I̝̻̣̱͖͚͗̈̆̕T̤̞̠͎̘̜̤ͬͭ̋ͬ͂̃̇́ ̣̱̳̗̋̾̑ͥͥ̀B̮̺͇̝̼̺ͯ͌̾͗̿͋Ē̝̞̼̣̻͙̙̒ͭG͓̜̅͐̽̐͞Ï̜̳̥ͯN̯͙̮ͧ̀Sͫ͐̂͏͖

[strangerpeople]

I͔T̫͉̄ͮͮͪͧ ̲̜̪̥̓̈́͂̚̚B̫̲̼͕̦͓͕ͩ̏̊͆E̥̱͚̦͓̍G̠̬͓̟̥ͪͣ͆ͬ̓I̅ͯͣ̿N͐̉̎̂ͫͧS͑͆̒ͣ̆


[There is a blight in the vineyard.

It started without warning, deep into the crop. No one noticed. The blight was an insidious little thing, cultivating itself in the weaker vines over the long winter. Then, when summer came, it struck, and there was no stopping it.

The farmers could only watch the blight ravage their gardens. Grapes shriveled up by the bunch, day by day. Sometimes, it would be hours between the time a perfectly healthy vine caught it, and the time when the fruit was little more than black ash and slag. The problem was so serious that it threatened the very future of the business. It was all the farmers could do to try and isolate the sections of the vineyard still healthy, and the parts that were as good as dead.

Then, one day, it happened. The business recieved a phone call.

The blight was no longer just in their vineyard. It had spread to neighboring farms, and everyone was demanding answers. Yours could not have been where it started. It just couldn't have been.

Where did this pestilence come from? Could it be stopped?

You do not know, and you fear what the answer may be.



-



Good morning, Strangers.

Wake up. Look around. Do you feel like this might be familiar? Not your surroundings, but the circumstances. Do you feel the fear in your stomach? Do you sense the wrongness that permeates the air?

You should. Because your gut is right. You are exactly in what you think you are. Right now, there is no other explanation. There is only the sureness of experience informing you that you have been plunged into a game, once more without your consent. A game where blood will be spilled, and death will happen.

The only other thing you are sure of are the thoughts that pop up when you think of your circumstances. No matter what you do, you cannot shake the finality, the truth of what you are thinking. You cannot deny your own beliefs, after all, when they are so embedded, so imprinted on you, that they are as a part of you as anything else, like your face, or fingers, or hair.

And so perhaps you remind yourself, as you ready yourself to leave the house, of the truths you know to be real.



So steel yourselves, Strangers. You know what to expect; there will be others like you, trapped here. Maybe it will, this time, be for forever.

So welcome, one and all. Welcome to the City at the very End, in the eye, the center. A City that gave in long before the code distorted and collapsed and unleashed a virus on reality. Make yourselves comfortable.

You are not going


an̛͡y͠҉w̸h̢ȩ͢r̸͝e̸.]

Comments

[poorlovefool]

[Eric scoffs at that.]

You think that's gonna keep me alive?

[mermaidkin]

Are you kidding me? It's the only thing that's kept me alive this long.

[poorlovefool]

That doesn't make your company sound safe!

[mermaidkin]

It's the only thing, but it's such a simple thing! Would you not want to live on the moon just because the moonbase is the "only" thing protecting you from the lack of atmosphere?

Here's what I'm saying. At any moment, you could just - mentally sign the dotted line, and indefinitely be secure! You have that option!

[poorlovefool]

Yes actually, we are all trying very fucking hard to make sure we don't get to the future where we have to live on the moon.

Thanks, but no thanks. I only have feelings for one person and that's how it's gonna stay.

[he actually gets a bit of a halo there]

[mermaidkin]

Ohhhh...

[This moon thing makes Hiyori croon in soft realization to himself. He keeps listening to the end, and... His lips quirk mysteriously, like he wants to laugh.]

Well, be careful what you wish for, Prince Eric.

[poorlovefool]

[Eric just makes a face. sha la lala lala why oh why this nickname]