simulator. Ivan designed me a fit that gets in very close, and I'd hate to have tried it the first time for real. On the sim, however, it was good. He was surprisingly gentle in the ways that mattered. Makes me want to become better. Makes me hesitant about going back if I'm not becoming better.

Went back to The Last Gate, despite the awkwardness since we redded Veto. Caught up with Shae: Caellach's been even more scarce than Jacob this last month. Met a Veto pilot called Raxip Elamp who, at a guess, might have issues about enforced unhappy freedom. Also met Sard Caid. Very strange to do that while I still have kill rights on him, although I was in holo so we've still not breathed the same air. Does that somehow make it okay?

"So Mata, can I call you that?"

"Mmm. Why not? I suppose we're past conventional formalities. Do you prefer 'Sard'?"

And then there was Ethan himself and... nostalgia. A great sodden wave of it. Talking to Ethan brought it all back: dunesurfing, icecream, dancing to his piano playing, and... Jonny.

Maia doesn't know who Jonny is. I've come to wonder if that's for the best.

With Jacob away so long I'm thinking with my head again. Not a bad thing, I suppose, but it's clinical, lacking the surge and impulse of the gene-wisdom and the archetypes.

Instinct

I'm acting like I want another child.

It's not a good time for that. All sorts of reasons. But the ancestors and the erendati don't care about reasons: they care about what's worked over generations. I've lost people lately. There are gaps to fill.

And the ancestors and erendati still haven't caught up with the fact that in these clones I use most of the time, it doesn't matter what they get me to do.

Except jump home to my real body.

I want my marks again.

Changes

So much has happened that each time I've thought of writing I've been daunted by the backlog.

Kerem came to stay for a week; her first time off-world. She slept lots for the first couple of days without the kids and then we went exploring the station together, shopping, cooking, checking out the gardens, hanging out... I've missed her. Our lives are so different now.

We left Re-Awakened and formed our own corp: the Lutinari Syndicate. Electus Matari accepted us. I find myself at the head of a sleek and supple group of combat pilots.

Possibly because of that, I've flown again, sometimes successfully and sometimes resoundingly not. The clone with the beautiful body art spent some time in emergency coldstorage and is now being assessed for reuse in one way or another. I'd like the marks back, if they're not too freezerburnt. It might be possible to recondition the biomass.

Maia continues to grow. She's ten and a half months, now. Mobile, although not yet free-standing. Intrigued by the world, but more upset when she's left alone.

Ulf is now the executor of EM. He's given Uncle Ashlar the job of looking after some of the holding corp admin for him, which is kind, but also a recognition that Ashlar's barely able to shape stone any longer. I hope he can still do some last work, since I'd always hoped to have the supports for my own hearthstone carved by him.

Things with Jacob are still intense and primal and tender all at once. We take small steps toward togetherness. The new place is even "ours".

Falcons have been selling below index build price. Raptors have been selling below reprocess value.

I visited The Last Gate again, and fell into conversation with Punx Evangeline. She's converted to Sani Sabik to marry her lover. She tells me its philosophies aren't so different from those of the Fraction: that you can be free if you can defend yourself; that it's about helping friends. I think she enjoys blood-play with her lover, and doesn't know or care much about the rest.

I hear Bacch scammed Viper. He seems very pleased. I wonder if I should approve or disapprove or just accept it as they way things are with them.

I seem to spend a lot of time not saying things. There seem to be so few people I can actually... argue with these days.

Trust

Earned or gifted.

Wished. Mended. Clung to.

Gone.

Focus

Many small things. Some larger ones. Not much that fits well into words. Seeing Sansha taking people from worlds. Coming back and wanting to nest.

I want to be around as Maia grows.

As much as possible, I want to bring my work together.

And... I'm spending all my spare time at Jacob's place, which we're talking about making ours.

Bought kei flowers at Rens bazaar. We don't have vases for them so I re-cut them in a bucket, remembering Auntie Yana's instructions for that. Remembering Auntie Yana. The smell of them is sweet and clear and makes me smile, as though it's summer festival time and the houses will be blessed.

It's good with Jacob. It's very good.

I've been gathering things together. Moving my bases. Sorting things out so they're where I need them.

Finally tidying away the remnants of other times. Cleared out Pied en l'Air and gave up the contract on the place. Closed the Dreambridge.

I'll go to Paiho again, and swim in the lake there.

I'll freeze.

Must make sure the steamhouse is stoked.

Jacob

I need to tell a story.

It's about friendship, closeness, amazingly intense sex and growing intimacy. It's about dreaming dreams together and working together on corp accounts. It's about clans, and plays, and the whole freedom-duty-individual-group thing. It's about exploring our shared darkness, as well as the light, and finding that we call to each other on so many levels.

I do not want to tell this story.

I fear that telling it will make it fade, like dreams in daylight. Or telling it will give it a reality that's more than what we make each time we're together, and I will come to resent that for casting me in a role I no longer want to play.

I've said I am not good with words of love. I'd rather show what I feel through my actions. And... I'm a little broken by dreams that have faded.

But... maybe...

I anticipate future pain. It is sometimes the price of present joy.

And I embrace them both.

Communion

I have known what it is
to see with your eyes
to be in your flesh
to feel...

Now we must refrain

I will remember

Trancetruth

Who can I talk to?

Who can I tell the things I'd need to tell for it to make sense?

Who would I listen to?

Auntie Ellie's out among the outworkers. I could find her, maybe. She helped me with Maia. Helped me catch: left me to tear. She works with people who want medicine, or clan news, or who've lost their way and need to know they can come back. My concerns have been... more spiritual. We don't seem to have much medicine for those.

Hey, I don't seem to hear the voices any more, or feel their presence. I miss them.

I can so see that going well.

I'm... involved with an outsider. With him I found the trance state, and the erendati, strongly... and maybe the whispers of the ancestors.

How could I find that with him and not with kin?

Is it all just biochemistry?

Do I care?

When I was a child it was real.

Jonny

Is back. I had an alert that he was on comms.

Sent him a message. Calm. Civil. Clear, I hope.

He cannot give me answers. Asking would just hurt us more.

Introductions

Not the most propitious of meetings. Not, I think, how we'd hoped it would be. But done now. A warm hall on a cold night. Cousins from the clan unpacking the kites. Auntie Gytha as the sole auntie at Waimaru that night to greet him and question him. Poor man.

But Jacob got through. Even stayed the night. Strange having him in the unit that Jonny helped build, looking up at the stars through the glass in the gables. But, as he said, he'd spent the day with Jonny's daughter: this was nothing to that.

Strange being with Jacob in my real body, the one that smells right to Maia but is not prepared for him. I'm still not comfortable in it with more than gentle touch.

The next day Jacob played his pipes and I danced with Maia, sweeping her in arcs and circles.

Kites

The Matar branch of the Culture Revival Movement has been pushing the idea of a regular multi-day festival around this time, with kites and food and such. Thought it was as good a reason as any to grab some people and take a break from the wars.

Flew kites and had a picnic on Matar. Mostly 1st-shift and kin. Found an island with beaches and good wind. A pleasant outing, although Camille was true to form and caused a few tense moments.

It was interesting to see the different ways we scrambled to try to help. Even though most of our efforts weren't needed, it's good to know we have... diversity. Back-ups. If-not-this-then-this.

I dropped by home beforehand and picked up Kerem, along with Maako and Maia and food. Kerem made her kite dance. She also heated the food and was generally useful around people she didn't yet know. I owe her so much. She didn't catch at the gathering, and she's sad about that. I know she'd like a daughter. Maia's heavy feeding didn't help her chances, and to cap it all, Maia's now teething.

I'm looking for some special gifts for Kerem.

Bespoke

When have I had anything else so personally designed and made for me? My new set of marks, last month. Before that? Clothes built to biometrics, of course, but they're still generic, and the fit and work are not to the same level.

Dance costumes, maybe? Some of the clothes the aunts made for me? But mostly we wore whatever would fit, and it was made generic for that, too.

I find myself eager to see how this turns out.

I need some new clothes: replacements and stock for new bases. Perhaps something similar would work for those.

Resounding

We all record.

Each word and action logged when in our pods. Outside them, too: the constant buffer from the implants, logging every impulse and sensation.

Apart from combat logs for training, I hadn't thought to play them back.

Or share them.

So that's what it feels like for you when I...

Scheme

Andreas had a blueprint to sell.

It's not all that much difference, seen rationally, but it's all mine: the materials and the making.

I want to call it Sheath: the little black dress; the scabbard.

That would also translate to handing him a large and spiky condom.

Just how Re-Aw am I feeling?

Scabbard

Bright-tipped blade,
Cool path tracing:
Tightly sheathed

Heroes

I saw Kalta Amorto dance Silba'a. Saw it with my own eyes, after all these years. I'm sketching out my own version. Must book somewhere to practice.

Debes isn't dead.

Jake... I have no words. My flesh sings him yes!

Notification

Dear Auntie Mara,

Yes, you were right that I had someone on my mind through the gathering.

Could you please enter the following in the clan register?

"Matariki Rain Atamahara has, as pera, Jacob Gottii Avenar."

I'll try to bring him to meet you soon.

Yours,
Mata

Fame

...of a sort.

It's not like Re-Awakened actually uses its boardroom for any other sort of business.

Oh well; here go the announcements.

Metaphor

We're so used to speaking figuratively that sometimes it's important to clarify when a comment was literal.

Landing

And after that long virtual marathon it comes to this: sitting cross-legged on a real bed, trying to explain, in inadequate words, things which I don't fully understand.

The reason I've considered Damrak: to replay that scene with me there as a person.

The reason that last time with Jacob was so hard: the sense that I no longer mattered; that he can have what he can hold, but no more. The rest of me... is up there with the bright-coloured birds in the virtual trees.

I must have some room to move if I'm to be there; all of me; engaged. Some sense that what I do makes a difference, even if it's small. Some hope. Take that away, and there is only outward surrender and inward flight.

We'd come so far.

Change tense: We've come so far, and in exploring edges and boundaries we've messed up for a bit.

It was even all virtual. I could have broken the connection at any time. But I still believe it's a failure to quit an engagement once I've committed to it. How do I work on that?

It is no longer a simple thing of lust and joy. It's a more complex thing of lust and joy and negotiation and accidentally/intentionally stumbling into old scenes which I need to learn to avoid completely or replay with altered scripts.

The nanites seem to be settling in okay. No immune response to them, although the spikes in pulse, respiration, etc, had the medics holding me for observation for hours longer than they'd said.

I did warn them.

Hunters

Damrak is here: hungry, but diverting from his hunting to watch my dancing and marking. He knows; at least some of it. He'd like a chance to mark this body, too.

I've told him 'no'.

Why did I do that? Do I not want to? Am I scared to? Is it – on balance – not worth it?

Once again I've made no promises, yet once again I'm turning down other opportunities. I could have taken a lover for the duration of the gathering. I could have celebrated with my cohort or, come to think of it, with a number of groups. But I haven't. I can almost imagine the report card: “Matariki fails to play well with others and turns down opportunities to bond with them.”

Part of me would like to try Damrak again with me as an equal, or even as the hunter. What would it be like? A struggle and a fight: he's another man I have no concerns about breaking. He's such a hunter – am I wrong to call him a predator? – that I think of him as fair game. I'm intrigued. Not before the marks, though – the clone was barely healed from the last time with Jacob, and Frarn had rolled his eyes at the extra challenges of working with distressed skin. Not after, either: ouch. So no Damrak for me this time.

I'm also... would I want to lie in his arms betweentimes? Would there be – could there be – gentleness and wordplay? Would I want there to be? If I'm trying out some hunting of my own and also making a point, don't I just want to be able to walk away? That was lovely. Have a good life.

Does it work like that? Maybe I could just assume the world into that sort of shape and it wouldn't realise any differently, the way I didn't realise any differently.

Jacob's doing well so far at making me want to stay. I think he understands more of the game than I do. I sometimes think he understands some things about me that I don't yet know. There I was, hoping to be a special and unique flower, and I'm coming to suspect that I'm (also?) a type, with triggers and responses in common with many others. I imagine that with his age and experience you see patterns; know your prey; learn the choreography.

I'm enjoying learning.

If I'm being played, for now it's worth it.

Waiting

We're waiting for more entries in the lists of the missing from Frarn, Eystur and Lustrevik. Epecially from Lustrevik, where we have kin-houses which are checking their registers.

We won't be ending the gathering early. The decision is to keep on doing just what we would have done. We're more watchful, sure, and there's interest in how the ground-based operations on the other planets have run and what we could do against Sansha if they came here.

I should be used to it by now, the sense that I should be flying. There's almost resignation that each time I embark on something in the traditions that will take me away from the pod there will be some event that will have me feeling I ought to be back there.

This hurts. Purely physical pain that grows and grows and does not diminish until you're suspended above it, knowing it and focused by it. There are drugs for it, if I want them. I don't, or at least not yet. All that willpower training must be useful for something. And I'm feeling it and thinking of his touch. Wise? Perhaps not, but it makes the cut and burn seem something quite different.

Marking

When tomorrow's work begins there won't be a way I can lie comfortably. From then until the end will be shifts of the skin-smiths, and chanting, and wiping of blood.

It all came together quickly.

I saw the first drawings. Gave some feedback; considered the aunt's comments. After the dance, though, the artists all wanted to make changes. I ended up dancing again for them: the dances Auntie Gytha taught me when I could barely walk, the Atamahara and Maa'Tushindor traditions, the Gallente dance I studied. What they wanted most were my dances. My version of the fire dance; Shura'aia; Plein Air; the water and fire sections of the cleansing series; even my improvisations to Verone's piano playing. I have danced myself for them and they have redesigned the marks for me.

It's going to be beautiful. Strong; fluid; graceful.

I want to wear this design. I want to be worthy of it.

Daughters

Mother's here. She seems to have taken lessons in holding babies gracefully. I guess that does mean she's useful to give Kerem more breaks, even though the idea of mother actually changing her granddaughter is head-shakingly incongruous. They do look well together. I'm sure mother's aware of that.

We had one of those conversations:

“Jonny?”

“Gone.”

*pause*

“But you're not alone.”

“Correct.”

*pause*

“Will Jonny be back?”

“I don't know. *pause* I hope so, for Maia.”

Why is it still so hard to ask her about my father?

Witnessing

My teeth are chattering as I write this. I'm wrapped in a blanket with a warm mug of something Auntie Gytha brewed up.

I danced today. For Ko Braya – for the gathering – and to have my marks witnessed. That last bit meant I wasn't wearing very much. And it's cold here. And the dance involved water. Which would all have been okay except that afterwards I was asked to wait around, cooling down, while the techs took altogether too long to confirm that the recordings were clear and uncorrupted. I froze while my people tried to make it through from the other side of the main arena with my cloak.

After they confirmed the recordings I got a surprise: something I hadn't thought would happen so soon. I've been acknowledged as a teacher. I know enough about the dance forms to pass them on, and I'm okay with students. I can, officially, do what I've been doing this last week. This is unexpected and really rather special. And will require another mark.

But the clans have witnessed my marks. When I carry them over ... should I say that my marks will be notarised? The voluval, anyway. I'll have footnotes worked into the new designs.

There's much discussion over the designs for my new marks. Also suggestions about a few other things to add while we're at it. Oh, and while we're here Ulf's getting a mark for the relief of Lantorn.

I'm finding the hard way that not all my marks are visible.

Designs

I had a chat with Uncle Malmar. Found out that Karnedo Tresh, Jamla Main, Frarn Eisenar and Waneshendi Unver are all here: the best skin artists in Maa'Tushindor. Got cleared to make a call to my clone crew, then started some talks.

I have a plan.

Death-bringer

Torg Shamaatha Braya is not that old – maybe twice my age. He led troops at the Battle of Tears. He lived. I remember thinking, when I saw him first, that he wished he hadn't.

Torg Shamaatha Braya bears responsibility for many deaths through his career. I noticed him again today, while I was guiding some young dancers, and realised that I bear responsibility for more. Deeper than that: I felt a strange kinship in the sudden knowledge that the erenda of death-bringing has worn us both.

... and I went on and corrected the posture of a young dancer and shaped another's hands into the wind-form. This is the life I first trained for.

Marks

In my body again, marked with my marks: tribe, sub-tribe, clan, name-mark; voluval; first-child. Stretch marks nearly faded by the treatments. Wound nearly healed.

I've left a clone marked in other ways. I wish... I wish I could have brought those marks with me: to know them, even to show them.

I've had that clone well over a year. It was Kahu's gift of freedom to me: unmarked, able to determine its own beginnings.

While I'm away I'm having that clone marked with my marks. I'd like to live as though it's the real me living my life.

I don't know how to be a peaceweaver who flies and kills. That'll be an adventure.

I find myself wanting to be all my 'me's together.

I want privacy. I want to tell the worlds.

Connections

Maia is well. Kerem is talking. Ulf is angsting. I'm longing for an absent lover. Situation back to normal.

It's good breathing the same air with kin again.

The gathering is huge.

Last night it rained. I have a pile of bandannas originally in Atamahara red and gold which are now swirls of orange. One of the outworkers got keen and commissioned a batch of them from some generic supplier. I've been coordinating a recall and replacing them with clan-made sashes which use stable dyes.

We need to talk with our outworkers more. The bandannas are a small sign.

Officially, we're in the phase of puzzle-contests, story-telling and dance performances. I'm one of the judges of the fire dance. Win it one year: judge it forever.

Unofficially... the discussions are under way. At least I'm still on the fringe, but being fast-tracked. I wish I felt the confidence I show.

Ulf lives in apprehension of being married off. He's smitten with Carinelle, and mostly happy. He still doesn't seem to realise that it'd take something big for it to be worth it for Atamahara to marry him away.

The problem -- potentially, for him -- is that some of the discussions are big.

Gathering

I missed the last gathering of the Maa'Tushindor clans. I was hacking up pod goo instead, still learning the trick of breathing it in without choking and gagging.

The time before that I danced the fire dance. Other dances as well. Some private performances. It was an adventure. New people; intense flirtations; quite a few clanchildren born after.

But not mine.

Ko Braya's called the clans together again. This time Atamahara wants its pilots there. We're the blingships in the fleet; perhaps the bait.

It'll take weeks. I really, really wish she'd chosen another time.

Had the chat with Eva. Her advice is a lot like Auntie Gytha's, but -- how to put it -- quite sanguine about the idea that damage happens. I won't think of nanite repair paste or research for structure repair bots the same way for a while.

I'm happy.

I'm having to consider answers to the questions I usually ask.

I'll find a bespoke nanite maker.

Revelation

Ripe kalakiota fruit splits at a touch, oozing juices.

In his hands I am ripe.

Overheating

I've finally learnt Thermodynamics.

It just seemed like the sort of thing more-active combat pilots did, not me, and there was always something else to train. But I've been hearing them talk, and thinking that even for me it could have uses.

And then I forgot it, just when it could have saved a ship.

I've barely used that ship in, what, a year? It was the first battleship I fitted all on my own. The fit, now that I look at it, makes me realise that my skills and knowledge have changed rather a lot since then. It's not nearly as tough as my usual ship.

I've looked at other ships I fitted then. I need to review them all. I have ships it'd be dangerous to fly and embarrassing to lose.

This weekend we said our goodbyes to Debes. Gottii and Elsebeth spoke well. I rue that I didn't join more of his fleets. I always thought there'd be time.

We are not immortal. We just have ways to dodge some of our deaths.

Through it all -- the reason I'm not dwelling on the losses -- has been another kind of heat.

I'm very much alive.

Dawn

Put aside the deaths, for a time.

Together, we will watch the dawn.

Labyrinths

Too much Jonny: I seem not to speak of him at all, yet to write of little else.

Ulf has no middle ground: no moderately grumpy. Nothing more than a slight set to the lips as many things happen, and then *bam* he's coldly angry, acting without regard for reason or proportion. There are things he's learning now that make him angry like that. I think I've talked him into giving the people involved a chance to explain. I was holding off researching the Orca blueprint until he resolved that, and now Revor has put it on.

I need to talk to Misan about LM 2.0. She has dreams for it, I think. I just had... annoyance, I guess. I made it, pointedly, a place for all people, then stopped using it once I realised quite what that meant. A learning. It still has potential, but would need love and attention.

And I've been walking corridors in company, talking clans and truths and illusions. Enjoying that; surprisingly so. Being reminded of something I said once, about fierce joy.

The erendati stir in me again. Inwardly, I smile to them in welcome.

Responsibility

I send images of Maia to Jeannette. She sends advice on colic. We haven't spoken about Jonny.

Eight weeks. Nothing since Intaki.

I remember his hurt dismay at Vieve, who -- when he stood her up on the occasion of their planned elopement -- didn't search for him.

He does a good line in hurt dismay. "How could you think that of me?" "How could she have? She must never have loved me." It's never his fault.

CONCORD says he still holds a licence.

My agent peeked into the records and told me he last docked in TWX-EI. Syndicate. Consistent with Moira's operations. From there he could've gone anywhere in someone else's ship.

I wrote to Jules. The awkward question. Received an answer: prompt and formal. Deep cover; they expect him back soon.

His sister was lost in the Syndicate.

I imagine him returning with some self-righteous story about how he tracked her down. Perhaps with some new love: he has charm, moves quickly, and is not made to be alone. Perhaps with reproaches for me: I should have waited for him, I clearly didn't really love him.

I think I understand Vieve and the pitcher of iced water a little better now.

Pera, I have my problems, but this one is yours.

Accounts

For a year of being debt-free and pregnant I didn't track my working income. There was money in the account: if I wanted more I'd do some work.

Nearly two months ago I opened up my old work-tracking sheets, copied them off and started using them again. Something to take my mind off things. It's bittersweet. Last time I did that was when I was working my way out of the clan debt. I'd met Jonny and he was helping me break that huge job into pieces so I could track my progress and take each next step.

There's still a column in the worksheet for kisses.

I could remove it. I probably should remove it. I'm not quite ready to yet.

Lace

After my Caldari ships, flying the Dramiel is like slipping into slick, silk satin.

With hard, sharp, filigreed accessories.

Colic

Three weeks of wars, and Maia screaming.

These, too, shall pass.

And so they have.

She sleeps, and so do we, and once again I leave.

Consoled through it by kin, and by real words in unreal settings. Real feelings: real fears. Gentleness among the wounded.

I can laugh, and tease, and argue plays and duty. I can know desire, less damped now by despair. Beauty cuts me: sometimes I turn away.

Seven weeks with no word.

I dream of furs and fever and Maia's unappeasable screams.

Völuvala

It's becoming a tradition: breakups and Völuvala concerts.

Good concert. Good to spend some time with Ulf.

Good to spend some time lost in the pulse and the crowd.

Even in stompy boots I can dance.

Grounding

I've been home the last few days. Being with Maia: playing with her, bathing her and cleaning up the incredible amount of drool she seems to be producing at the moment. Talking to Kerem about her Maako, who's into everything now. Sometimes, of an evening, retiring to my place and jacking in to catch up with what's going on in the cluster and chat in virtual venues.

There are stories people tell about relationships: stories we tell ourselves while we're in them; stories others tell about them and might not ever tell the principals. I feel like those stories have been shifting around me over the last two weeks, seeking a new stable state that will become the common knowledge about me and Jonny.

Just before the end, it seemed that Re-Awakened had finally grouped together behind Jonny. I think some of them thought Bacch might be serious in his stated campaign to woo me, and decided Jonny wasn't so bad after all.

Since the end... it's been hard hearing out the people telling me they were surprised we lasted so long; that we never seemed to have much in common; that they're glad of my choice.

As if it were just my choice. As if, had I chosen differently, things would have turned out differently.

I could choose to accept all this: accept the righteous sympathy and acknowledge lessons learnt. I could be smothered back into the embrace of the tribes, ready to become a model Matari pilot with a nice Matari man.

I loathe the thought.

It wasn't like that. Yes, I know – perhaps more clearly with hindsight – that we came together when we were both alone and lonely, exiled or rebounding. We were, perhaps, too different, and not always patient or kind.

But I know the rest of it, too, and I'll not tarnish my memory of that to ease the pain of losing it.

I will try to learn, though. About saying no as well as yes. About it being okay to be me, even if that costs us us.

It's been good, being here. We'll be at war again soon, though, and the engines will need to be stoked. I'll go to the labs and factories and watch Maia through images and Kerem's recordings. Perhaps I'll even fly.

Why?

Lucian asked me why.

How can I say that I don't even understand what our last argument was about? That those reasons aren't the real reasons. That Jonny stormed out again and I realised... that this time I wouldn't follow.

That was yesterday. Today was anger.

Fuck you, Jonny. I did my best through all the crap and I deserved better.

And then deflation.

And so did you.

Someone hurt me, Jonny. Someone hurt you, too? Could we cry in each other's arms and make it better?

Then the real world returns.

Free

Reports are coming through that Intaki is free.

Free from Caldari occupation, that is. Now able, I hope, to work out for itself how it feels about its role in the Federation.

Moira.'s done good work. Jonny should be proud.

I should be happy.

Endings

It's been over a year.

Joy. Audacity. Stories woven together. A daughter.

So many arguments and misunderstandings.

I'm worn out.

My heart aches. Why is who I am not right for you? Not right?

I still wish, but I wouldn't any longer call it hope.

I'm walking through the station mall in Gulf. Just walking. There are people. They don't know me. I move through their cool indifference.

What kind of peaceweaver am I if I can't even manage my own relationships?

I've spent so long not talking about the problems to anyone else. Least said: soonest mended. What do I do now? Once I tell Auntie Mara and the clan... they were getting to know him, to like him, to think he might have a future with them. Once I tell them, it changes. Once I tell them it becomes real.

Am I as concerned about failing as about joy?

When do you say 'enough'?

When do I say 'enough'?

I think I just did.

Please let this not be real.

This is real.

Ancestors and erendati, I am not myself today. Guard me while I fly, for I am falling, voiceless, into the void.

Hitches

I still can't think why I'd say yes. But people do: there must be a reason. Perhaps there's some definition of things that makes more sense.

It would be hard to say no without breaking things: families, hearts. Is that why people say yes?

It would be amusing - darkly - to find I'm the better freecaptain.

Tears

I'm leaving her.

I'm feeding her one last time. It still hurts. Each time the contractions; the scars below still healing.

But the milky softness of her; sharp fingernails; strong grip. Sometimes she looks up at me when she's suckling and I feel a desire to protect her that's so strong...

I'm leaving.

Putting my body into special storage where they'll dry me off, heal my new mark. Shucking off the bonds of blood and slipping into cloneflesh again, unchanged since before all this.

They're all here now, to see her claimed as kin. Mother came. Even Uncle Ashlar stood on the same ground as Auntie Mara tonight. She's one of us now, in her own right, her placenta planted in Paiho, her small body washed in the water of Waitimu and clan-marked in ash and oil, salt and blood. Kerem will nurse her and dry her tears, and she will have blood kin and milk kin to stand beside her as she grows. She has a place and a people while her parents roam the stars.

If I just I keep saying it.

It's also the end of this time with Jonny. My new place is built, and was blessed after Maia's naming. He's done well, working alongside the clan to make something.

I look into her eyes...

I've been checking ships. My crews are ready. I've been debating freespace in virtual bars. My mind is already elsewhere.

My heart is tearing.