#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
18. To be continued… Thanks for listening to this thread of the #TeatimeStoryhour. Stay tuned for #Chapter3.

#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
17. More pie? Will-o-wisp mincemeat?

#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
16. The kids grew quiet. Rabbit was a master storyteller but a bit long-winded. Plus they’d heard his 1001 tales 1001 times. Magda’d rarely been heard at all, and who/what was that fern-leaf? Why did she wear that mask? What did her face look like?

Obscenity
#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
15. “The vessel holding the captives was forged from a sentient-metal. Landbayse holds sovereignty over the organisc  — extending down to the rotting, the decomposed, yes — but metallurgy is the domain of Sxience and the Mankind. Fuck! Light! How could this be? Unholy ways...”

Obscenity
#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
14. She leapt forward, as if the story’d already begun. As if we knew it. Had known? Will remember? Were her eyelids tattooed, as some claimed? Like prisoners’ tattoos meant to reply to their guards w/ each blink. Had anyone really seen her face? Scarred & marked? Lonely & winsome?

Nudity
#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
13. “I’ll tell you about the Landbayse” said a woman’s voice from within a chamber. It was Magda, who’d rarely been known to speak, her body unclothed but for her mask, her silver-fiddlehead fern companion always close by.

#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
12. “Alright, well. How about this one?” asked Rabbit.

#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
11. An enormous, collective yawn broke out among all critters great & small. The human & non-human people peanut gallery grew restless. Or maybe just bored. Or maybe just hungry, but for what? More pie?

#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
10. “We know that story already,” said the kids.

#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
9. “But Nester was not like the other seagulls...,” said Rabbit.

#TeatimeStoryhour — #Chapter2
8. “Though seagulls are often thought to be quite the same as one another, interchangeable, this is simply not true. Nester & her tribe had always lived on the coast of Portugal near Sintra, where they watched over the Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, whose tears had mixed w/ tides...”