FINAL WEEK

[strangerpeople]

FINAL WEEK

[Well. What else can be said? The Little Courtesy is over. You have all survived. You are now going to your final destination-with invitations to boot. And Charlotte will be getting that private audience, as promised.

But it's not over. Everyone knows it. Confrontation is inevitable. The question is what, exactly, will happen when that confrontation happens-or if anyone will in fact be able to go with Charlotte when it happens. But you've gone this far. There's no turning back. There has to be a way.

Nothing has been certain, or simple. Whatever happens will be no different from the horrors of the Little Courtesy. Perhaps the saying might still hold. Will all be well? Will it?

It must. God help everyone if it isn't.

Seven is the Number, but there are nine strangers left in this place.]

Comments

[katzenpfote]

[He stands up and moves over so he can wrap his arms around Mithos. He smells a little bad, and his jacket still has dried blood on it, and he's a little stiff... but it's warm, at least.]

[eternaldivide]

[ It's fine. It's the warmth that matters most of all. Mithos doesn't let go of the staff completely, but he'll let one go as he goes to grip Caleb's jacket. He cries, but it's silent. He already did most of his crying back when he first remembered this.

The staff just reopened the wounds. Though, were they ever really closed at all?

After a moment he'll speak, but he doesn't let go quite yet. ]

... Thank you.

[katzenpfote]

[He smooths the boy's hair down, nodding and smiling slightly.]

That's... what friends are for, ja?