WEEK 6.

[trustwellness]

WEEK 6 With the deaths of Viktor Nikiforov, Varric Tethras, and Killia, you're down to half of your original number. There's only fifteen of you left. How much longer before your number drops again? Saturday is given to regrouping and rest; on Sunday morning the clock chimes as it always has, but at least there are no bodies to find today. It seems you're safe for now. The night before wasn't necessarily a peaceful one, however; you'll probably feel a bit groggy when you wake up, and it seems you've regained something that you didn't realize you'd lost... Of course, that doesn't mean that you've gained nothing else among the many, many losses you've faced; it seems that another floor has been made available to you for surviving another week. Congratulations and well done, even if you might not necessarily appreciate the reward. APPRENTICES REMAINING: 15

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[OOC: Welcome to week six of Trustfell! Feel free to make as many top levels as you'd like and tag out to other characters! This post is for all of your interactions this week... at least until the weekend. Don't forget to save those threads for coins and the activity check!

If you'd like to get in contact with the Wordsmith, you can do so through letters or the switchboard!]

Comments

[oyashiromama]

[The last few weeks, Elda had listened to her, in whatever way she could. Despite any disagreements they could have, Hanyuu- it isn't in her nature to sit by when another suffers.

Especially not a friend.

So she holds her, and pets her hair, and lets her wail. They can sort out everything else later. In whatever way, the loss of family...it transcends all fights.]

[matchbreaker]

[ Elda Marker doesn't have near the wherewithal or the selflessness to comprehend their argument right now - let alone more tangential things like whatever apology she owes Vanille - beyond the emotional responses she has in this moment. In this moment, a sea of confusion, fear, and conflicted memories are all stirring, whirling in his mind.

And Elda Marker cries. Wails. Bleeds a little, on her knuckles.

But she also appreciates the warmth of her friend, the one who she had been putting through far too much on her behalf but who she had been trying so hard for as well. There's some irony in leaning on a god when you've so defamed a holy place.

The thought isn't entirely lost on her ]