W͜͏̶Ę͏E͝͠K͝͞ ̧1̵͟

[strangerpeople]

W͜͏̶Ę͏E͝͠K͝͞ ̧1̵͟

[The national council just announced the blight to the country.

There was no sugarcoating it anymore. This was a critical time. Saving all of the vines is paramount, but what does one do when the blight hits? It keeps encroaching on the grapes, day by day. Entire clusters, entire bunches, dead and rotting, while allowing the blight to spread, and the leading botanists and viticulturists cannot identify the origin or the cause. They can't even successfully isolate the culprit in their labs; it seems to disappear like air no matter the precautions taken.

It is a catastrophe that seems to be beyond science, and it will result in the complete collapse of the entire country's wine industry. Already, embargoes on this year's crop have forced other grape-growers to close shop for the year after they'd sold their previous stock; it is all too possible that no grapes might ever be grown here again if a cure cannot be found. The tourists have stopped coming. The towns have grown silent.

You, meanwhile, are devastated. With the way your business is going, it will be on the brink of bankruptcy within the year. You will soon have no choice but to close shop and let every grapevine die, let the land go fallow. There must be a cure for this, there must be. Yet everything that can go wrong is.

Then, as you watch the news, it happens. Breaking news. The blight has been found in another country.

It is a pandemic-and it is only getting worse.


-

Well. This is...what else can can anyone say? You all know the deal. You all know what situation you're in. All that is left is to figure out what you can do about it. If there's anything that can be done.

You still feel that compulsion to distrust. To know you cannot win. To know that only the hosts have your best interests in mind. It would be easy to just do all that. But would it be the right thing to do? You can't be completely sure. Indeed, nothing is certain here, except for that damned ticking sound. If only you could stop it.

But you can't stop it. It is inevitable.


There are 15 strangers in this place.]

Comments

quietly threadjacks, let me know if this isn't ok?!

[narcoolepsysensei]

[There's a soft yawn from over on the bed, before a sleepy voice pipes up.]

It was an average-sized modern home, probably meant for around two to four people, except it was located on Pluto.

A strange figure spoke with us through the television set... he seemed to believe by using us, he could somehow gain the power he needed to destroy some evil entity? ...I slept through most of it, honestly.

[THANKS, NANAKI]

...Miss Bright and I were in that house, as well.

[katzenpfote]

... Is Pluto another planet?

[narcoolepsysensei]

...Yes and no.

It's a dwarf planet on the outer edge of the solar system which Earth inhabits. Of course, if you're not of Earth, I suppose that means little to you.

[katzenpfote]

Eh... no. It doesn't mean much to me at all.

[narcoolepsysensei]

It's much, much farther away than anyone in my world could travel, let's put it that way. No man nor birdie would survive that trip. A machine can, we can get pictures, but even then it takes years and years and the machine can never return home.

Does that help give a sense of scale?

[katzenpfote]

[He tries to imagine it... it sounds like another plane, but there are portals to other planes that can be accessed. To be even further than that...]

I... think so.

[narcoolepsysensei]

I'm sorry I can't help give a more concrete answers, but I have a feeling if I resorted to my world's method of calculating distance, it would be no more helpful to you.

[katzenpfote]

Well we use miles and feet, but I am not sure if your feet are different.

[Caleb was that a goddamn pun -]

[narcoolepsysensei]

...Ahaha. Well, no, right now, I'd wager our feet are pretty similar!

[NANAKI WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING THIS.]

Well, it's more a matter of that isn't going to be the way we measure planetary distance. I could convert between my measurement system and the Imperial system pretty easily, but light-years aren't exactly convertible.

[katzenpfote]

... I do not know what a light-year is, so I suppose you're right.

[narcoolepsysensei]

Right. And I wouldn't want to bore you with the details.

[...]

...Also, let's be honest. I would probably fall asleep mid-lesson.

[katzenpfote]

... When you do, should I wake you or just let you sleep? I haven't been sure.

[narcoolepsysensei]

Oh! You can wake me, it's fine.

My students do it all the time.

[katzenpfote]

Ah. While I've heard of your condition, I don't really know much about it, so I didn't know.

[narcoolepsysensei]

It is what it is.

[Nanaki waves a hand dismissively.]

My sleep schedule is a wreck, anyway, as you can imagine. You pretty much never have to worry about whether or not it's okay to wake me up. I'll just go back to sleep anyway! Makes it convenient.

[.....that's one way to look at it???]