WEE͠K ̸́4͝

[strangerpeople]

W҉͘E͜͠͝E̕K̡̛͡ ̡͟4̸

[The blight is all-consuming.

Within days dozens are confirmed infected, and you and your unexpected new scientist friend find yourselves trying to work on a cure. If not a cure, a stopgap of some kind. Anything to prevent this thing from destroying everything. It's hard work. It's not going very well. Really, it feels like with every step forward, you're taking ten steps back. Discouraging is an understatement, to say the least.

A week passes, and the death toll rises. It's really starting to look bleak. You constantly second-guess yourself, and even get into a fistfight with your new ally one night. It's getting to the point where you are working on fumes.

Then, unexpectedly, you get a phone call. It's been a long night, and the sun is beginning to rise above the mountains, when it happens.

You and the scientist are not the only ones looking for a cure. In fact, there are at least a dozen others-and they think they may be close to a breakthrough.

But-and you can't believe you're hearing this, after all of the failure you'd experienced throughout this blight-they need your help.]


---


[To say that the end of last week sucked would be an understatement. To say that no one knows what this week will bring is not even in question. Yet even as you wake, you feel a cloud lift from your mind, as one of the truths you've been living with since the beginning has suddenly changed.]




[But is it possible to abide by this new truth? The Hosts, and IT beyond, seem intent on making that impossible. And the rat...well. Obviously the rat's not an ally. Let's not kid ourselves.

There's only one way to find out if more deaths can truly be prevented-and that's to keep going, and hoping that the new floor that has opened up will offer something in the way of an opportunity.

In the meantime.


There are 11 strangers left in this place.]

Comments

[otherworldlyking]

Sounds like some kind of prayer.

[ He's not a religious sort, but he thought it sounded fairly obvious...obviously he didn't know what to make of the meatball shenanigans so he won't bother commenting on that. ]

Brought this with me.

[ He'll hold up small chalkboard with a lot of writing on it that he's not going to bother reciting. At some point he'll also put it on a desk. ]

[poorlovefool]

...Now that you mention it, that does sound more accurate than calling it a poem. But it's not from the Bible, I don't think.

[looking at this chalkboard, a bit stumped. As he often is.]

Grapes... blight? Is this some kind of metaphor, or was there a vineyard back there?

[otherworldlyking]

I can't say I'd know what would be in the Bible.

[ Because you know, he's never read it. And he never will. ]

Seems to me like some kind of metaphor. And like some sort of speech written down.

[ Something to bolster the troops and a reminder, he supposed. ]

[illusionarymelody]

Or maybe it's the lyrics to a song? I could easily see this being an old folk song for some place.

[poorlovefool]

The poem or the chalkboard? ...I guess the chalkboard doesn't really rhyme. If they're song lyrics maybe someone involved with this would recognize the song. But there's no notes or anything.

[illusionarymelody]

The poem. Very often when studying a song one may only write down the words because they know the melody already. I could be wrong, but it does sound like it could make a lovely song.

[poorlovefool]

You're not wrong. I think my mom would have liked it, she believed in prayer sometimes.

[illusionarymelody]

I could see if I can come up with something? I know my husband at least won't object to hearing me try. I used to be a professional singer in my world.

[poorlovefool]

O-Oh, really? Were you famous? ...Well, why not then?

[illusionarymelody]

Yes, I was famous, my fans are quite disappointed over my retirement. I'll try and think of something by the end of the meeting since I'll need some time to figure out a good melody.