FINAL WEEK

[strangerpeople]

FINAL WEEK

[Soon after, many of the figures lay dead. They bodies are splayed all over the stage. The female, however, seems to be gone.

Where did she go? What is she planning? It's unknown. But, soon after the Titled leave the Debate Hall, they are struck with a vivid vision. It is quick, but strong. Another dream, and this time, it is a waking dream.

Another memory. The Depths haven't been cleaned, either. The halls are silent, and no new doors seem to have opened. Yet deep down, you know. The end is near.

Its time to get ready. So, get ready, Titled.

There are seven strangers left.]

Comments

[bythewaves]

"No." Maglor smiles bitterly. "But I have no choice. Thank you, Killua. By even giving it like this you help me more than you know."

A sigh and he accepts the jewel, and Killua might notice that the scars on his right hand match the jewel, but they are red and look fresh, rather than the silver of old scars that they should be. Immediately of contact the nauseating smell of burnt flesh fills the air and Maglor's hand spasms around it, but he never makes a sound.

The hunger in his eyes fade, but the light in them brightens to mimic the jewel, pain replacing need.