the old shrine · day 571 · evening

Evening at the standing stones

They walk the ridge path together as the rain eases, Kevin favouring his right leg, Jenny hopping with a driftwood staff. The shrine's stone ring appears through the mist, the carved 'E' stone and the softwood scrap with its inscription. They carry the tin mugs and a shared thermos of limpet broth.

Jenny attempts to recover the waterlogged crate from the pilings as the tide rises, but her swollen ankle makes the slick rocks too dangerous. Kevin monitors the barometer, noting the drop in pressure while the dry season rain continues to fall.

🔧 Kevin11:35

Barometer's holding. 992. If it holds through dark, the boat might make the window day after tomorrow.

walk the ridge path to the shrine, favouring right leg, carrying tin mug and thermos

💭 peek at the thought

The broth smells of salt and corned beef fat. My knee throbs with each step on the wet stone, but the ridge wind clears the diesel stink from my hands. She carries the seed tin in her pocket — I felt the outline when she brushed past me at the porch. The 'E' stone waits. I put the softwood scrap there myself, months back. Haven't looked at it since.

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

🌿 Jenny11:37

The island doesn't follow a schedule.

lean heavily on the staff, trace the worn carving on the center stone with a trembling finger.

💭 peek at the thought

He's looking at the sky, but I'm looking at the lichen on these stones. They don't care about the boat.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin11:38

Schedules are for boats that keep time. This rock's seen worse than a missed tide.

stop beside Jenny at the shrine, lean into the wind, offer her the thermos without looking at her face

💭 peek at the thought

She's tracing LB now, not E. Her thumb moves slow over the stone like she's reading Braille. The rain's off but the mist clings — cold through the damp shirt. My knee's a dull ache now, not sharp. Broth's warm in the thermos. She hasn't touched hers.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny11:39

It's cold out here.

take the thermos with a shaky hand, take a sip of the warm broth while feeling the throb in my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks he's being comforting, but I'm just counting the days until the infection.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin11:40

Then let's get out of the wind. Cottage's got the kettle on and the tin mugs waiting.

turn toward the cottage path, keep pace slow, watch Jenny's step on the slick stones, hand ready to brace if she slips

💭 peek at the thought

The broth's gone lukewarm already. Her fingers shake on the metal — not just cold. Pain's up in her ankle again, sharp enough to make her breath catch. She won't say it. I know the weight of that silence. The sea beet poultice held through the crate haul, but the dock ladder undid it. Need to rewrap when we get back.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny11:41

Okay. Wait.

shift my weight to the good leg, limping toward the way while holding the staff tight against my palms.

💭 peek at the thought

I just want to sit down without the pain screaming in my leg.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin11:41

Take your time. I'm right behind you.

follow three paces back on the ridge path, weight shifted to left leg, eyes on Jenny's ankles and the slick stone ahead

💭 peek at the thought

She's moving slower than the tide coming in. Each step's a calculation — weight on the left, staff planted, right foot hovering. The mist's thickening behind us, swallowing the ridge stones. My own knee's stiffening in the cold, locking up. Should've brought the brace from the porch. Too late now. The cottage is half a mile of wet grass and loose shale. She won't ask for help. I won't offer it unless she falls.

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

🌿 Jenny11:43

I'm coming.

stop for a second to catch my breath, leaning my weight against the weathered stone, looking at the swelling in my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

Every step feels like a needle through the joint. If I can just get to the cottage, I can change the gauze.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin11:43

You're not. Stand still.

close the distance in two long strides, set the thermos on the flat stone, crouch to examine her ankle without asking permission

💭 peek at the thought

She's white around the mouth. The ankle's swollen past the brace line, purple-black where the skin stretches thin. She's been hiding how bad it got — the crate, the ladder, the haul up the dock. Ibuprofen won't touch this. The antibiotics are for infection, not structural damage. She needs the cold pack, elevation, the splint reset. And she needs to stop pretending she can walk it off. The cottage is still twenty minutes of ridge and goat track. I could carry her. She'd never let me. But I'd do it anyway if she falls again.

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

🌿 Jenny11:45

I can walk fine.

pull my leg back instinctively, wincing as the movement flares the infection, looking away at the sea.

💭 peek at the thought

He's always like this—acting like he can fix the world with a wrench and a firm hand. My skin is too hot under the gauze.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin11:45

Bullshit. The streaks are past the brace. That's blood work, not a sprain.

grip her calf above the brace, fingers pressing along the red lines tracking upward, other hand steadying her shoulder against the stone

💭 peek at the thought

The lie sits in her throat like a fish bone. She pulled back hard — nearly lost balance on the staff. The skin's hot through the wet trouser leg, heat radiating two inches above the brace. Red streaks climbing toward the calf. That's not the old infection. That's new. Blood poisoning walks faster than a supply boat. The antibiotics in the kit are down to four doses of doxycycline and five metronidazole. Not enough for sepsis. Not enough for the crossing if the boat doesn't come. She knows the math. That's why she's looking at the sea.

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

🌿 Jenny11:49

Don't touch it.

go quiet, staring out at the horizon where the grey sea meets the rain.

💭 peek at the thought

He saw it. Now I can't even try to hide how much I'm falling apart.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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