Writing: Nuada, continued

    As promised in my blog challenge, a little something that's more interesting than a month long dissertation on my life. 

    It's not a lot, because I was sitting in a car and we got home, but it follows off of the confrontation in the diner, sort of, and hopefully you all remember that. If not, I'll throw in the last few paragraphs of what I last posted for Nuada.


    As she slid into the driver’s seat, the young woman felt moisture fill her eyes and knew that what she usually did when she was this upset was call Maggie.
    Her head ached as she started the old Mustang and backed out of the diner’s parking lot to find the motel even though she just wanted to drive.

    The room Nuada acquired for the night smelled strange and didn’t look all that clean, but she didn’t find any bugs or mold in her inspection, so it would suffice. She dumped her bags on the short dresser.
    Sound from her neighbors’ TV filtered through the wall and she was too tired to care. Drawing the curtains and throwing the bolt, Nuada crawled onto the bed, setting her cell phone’s alarm to go off early the next morning.
    Her head hurt as much as her chest did in the moments before sleep took her.  The young woman refused to let herself cry, though, her dark hair strewn across the white pillow case. Still in her clothes, Nuada drifted to sleep.

    Beep. Beep. Beep.
    Panic filled Nuada when the noise registered and she bolted upright, drawing in a breath as she took in the dark room, grey light just beginning to filter through the edges of the curtains. 
    She checked her cell, which had finished peeping at her. 0500. Gram’s Burgers opened in half an hour to cater to the truckers hitting the road at this hour, and Nuada planned to be there before too long.
    A tightness to her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten a full meal in… Nuada settled her feet on the floor, running a hand through her mussed hair. Days, she decided. Having to spend so much time with her brother had caused her emotions to be on a constant high, and depleted her appetite to almost nothing. 
     Nuada considering going for a run as she dug through her bag for a new set of clothes, but decided against it. She didn’t want to risk an encounter with just about anyone right at the moment. 
     It took ten minutes to shower and set her hair to rights. She didn’t leave anything behind when she went out to her car, not having any plans to stay another night. 
     She settled into the front seat and checked the time again. 0525. Silvery eyes stared out the windshield as her fingers drifted to the paper tucked into the breast pocket of her lightweight jacket. 
     It’d taken hours to decipher Dad’s scrawl, and days to realize just what the short message had meant. 
     The Mustang protested as she started its engine, cutting off her own thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She had to talk to Mr. Stafford, figure out exactly what was going on, and then somehow cut ties with her brother and friend enough that they wouldn’t hound her.
     Weariness weighed on Nuada’s shoulders as she backed out of the motel’s parking lot and got onto Main Street. The town had nothing to hold her attention; she’d been through too many in the last two weeks alone. 
     As expected, Gram’s Burgers had several large semis pulled into the sizable parking lot, but most the front row of spots were available and Nuada pulled into one on the far end. Now that she was here, the thought of food was almost nauseating, but she knew she had to eat. Especially if she wanted to put in some distance later that afternoon.
     The door creaked as she pushed it open and stepped out, dragging her messenger bag with her. The morning air was still chilly, but the sky was a mix of pink and blue with the rising sun. 
     For a couple of minutes, Nuada just stood and breathed. There wasn’t a lot that beat country air in the wee hours of the morning and she hadn’t had a lot of chances to enjoy it; not with the hours she’d been pulling to get herself and Agyros here by Mr. Stafford’s requested date.

    Not a lot, I know, and it'll be void before too long if I can stagger through NaNoWriMo (the whole series of events after the diner are going to change; drastically) but it's something.

    And now I need to either sleep or watch some TV. I haven't decided which yet. 

    Thanks for reading!

    Ad astra per aspera.

    To the stars, through difficulties.

Writing: Steampunk -- Ruusan

   My schedule is really erratic these days, isn't it? Life has been hectic and that's really all there is to it. My family will be moving into our new house this coming Wednesday and then we'll be getting settled into our routine.

   The scribbles for today, though, are back in the steampunk setting, but with Ruusan. I didn't think I'd ever get back around to the steampunk, but another facet of Ruusan's character called to me, so I did a small amount of writing.

   They're both pretty self-explanatory. Sarris died a long time ago, having never met Novarr. Novarr has also passed on by this time, possibly from illness or an infected wound; I'm not sure. Ruusan is a nurse and has Vivian, but Cameron is gone by this time as well. 

    On that depressing note, shall we?


   Ruusan settled back in the intricate cast iron chair outside the small café, one hand resting on the matching table set alongside her tea cup. Blue eyes took in the busy street with a certain level of reserve. It's been too long since I've been able to just sit.
   Across the tabletop, her longtime friend and mentor sat with a similar pose, but instead of her brown gaze being on the people and variety of transportations, Ruu could feel Lauren watching her profile, waiting for the reply to her inquiry.
   It took her a few more moments to formulate the rest of her answer, then Ruusan looked back to her fellow nurse, a quiet sigh leaving her. The expelling of breath loosened the corset of her dress for a few seconds, enough that she was allowed a brief respite from its tightness.
   "I can't, Lauren," she said at last. "I just... can't. I work twelve hour days to pay the rent on a home that I hardly see. My daughter spends more time with Mrs. Vhander then she does with me. Both my father and my husband are dead. I can't ask someone to have to-- to-- I don't know, deal with that? Come to terms with the fact that this heart of mine would probably never be truly and completely his, not unless he was someone very special? No man deserves to have to live up to another man's shadow and I would never ask him to. Please tell your cousin that I will have to decline his invitation, Lauren, and to find another woman who can accept and return his affections. Because I cannot."
   There'd been hints of a smile on the older woman's face while Ruusan had been speaking, but now it's truly there as Lauren nodded her understanding. "Don't fret, Ruusan. You didn't need to get up in arms on me. Fred just talks of you a good deal and finally asked if I'd be willing to relay the invitation to you. And I did and you declined."
   Relief filtered through her thoughts and Ruu's answering smile is a bit subdued, but heartfelt all the same. "I'm sorry. I just get tired of offers from parties who don't realize what they're getting into."
   Lauren stood while listening, taking a few coins from the purse looped around her wrist and setting them beside her empty cup and saucer. "And that's perfectly understandable. I'm meeting my mother-in-law for lunch, so I need to hurry home to freshen up now, but I'll see you in a few days, yes?"
   A quiet nod. "Yes. The matron gave me a week off so that I could recover completely. I'll be back on Monday."
   "That's good. The hospital isn't quite the same without you there. Just make good use of your free days, Ruusan. They'll be gone all too soon. Take Vivian out to the gardens in Ironstate, or just go out for the day. Spend time with your daughter." Lauren checked that her hat was still on straight, brows raised to make her point.
   Even though she kept her seat, Ruusan smiled again, chin leaned into her palm. "I'll be sure to do that. Thank you for meeting me today. I'm not used to being out of touch."
   "My pleasure." Warmth colored the raven-haired woman's voice and then she was gone, whisked away by the flow of people until not even a trace of her long brown dress could be seen.
    Alone again, Ruu lifted her tea cup to finish the last of its contents, nose wrinkling when the lukewarm liquid washed across her tongue.

*****

   Ruusan smiled at the woman who came to receive the package of bread, water, and two blankets the medical team was handing out, feeling her chest contract in pain at the other female's wary expression. 
   Her skin was darkened with dirt and her extended hands shook visibly. Settling the wrapped bundle into her awaiting palms, Ruu wished there was more she could do.   
    There was no murmuring of thanks before the ragtag woman disappeared into the gathering crowd. The nurse soon turned her attention to the next person to approach, determined to fulfill her purpose here so she might return home. 
   Return to Vivian. 
   Blue eyes took in all but revealed little as the afternoon wore on towards evening. 
   It was two small faces, peering at the goings-on, that broke through the carefully maintained barrier Ruusan had to erect around her heart. Grabbing the nearest unclaimed package, the curly-haired woman slipped from the safety of her fellow nurses and their police guard.
    Her hard-soled boots skidded on the broken cobblestones as she made her way to where the children had been moments prior. Their hunger-pinched faces had disappeared, but Ruusan was fairly certain they wouldn't he far. The draw of food would be too strong to allow them to stray any great distance. 
   Rounding the corner of the decrepit building they'd set up their operation near, Ruu searched the shadows for the two young ones. 
   "Come out. I'm not going to hurt you," she called, her voice quiet but beckoning. "I have food and water."
    Ruu couldn't see where they might've gone, and when they didn't reappear after a few moments, continued down the passageway, glancing back the way she'd come. 
   She'd give the food to these children, and then they'd go home, back to the hospital and their respective homes.
   Turning her attention back to her path, Ruusan realized somewhat belatedly that a man had appeared now, staggering along towards her with an expression that caused fear to curl through her on his features.
   God in heaven, protect me.

   And that's all I've got for the time being. My siblings and I are currently bunking with our cousins, so with fourteen-some kids in the house, it's kind of crazy.

   But for other news, Penny and I are looking at doing a couple of "blog challenges" over the next couple of months. Keep an eye out for a massive amount of posts from the two of us as we attempt to keep up with these journaling prompts.

   For those who are curious as to what ones we're looking at using, drop me a note and I can get you the Pinterest links.

   Thank you much for reading and feedback is always welcome!

    Ad astra per aspera.

    To the stars, through difficulties.

Writing: Changed Woman and Wounded Returning [Jaz]

    That was an uber-lame title, wasn't it?

   So, surprise! Here I am. I continue to live and fight on through the last week of regular school we're doing before starting to get the house packed up. I can feel the minutes slipping away from us and it's a mite disconcerting.

   But, today I was getting my writing excerpts for the critique groups at the OYAN Summer Workshops all sorted and printed and such and realized I had a bit that I could post for Jaz that I hadn't already posted. (...That was a total run-on sentence.)

   There are two bits, though, one preceding and one following a fateful mission that Jaz underwent. Long and short of it, Jaz goes on this suicide mission in a bid to prevent the outbreak of a war, and while she succeeds, she's caught an explosion that lands her in a foreign hospital with a bad case of amnesia. After time, she gets into mercenary work with another woman named Tracey, who will appear in the second bit.

    And now my dad is calling us to do money, so if the combination of this explanation and the bits are completely confusing to you, just leave a comment and I'll attempt to explain it so it makes sense.

   Also, please take WARNING because there are mentions of torture in the first bit.


     Jaz didn’t have to take the mission. Whitecourt made that abundantly clear. He wasn’t even one hundred percent sold on the idea, except that it could be the deciding factor in whether or not war broke out between Busan and several other of the dominating city states.
    She stood in front of his desk, hands deep in her pockets and her face impassive as he explained what the job would require.
    Stealth, accuracy, intuition, and very possibly her life.
    The weathered commander studied his subordinate, searching for a reaction to his words and finding none, not to his surprise.
    It’d only been three months since her fateful mission with Mio Sonera and Levi Dayton, and while the wounds on her body had healed, the scars on her heart were deep and jagged. He didn’t know that she would ever truly recover from the blow those deaths had landed.
    She hadn’t known how it happened, but their cover had been blown from the moment they stepped into the party. Their target had had all three of them in his clutches before the end of the night. There had been no chance of escape, no way to send someone for help. Jaz’s report on the incident had been everything required, and he could easily imagine what those events had done to her on the inside. Her life being spared was purposeful.
    Tetson had tortured all three mercilessly and sent the one who lasted the longest home as a message.
    She’d stumbled back into Busan, broken, bleeding, and eerily devoid of the devastation one would’ve expected to see on her face. He’d been ready to send out any available units to search for them when she’d shown up in his office, rasped out a “Jasmine O’Haire with mission details, sir” and collapsed in a heap on his floor.
    It had taken the captain a solid month to recuperate, during which time he’d been forced to field the demands for answers from all four of her overprotective teammates, who’d been unaware of her mission altogether.
    He’d visited her a couple of times while she’d been in the hospital, and it was clear she’d changed. Granted, the cocky smirk returned quickly, but there was a steely edge behind it, like it could’ve been dropped in a moment and replaced with an expression that hid everything from those around her.
    As soon as Jaz had cleared both the medical and psychological evaluation though, she’d been in his office, ready to accept a mission, but “I can’t work on a team, sir. Not right now.”
    The majority of solo missions were involved in the collecting of information, taking weeks as opposed to days to complete, and requiring much more patience and subtlety to carry out. Discernment as well. The agent had to know when to pull out and how to keep a low profile in the town or city that was their target.
    The remaining percent of solo missions were ones that Whitecourt, and Busan as a whole, didn’t endorse. They were high-risk operations that required the highest skill and precision that a city could have to offer as well as stealth and speed.
    They were more commonly known as suicide missions.
    Jaz hadn’t been his first choice for this task. There’d been several other black-ops captains he’d had in mind, but most of them were away on different ops with their teams, or just returning, and this would require a departure within the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours.
    “Can I have some time, sir?”
    It was her only request after he finished explaining everything and it was readily granted.


   And that is bit one. Following thus far? Hopefully so, because here we go onto the second.


    Jaz approached the city with Tracey by her side, frowning as the gate loomed overhead.
    “Hey, do you get the feeling we’ve been here before?”
    The other woman glanced her way, brows rising. “No. Do you?”
    “Yeah, for some reason,” Jaz murmured, shoving her hands deep in her pockets.
    They continued into the walled city, passing through the gate guards without a hitch, their falsified credentials getting them in as planned.
    Jaz had to stop after a few minute when a stand selling fried bean paste buns came into view. Her gaze settled on it, face unusually blank.
    “We have work to do,” Tracey said, a few paces away.
    “And this place is creeping me out,” Jaz’s tone was short as she passed Tracey, shoulders tense. “Let’s get this job done.”
    Her companion didn’t comment, falling into step beside the auburn-haired woman. They weren’t far when someone called after them.
    “Jaz...?”
    It was a man’s voice, uncertain but with an underlying note of hope.
    She stopped, exchanging a glance with Tracey. If they hadn’t been here before, why did someone know her name...?
     Jaz sighed and turned partially to see two males, instead of just the one, as she’d expected to see.
     Neither of their faces looked familiar, but it seemed like they recognized her, which was unsettling.
     “I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Jaz said, a faint smirk on her lips.
    The blond one’s fist clenched around the foodstuff in his hand. “This is not funny, Jaz. Where have you been?”
    “There was never anything funny in the first place, kid. You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
    He strode forward and grabbed her by her upper arms. It was all she could do to not fell him with one blow, and she could see Tracey tensed up as well in her peripherals.
    “Jaz, its Dan. You know me, and Zack, so quit fooling around.” Desperation showed in his hazel eyes in a way she didn’t see very often.
    “Look, kid, I’m sorry. I honestly don’t remember know you, so just, let go of me, will you?” Jaz attempted to step away from him and escape the tight hold he had on her, but he didn’t seem to have plans to turn her loose anytime soon.
    Horror dawned in his eyes. “You’re telling the truth. Zack—“ he turned partially towards his companion, who hadn’t moved since she’d turned to look at them.
    He did now though, coming forward slowly, his dark eyes trained on her face with some caution. “Whitecourt’s going to want to see her.”
    “Everybody’s gonna want to see her!” the blond exclaimed, still not having released Jaz and she’d had enough.
    It was an easy enough task to bring her arms up, grab his elbows and yanked them inwards before shoving them up, causing a pained yelp to escape him as his fingers finally loosened. Jaz took a neat step back, all intentions of humoring their case of mistaken identity any longer fleeing.
    After all, what else could it be but mistaken identity? She couldn’t see herself living in this city with these people. Something about it didn’t sit right with her.
    Crossing her arms over her chest, Jaz’s jade eyes were cool and it was clear that she was done. Around them, people still went to and fro on their business, but it was relatively calm with minimal noise, likely due to the hour.
    “I’m sorry if I remind you two of an ex-girlfriend,” she said, voice crisp and to the point. “But I have business in this city and you’re keeping me from it.”
    Tracey, standing in Jaz’s peripherals, was taking in the proceedings with nary a thought showing on her traditionally unexpressive features.
    Despair showed on the fairer of the two. Dan, was it?
    Thinking the name made pain spark behind her eyes so she stopped.
    “Please, Jaz, don’t do this. We can help you. Whitecourt said he’d sent you on some mission; an important one. But you never came back and we searched for you, but we never found you.”
    She blinked impassively at him. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about. I have no active relationship with the military force of any city, and I don’t intend to have one.”
    The other man put his forgotten snack into Dan’s hands, then faced her with a steely glint in his gaze. Something in his eyes put Jaz on edge and she narrowed her gaze a fraction, trying to discern his thoughts.
    “Jasmine O’Haire, I am placing you under arrest on charge of suspected treason—“
    Her eyes widened, but her accuser’s counterpart got a word in before she could.
    “Zack! What on earth are you thinking?” Dan shouted, grabbing his friend’s arm, his panicked gaze going to Jaz.
    The darker of the two didn’t react to Dan’s outburst, glancing him a look. “Trust me on this.”
   Jaz shook her head, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Her smile was bemused. “They said that Busan was a pretty weird, but accosting visitors to your fair city with false accusations of treason?” Her voice hardened. “That’s a whole new low and one that I do not have to submit to.”
    “You do and you will,” Zack replied, unmoved.
    And, watching him, Jasmine decided not to fight. She shrugged and asked with somewhat flinty humor, “Am I allowed a private word with my friend, or have I lost visitor’s rights already?”
    It was apparent that Zack didn’t appreciate it, but he nodded once. “One minute.”
    “How generous.” Jaz replied, voice flat, then she gestured to Tracey and they walked until they were out of earshot.
    Her partner’s eyes were narrowed. “You could get away.”
    “I could. But I’m not going to. Finish the job and beat feet. Tell Sakimoto that I bailed or got injured or some convincing crap. He’ll believe you and should give you my half of the payment. If not…”
    Humor glinted in Tracey’s blue-green gaze, something that not many people were privilege to. Jaz smirked in return.
    “It’s been nice working with you, Trace,” she said at last, extending a hand.
    Tracey clasped her forearm and pulled her forward into a brief hug that Jaz hadn’t expected but didn’t protest.
    “I’ll see you around, O’Haire,” the older woman said, touching her fingers to her forelock in an informal salute before she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
    Jaz shook her head and refused to acknowledge the faint wistfulness that drifted through her.
    Before turning back to her latest acquaintances, she wiped her face of what she’d shown to Tracey and settled on something decidedly bland.


   Hm, need to go put a warning in. Hang on a sec.

   And done. Now I must run.

   Thanks for reading and again, I have no problems explaining things I have bungled, so feel free to leave questions in the comments and I'll get to them as soon as I can.

   Ad astra per aspera.
   To the stars, through difficulties.

I Yet Live/Writing: Steampunk Jade and Kensey

   No, really, I do.

   And I think there's still some life in these fingers and some breath to the characters in my head, but between going from one end of Korea to the other, trying to do schoolwork, taking a two-week computer hiatus, and trying to figure out getting moved completely from Korea in the next month, things have been a bit touch-and-go, to say the least.

   So, while I would like to say I'll be able to post something for you all in the near future, I can't promise anything, because the next four weeks are going to hold a lot of craziness, and then there'll be a whole bunch of craziness for two or so weeks after that, and... Yeah. There's a lot going on.

   Granted, there's a chance that the craziness will drive me to write something, if only to escape all that's occurring, but we'll see.

    In the meantime, I found a short scribble I wrote for Steampunk Jade during her four year leave of absence, with a woman named Kensey who was the main reason she was finally able to get her head put on straight. May or may not have mentioned her in the summary I did for the Steampunk. Totally can't remember now...


    “What’s your story then?”
    Jade glanced at Kensey from the corner of her eye, then turned back to cleaning out her gun. “There’s nothing to tell.”
    “I disagree,” Kensey drawled, sloshing the bottle of brandy around, watching its contents with distracted interest.
    The younger woman didn’t reply, intent on her task, and hoping that she would give up her line of interrogation. Jade had no desire to explain why she’d left Sanbourne almost four years ago, and even now, she had to stop in her work to take a breath.
    Four years.
    Shak, Nathan, I’m sorry.
    “And that is exactly why you should have some of this,” the brandy was dropped on the table beside Jade’s elbow. “Then start talking.”
    A quiet exhale. “Ji.”
    Kensey pulled herself up to sit on Jaden’s other side, mouth quirked in humor. “You’re one tough cookie, kid, but no one can keep locked up forever.”
    I’ve lasted this far, haven’t I?
    “Oi, stop ignoring me,” the blond interrupted her thoughts, now sounding cross.
    Jade leaned back in her chair, drumming on the wooden desk with her oil-stained fingers. She fixed the elder woman with an calculating look. “I have nothing to say about myself, Kensey, and I’ve made myself clear on that several times now.”
    “Don’t you get hoity-toity with me, kiddo,” Kensey grumbled, grabbing the brandy to drink straight from the bottle, as she’d been doing off-and-on all evening.
    Jade almost wanted some of the burning alcohol; memories haunted her stronger than usual tonight, and she knew from experience that the liquor could dull that pain.
    “What a pair...” Jade said on a quiet breath, returning her attention to her dismantled weapon. 
    She continued to rub the now-filthy cloth along the inside of the barrel, taking care not to scratch the interior.
    Kensey frowned. “Excuse me?”
    “Nothing, Kensey,” the Gogamian murmured as she pulled the rag free and set about putting her gun back together.
    “You are honestly so very strange,” the woman said, jumping down off the table and taking her brandy with her.
    Jade hummed noncommittally, sliding her gun back into its holster, and then starting to scrub the grime off of her fingers. The oil lamps in the room all flickered as a strong breeze blew through, ruffling Jade’s hair.
    She shook her head to get her bangs from her eyes, noting how they had lengthened recently. Kensey had retreated to one of the armchairs, and was flipping through a log while continuing to nurse her alcohol.
    Jade thought she was preoccupied enough to drop the earlier subject; she wasn’t.
    “Who was he?” the sick woman voiced after a long silence, the abrasiveness she was known for dropped from her tone.
    “My brother,” Jaden almost didn’t get the words out, because her throat tightened as she said them. “But I was the fool.”
    “We’re all fools in love,” Kensey replied.
    “I suppose you could say that,” Jade stood up, pulling on her shoulder holster like a jacket, then putting her trench-coat on as well. The night air was chillier then normal and she was starting to feel cold.
    “Why’d you leave?” the blond prompted behind her.
    She was tempted to ignore the other, to refuse to continue saying it aloud, but Kensey was tenacious; she’d keep coming back until she’d heard all she wanted to.
    “He got married and I couldn’t accept her, so I left.” Jade relented after a few moments of quiet.


    And that's all I've got for the moment. Again, I'll see about working on stuff, but balance is kind of key right now and some things will have to fall lower in my list of priorities then others. So.

    I'm off to clean and vacuum my room. You all have a good day/night/whatever and thanks for being patient with me!

    Ad astra per aspera.
    To the stars, through difficulties.

Back Online

   It's a bit early (Friday evening) but I'm expecting a busy weekend, so I decided to get on now as opposed to tomorrow in a bid to Skype with Penny, if she's not busy.

   So, yes, I'm back online, and hast got news. Exciting news.

   First of all, we have received our assignment from the military and sometime before the end of August, my family and I shall be moving to the Pentagon, which is balanced somewhere between Maryland and Virginia. This came as only a complete surprise to us, as we never expected to be placed anywhere near there. We were expecting Germany or Japan before D.C. But, on the bright side, we'll be near our cousins and only a day of hard driving from Penny and her family. So. Much fun.

   Second of all, I am registered for the OYAN Summer Workshops hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Schwabauer in Olathe, Kansas. I have a pretty good chance of making it, but, at this point, it's looking like I will be flying across the Atlantic Ocean solo to get there. Which Mom is very much not thrilled with. I don't think she'll crush my dreams and refuse to let me go, though. But we'll see what happens.

   And otherwise, we have my mom's grandparents and aunt coming next Thursday, and we're going to be crazy hectic busy the two and a half weeks they're here, with trips planned all over the peninsula. I'm.... not completely thrilled, as we've already done a good deal of what we're going to take them to see, but there's not a lot to be done, so.

   I'm not sure what my posting schedule is going to look like between grandparents, travelling, schoolwork, starting the whole move, prayerful Workshops, and so on and so forth, but I will attempt to get something up every now and again.

   I've had a lot of inquiries as to whether or not I intend to continue with my Sean and Lindsey scrawl and I've always said I didn't think there'd be anything more for them, but they've had other ideas. I haven't gotten anything written down yet, but there's been movement in my head, so I shall attempt to see about sitting and getting it down one of these days.

   And.... I believe that's about it for the moment. I got a fair deal done with my two weeks offline; not as much as I would've liked, but it went pretty well, so. Hopefully I'll figure out how to balance schoolwork and computer from here on out, especially with only three weeks left to our school year.

   As always, thanks for reading. You all are awesome.

   Ad astra per aspera.
   To the stars, through difficulties.