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Hooray for sleep.

E-mailed to my co-writer:
Your beta wanted to know why the villagers were rising up against Ambrosius at that point in time. I think I have an answer. Wouldn't you be a little annoyed at the guy who has explosions and toxic waste?

GIP: RTFM n00b. Nibiki the demon-kitty (sooo cute!) and my scratches, retouched by hcolleen. The answer to myrrhianna's obvious question: "Why did you pick her up the second time?" is "Because occasionally, I r vry smrt."

I read the poem to the group. Enthusiastic response. It actually did follow the 5 pages of angst that hcolleen read. We were done way early. There was a new person who had poetry to follow mine. And all was good.

Darkside showed up in my dreams; I found myself answering questions with enthusiasm, and showing off to cadhla, who was mightily impressed that she had been an example, and excited and amused about my general happiness. There was something about a campus, and a play? but most of that vanished in the happy lazy waking-up.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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