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

[technicolourdifficulties]

[Ah, a question that has nothing to do with feelings. Good, good, he can work with this.

RGB lifts a foot, tapping the wooden horse shoes on the soles to draw attention to them.]

Wooden footwear. The sand reacts to memories, you see. If one were to venture into them without the protection of something with a far longer memory than your own...

...Well, let's just say that even though I have some measure of resistance, I can safely handle it for only a few moments before it begins to do its work. Most do not have even that.

[katzenpfote]

... That's a quite strange world you have, it seems.

[technicolourdifficulties]

From your perspective, I imagine so. Humans are not native to my world, so many things I find perfectly normal must seem odd to you.