Dolasach - Of Ivy & Seafoam

― Ivan Turgenev, Fathers and Sons (translated by George Reavy)

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“But grief compels me, maybe even more than sleep. I am waiting for something to last. I know nothing will.”

— Sanna Wani, “Who is the Sun, Asking for Sleep?”, My Grief, the Sun

Aconitum (Monkshood) pendant hand carved by Moon and Serpent, next to a real monkshood. Photos by Poison Apple Printshop

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Dola fails to strike the puck in time, and it manages to slot itself cleanly into her goal. She glances down at her puck then back up at him, both a little in disbelief that that just happened and at least a little annoyed that the taunting actually got to her for a second.

“You can spend them however you want,” she says, putting on a smile. She sets the puck back on the rink. “Anyway, what’s off the menu for my single question interrogation? Won’t be asking anything terribly private but who knows where my curiosity will take me.”

The puck is struck with a solidly strong serve, a clean straight line towards the goal. Dola prepares for a volley, sure that he’ll be able to strike back.

(RE?)connecting; @jeremiahofphilo

Wednesday night. Cool, moderately windy, with the moon mostly blocked by the clouds.

Half an hour earlier than the agreed upon time, Dolasach arrived at the arcade—a flashy building with three floors of entertainment that ranged from the classic crane game, to a newly installed interactive holographic setup ‘that brought VR into IRL.’ Rolling up the sleeves of the beige and navy cardigan that her pouty lover insisted she wear lent her, she made her way deeper inside with a goal in mind.

Recalling that Jeremiah mentioned that he couldn’t figure out some of the machines, she made it a point to take some time to scour the place for anything that either looked like something Jeremiah would know about, or seemed like the right level of complexity for it to still be fun to figure out. Or maybe they could have fun with something they could both figure out together?

It crossed her mind that this was probably way more busywork than Jeremiah could’ve ever expected from her, but after how… Awkward? Some of their last meeting went, she just wanted to try and make sure things go relatively well. Or at least, they wouldn’t have that much dead air if it did get awkward again.

She pulled out her phone and quickly sent Jeremiah a text once she was satisfied with her findings, the time hitting close to their rendezvous.

->Mr. Philo-dendron: Let me know when you’re here, will meet you at the entrance. Take your time btw! No rush :>