Unreachable Sea

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Walking out of the Haha Science Commision building, Pencil carried Match above her head. 
Match was wrapped in a restraining burrito like thing. It's proper name was probably 'straight jacket' but Match didn't like thinking of it like that. 

Pencil followed a path in the moonlight after a while of talking about Match's last 20 years. The trees were black shapes in the night. 

"It's a good thing I made the tint in the ceiling. I only knew it hurt you guys because Coleus told me. She also told me about the water thing," Pencil said. The path was thin. All sorts of weeds and bushes brushed Pencil's ankles. 

"Water is one of the only things that calms us," Match said. 
"Oh good, I should make more water features then," Pencil lowered the Match burrito so she could get a look at her, "You're like a little monster baby haha!" She giggled. 
"Like, a billion year old baby maybe," Match said, although it lacked enthusiasm.
"I'm sure it could happen. Somewhere out there in an alien world," Pencil said. 
"Yeah…" Match said. 

Pencil ran into a clearing with freshly fallen trees. She stopped to take a look, placing Match down so she would 'stand' next to her.
"Not really sure what I'm going to put here, but once we have the space cleared we can give you guys houses and whatnot. Do you think it would be a good idea to make houses that are completely filled with water?" Pencil asked. 

"If you like, didn't put anything else in the house then maybe. Water breaks stuff down. You'd have to make waterproof furniture and still make it compy," Match said. 

"We can invent it! But maybe for now I'll just make extra big bathtubs for everybody," Pencil smiled.
"A single room just for water might actually be a good idea," Match said.
".... Oh yeah!" Pencil said after thinking about it. 

She picked Match up and continued down the path past the clearing. As she was darting around in the bushes, eyes reflected her way. A dark shape dashed out of their way. Pencil stopped to watch.

"Woah," Pencil said. 
"I think that was like, the keyboard," Match said. 
He was about 20 feet away, but Match could still see his outline amongst the trees. 
"It's so cool to see 'em in the wild," Pencil chuckled.
"Don't be rude Pencil. He can hear us, and he's got no choice but to act that way," Match snapped.
"Sorry.." Pencil rubbed the back of her 'head'. 

The keyboard darted away into the darkness. 
"I'm actually kinda scared they might try to ambush me. Should I be scared?" Pencil asked. 
They were surrounded by miles of encapsulated wilderness. The remcamen could be anywhere. 

"Maybe a little, but if they thought they had a chance to get you, they would've already. The Queen knows where I am. Also I can sense if they were joining up to try to like, slam your face into a rock of something," Match said. 
"Yeah, yeah.. the sense thing. I wish I had that right about now. Erm, since you can use it, I might bring you to Boinks so we can find all the remcamen," Pencil said. 

She continued down the path, holding Match up above her head.
They were quiet for a while.

Match returned to the inside of her own mind. A woman werera or rather, werecamen, was talking with her sister about the difficulties of baking bread. They sat out on their porch on wooden chairs that were made locally. They laughed and talked about funky customers.

Match being an object, never had a family. The closest thing in an object sense was a date or a system of mentors and apprentices, similar to parents and children. She looked down to Pencil who was carrying her above her head. If she had a sister she'd want it to be her. 

As the dirt turned to sand Pencil eventually followed the trail to the treeless beach.
Long grass sitting still, but fireflies dotted it, blinking and floating. Most of the sandy parts and the entire water feature of it was locked out, but Match could hear the sea still. Collapsing onto the sand, and getting sucked back into the whole of the great water. Softly lapping the land in a predictable yet satisfying collapse, retraction, and spilling recollapse.

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