the keeper's cottage · day 416 · dawn

Sheltering from the West

Heavy rain lashes against the west wall, blurring the view of the garden wall. Jenny sits on a chair with her ankle elevated, while Kevin checks the barometer reading under the eaves.

Heavy rain lashes in from the west, keeping both indoors at the cottage. Jenny tends to her swollen ankle while Kevin monitors the rising barometer and de-salted notes. The tide is coming in, increasing the pressure on the dockings.

🌿 Jenny00:31

It's steady at 989. Stop staring at it, Kevin. The rain is already here.

Reach for the pot of boiling limpets on the stove and pour a serving into a tin mug.

💭 peek at the thought

The air is too thick. I can feel the infection pulsing in time with the rain hitting the roof. I need to move or I'll stagnate.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin00:31

Holding steady. Good sign.

Walk to the stove, take the other tin mug, and pour the remaining limpet broth.

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Barometer's held steady three hours now. Rain's here whether I watch the needle or not. Better to check the shackle at high water like I said I would.

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

🌿 Jenny00:33

It's a stalemate, not a win.

Take a slow, shaky sip of the broth and wince as the movement shifts the weight on my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks "steady" is a victory. It's just a stalemate. My stomach is cramping; I can't think straight without fuel.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin00:33

Red lines haven't moved. No heat past the mark. That's not stalemate.

Set my mug down on the table, pull up the stool beside her chair, and gently lift her trouser cuff to check the pen line on her ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

Stalemate's better than dropping. She's masking the pain — jaw tight, sip shaky. Red lines haven't moved past my mark. That's the win, if there is one.

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

🌿 Jenny00:35

Don't. I can feel where it is. Just let me eat.

Pull my leg back sharply, nearly splashing the broth, and grip the mug with both hands.

💭 peek at the thought

I hate being examined like a specimen. He's looking for a miracle in a ink line while I'm starving and shaking.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin00:35

Fair enough. Eat.

Pick up my own mug, blow across the steam, and take a sip while watching the rain sheet off the porch roof.

💭 peek at the thought

She pulled back hard. Nearly spilled it. Pride or fear — doesn't matter. The line hasn't moved. I saw it yesterday. I'll see it tomorrow. Pushing now just makes her dig in.

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

🌿 Jenny00:37

I want to finish the beet sketches today. While it's too wet to go out.

Eat several limpets quickly, chewing slowly to make them last, and glance toward the damp notebook on the table.

💭 peek at the thought

He's doing that thing again—watching the horizon instead of looking at me. I can feel the weakness in my joints, but the broth is starting to hit.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin00:37

They're on the table. Dry enough to work.

Finish my broth, set the mug aside, and pull the notebook closer to me to check the pages for her — see which ones are stuck, which are readable.

💭 peek at the thought

She wants the sketches done. Good. Keeps her off the ankle, keeps her mind on something that isn't the infection or the radio silence or the boat that may or may not come. The notebook's right there — damp pages, her handwriting, the salt gland drawings I watched her do by lantern light.

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

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