93:
Forever Hold Your Peace
Daisy:
I opened my eyes very slowly, very carefully. It was dusty; it
smelled wrong.
Jennifer!
My
hand is on her. She’s breathing: I feel it in my breast, with my
arm, my wing. So is Aurora, under the other wing.
The
most horrific night imaginable is over. The sun is rising. The sky is
gray, almost dark, filled with smoke. I startle awake the rest of the
way, and look.
Not
far above us, the entire hillside up the valley is on fire. There’s
a crisp line: it caught

92:
The Big Event
Daisy:
I
was there when Aurora gave birth to her last harpy, and shortly after
that I gave birth to Tiffany, who by her own design now looks exactly
like her name always implied: the bratty, entitled, and super-pretty
“mean girl”; but her personality is anything but: she’s just
thrilled to be here, alive, free of a disease that was getting ready
to take her life; so she’s sweet and enthusiastic and was barely
out of my womb before she asked who she was supposed to swall

91:
The Great Orgy
The
last harpy touched down at 7:31pm PDT, at an apartment building we
collectively owned and were using for support, rest, and shelter.
It
was over.
Three
days and nine hours and thousands of stories like the one you’d
just read before the leaders of the resistance got themselves on
television and told their supporters to stand down. That they’d
lost the battle. That “we” controlled the armed forces, which we
did (very easy to infect legions of companion-starved, horn

90:
War Stories
Daisy:
I almost don’t want to write this entry. There’s something about
leaving these things behind, sparing you things I wish we could have
forgotten. Even in victory there is often defeat of a different sort;
and where I’ve always wanted freedom from pain and misery things
are done that can’t be undone and that causes pain that, sadly,
lasts.
It
would be irresponsible to the future of this world not to share some
of that pain with you, knowing that joy comes with the ba

89:
One
Daisy:
We tried everything. We really did. I did one last panel debate – a
ninety minute televised special where I tried once again to answer
all the questions while sitting across a clear acrylic table from a
self-described “representative for humanity”, a local politician
trying to use the escalating “crisis” for his own personal gain
by using more or less the exact language we’d seen online: that we
were “aliens” bent on destroying humanity and everything that it
stood

88:
Jennifer’s Dream
Daisy:
Jennifer’s
dream
was inspired by Tiffany’s unbirthing.
In
her dream, we had an outdoor wedding. There was no religious
overtone, no church, no priest or pastor, no cameras, just our
friends. Leila, perhaps, could officiate; take our vows and
symbolically bind us together forever.
At
the “kiss the bride” moment, we both remove our wedding gowns and
reveal, to everyone’s surprise, the wings we’ve been hiding
beneath the entire time. We look deeply into eac

87:
Twosome
Daisy:
Okay, lover. The trip wasn’t so bad. Almost everyone at Rose
Family Farms is Level Three: in fact, there are only two employees
here that aren’t, and they work in packaging and have been here
like a hundred years.
I
arrive in a produce truck and am escorted to a small room where I
drop my panties and climb onto a sofa covered in plastic and I’m
left completely alone (as was my wish) to do my thing. I let
Jennifer’s thoughts come through me, let her coordinate the effo

86:
Daisy Can’t Dance
Jennifer:
I adore waking up to see a mop of Metallic
Teal #640
between my legs, because that vision is followed immediately with
this wonderfully warm and sensitive tongue in exactly the right
place.
I
do wish at times that I could just attach myself to Daisy’s body
and stay that way forever. We’ll do that, someday, but there are
just so many other things we want to do first, and unless I get bored
with this,
and I don’t think I will.
Daisy’s
tongue dives deep int