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5/1/2025, 11:23:50 AM
You don't know. You guess you thought, for all these years, that no matter how bad things were, at least you were on a daring quest with a magyck talking snake in tow. And now he isn't magyck and he isn't even a snake.
«But I do talk.»
«And you are on a daring quest.»
Even more of a daring quest than you thought. You're not complaining, mostly, you just... it's hard to think about. At least his snake machine works: you're not any lighter, but you crackle with renewed energy. Which is great, because everybody else is waiting for you. "I-I-Is everything okay?" Gil says.
"Yes!" you say, and hasten forward. You won't need Richard helping you walk 24/8, will you?
«I will enhance your muscle density as soon as I have the chance.»
Great. Whatever works.
—
Earl, preternaturally chipper for— when?
«It is 4:12 in the morning.»
Earl, preternaturally chipper for 4:12 in the morning, keeps up a flow of conversation, mostly with Claudia, whose curiosity has outweighed her ambient annoyance. She recognizes Earl's glorb as "mega old-fashioned" (obsoleted by flashlights, she says, then has to explain flashlights to the three of you), wants to know what sort of things live in the Fen, if anybody's ever been eaten out here (given the time of day, Earl dodges the subject), whether he believes in the gods or not, if he's ever met somebody made of goo before...
You're tempted to tell her to knock it off, but it's better to be talking about normal things than dwelling on monsters or lurking Luckys. Richard makes fun of your positive thinking, but have you ever been ambushed in the dark? No! Because you know you won't, and then you don't, and you won't be this time, either. And you aren't. Earl finds the mouth of the cave system that leads to Hellsbells, instructs everybody to hold hands ("or wrists! whatever you gotta do!"), and extinguishes the glorb. Blackness.
It could be the blackness, or the sudden surrounding swell of the earth, but you can only wobble a few steps in before collapsing to your knees. You are drawn down, down, down, sinking, suffocating, your only lifeline Gil's slick cold hand, which grips yours firmly. "Wait!" he says to the others, and "Lottie?" to you, but you can't respond. To your bad eye, the sun in your chest is this cave's only light. It has swollen. Gil's tidy spiderweb stretches toward it. Your breath is loud in your ears. Richard—
«Interesting. It's amplified here.»
«I'll handle it.»
>[-1 ID: 11/14]
(2/3?)
«But I do talk.»
«And you are on a daring quest.»
Even more of a daring quest than you thought. You're not complaining, mostly, you just... it's hard to think about. At least his snake machine works: you're not any lighter, but you crackle with renewed energy. Which is great, because everybody else is waiting for you. "I-I-Is everything okay?" Gil says.
"Yes!" you say, and hasten forward. You won't need Richard helping you walk 24/8, will you?
«I will enhance your muscle density as soon as I have the chance.»
Great. Whatever works.
—
Earl, preternaturally chipper for— when?
«It is 4:12 in the morning.»
Earl, preternaturally chipper for 4:12 in the morning, keeps up a flow of conversation, mostly with Claudia, whose curiosity has outweighed her ambient annoyance. She recognizes Earl's glorb as "mega old-fashioned" (obsoleted by flashlights, she says, then has to explain flashlights to the three of you), wants to know what sort of things live in the Fen, if anybody's ever been eaten out here (given the time of day, Earl dodges the subject), whether he believes in the gods or not, if he's ever met somebody made of goo before...
You're tempted to tell her to knock it off, but it's better to be talking about normal things than dwelling on monsters or lurking Luckys. Richard makes fun of your positive thinking, but have you ever been ambushed in the dark? No! Because you know you won't, and then you don't, and you won't be this time, either. And you aren't. Earl finds the mouth of the cave system that leads to Hellsbells, instructs everybody to hold hands ("or wrists! whatever you gotta do!"), and extinguishes the glorb. Blackness.
It could be the blackness, or the sudden surrounding swell of the earth, but you can only wobble a few steps in before collapsing to your knees. You are drawn down, down, down, sinking, suffocating, your only lifeline Gil's slick cold hand, which grips yours firmly. "Wait!" he says to the others, and "Lottie?" to you, but you can't respond. To your bad eye, the sun in your chest is this cave's only light. It has swollen. Gil's tidy spiderweb stretches toward it. Your breath is loud in your ears. Richard—
«Interesting. It's amplified here.»
«I'll handle it.»
>[-1 ID: 11/14]
(2/3?)
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