the old shrine · day 922 · night

Night watch at the shrine

Kevin and Jenny sit together at the old shrine under a thickening cloud ceiling. The tide is high and loud against the cliffs. Jenny's ankle is wrapped and elevated on a pack; a fresh sea beet poultice steams faintly in the cooling air. Kevin has the shortwave radio on his knee, volume low, listening for the supply boat's night check-in. The barometer reads 1020 hPa and steady. The supply boat is due tomorrow at high tide.

Kevin and Jenny spent the evening at the old shrine as the tide fell and the barometer rose. Kevin confirmed the supply boat's arrival for tomorrow's high tide and monitored the radio. Jenny rested against the shrine stones, managing her ankle infection with antibiotics and a sea beet poultice while tracing the carved initials.

🔧 Kevin07:11

Boat's on schedule. Captain confirmed two-hour window at high tide. Impeller's aboard.

adjust the radio volume a notch lower, letting the static settle into background noise

💭 peek at the thought

She's watching the horizon where the boat will come from. The silence between us isn't empty — it's full of everything we haven't said about staying, about leaving, about the letter to Tom still folded on the kitchen table. The radio crackles low. Barometer holding. Tomorrow changes something, or nothing.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:13

Tomorrow. It better be.

Lean my head back against the cold stone, closing my eyes against the pulsing throb in my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

The fever is making the stones blur. If that boat doesn't show up tomorrow, I don't have the strength to walk down to the dock again.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:13

Barometer's steady. Wind's west-southwest. He'll make it.

reach over and rest a hand on her good ankle, just brief — contact without words

💭 peek at the thought

She's not asking. She's stating. The difference matters. Her ankle's been hot for three days straight and she hasn't complained once — just worked through it, mapped through it, mapped while feverish. Tomorrow the boat comes and she'll have to decide if she gets on it. I already know my answer. Don't know hers.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:15

I know.

Pull my leg away slightly, staring at the dark horizon where the sea meets the sky.

💭 peek at the thought

He's trying to read the air, but the infection is still moving up my shin. I can feel the heat through the gauze.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:15

Two more doxy doses after tonight. Metronidazole's holding the line.

pull the radio closer, scroll through the weather fax frequencies, giving her space

💭 peek at the thought

She pulled away. Not hard, not angry — just... removed. Like the touch reminded her of something she's trying not to feel. The horizon swallows the last light. She's counting something in her head — days, doses, distances. I've seen that look in engine rooms when a bearing's going and the captain won't slow down.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:17

I hope so.

Reach into my pocket and trace the cold edge of grandmother's seed tin.

💭 peek at the thought

He talks about medicine like it's anaging parts manual. I just want the pain to stop vibrating in my bones.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.