2024-06-21 - Blue

The flizzy bubbles that often sprang up in Gwillanth's mind when the Pertemarth appeared had sank, had dropped to uneasy weights in her throat and her middle, and it had thoroughly unsettled the eavesdropping Portoro. This was not normal. The Pertemarth should show up. Their minds should bubble and spark as one. Everything would be good and then they would say 'goodnight.' That's how it went, that's how it should go - this was unusual.

Portoro had to fix it.

"Hello?"

The feeling was funny and so were the thoughts. Was Pertemarth bad?

Was blue bad?

Portoro squirmed.

"I love you." It was deliberate this time, not like its earlier babbles, an echo but a knowing one. Portoro was certain it would grab her attention this time. It tried again. And again one more time.

Then it tensed, and with all of its tiny might, it shouted.

"Pertemarth, come back!" It was as hard as Portoro could shout. That ought to do the trick.

And as if it could affect such things, it waited expectantly.

Was 'blue' bad? It flung the question wide as it waited; it's companions wouldn't know and it only set off a chorus of chattering about 'blue.'

It looked further into the other minds, tried to pick through Gwillanth's complicated feelings. It thought it found 'blue' then - blue was pleasant and comforting, dreams of wide skies and inviting swims. Blue was possibility and adventure and surrounded that world outside. Blue was warm and blue was Pertemarth.

And some did not like blue - not like they liked "gold."

It confused Portoro more than ever; exhausted from the effort, it relaxed into troubled sleep.

Nobody was without worth who could make Gwillanth feel like that. Nobody was without worth at all.