WEEK 2

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 2

[A week has passed. There's been no body, no investigation, no trial. No deaths. Congratulations!

Now the question is, will it last? At the moment, the Commander seems content with forcing people to do petty and mean-spirited errands in return for a mere shower. On the one hand, it's just for showers. On the other hand, what if the demands start to get more extreme? Would caving in encourage her? Is anyone willing to try and find out?

Honesty, with all the strange dates and information floating around from what's been uncovered, the only one in this place who's probably not worried as the time slips into its next movement is Sir Riprazor McRockfang. That's right, he's a sir. A grumpy sir, yes, but still a sir. No one's going to mess with him, regardless of what his true origins may be. And if they do, beware - he bites. Omnom. Good luck, everyone.


There are fifteen strangers - and one alligator - in this place.]

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[mementodagger]

[It’s his mother.

He remembers how her hands shook as she plaited the beads into his hair. He remembers her singing, her voice halting and barely a whisper. She held him close when she finished, cuddled her son who was too young to be a man and too worn by sorrow to be a child. He begged her not to leave him alone but of all the things she’d done for him it was the one wish she couldn’t grant.

”I love you, Yurick. Be brave.”

He remembers feeling the breath, the life, leave her, and he stayed with her long after she’d grown cold and his tears dried.

But the dead can’t return. Surely even this place with all its strange technology couldn’t tear down the door between life and death. The offer stings, a slap in his face. He crumples the paper and flings it into a corner before storming off to the library for the rest of the day.]