WEEK 8

[grimgrinningghosts]

[Two months. Two months of being trapped in this mansion. Two months of heartbreak and despair. Two months of wondering if you are all going to die here.

You finally have a real ray of hope thanks to Mr. Walt, but even he claims that it will be a hard journey ahead. You all have to be strong, physically, emotionally, any kind of strength will work against what you're up against. Maybe take the next few days to rest before the long journey, or prepare for the dangers that await, the choice is yours, but...

Will you be able to escape?

8 guests remain]

[ SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY ]

{OOC: Don't forget to read and respond to our endgame details/check in!}

Comments

[defyingfrigidity]

[It's okay, Ford. If Elsa is crying, you're allowed to cry too.]

I-I'm glad you think so. I didn't... I wasn't sure what to make for him, and I didn't know if this would be okay or not...

[If it would hurt too much or not. God, she knows the statue she made after Anna was killed still hurts when she looks at it...]

[sixfingeredstan]

[Slowly, with a little creak of complaint from his knees, Ford hunkers down on his haunches to put himself on a level with Elsa. There are tears trickling down his cheeks, now, into his stubble, but he pays them no mind. Gently, he lays a hand between Elsa's shoulder blades, offering a gentle, comforting touch. His voice is just a little creaky when he speaks.]

It's wonderful. Honestly. I'm...very touched, Elsa.

[defyingfrigidity]

[There's a moment of hesitation before she speaks again, because she can tell he likes what she made, but she always felt a little hesitant when she did something like this.]

Would you like another one? Something small... small enough that you can carry with you?

[They probably won't be able to take the memorial with them, so maybe he can still have a little something...]

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford's eyebrows draw upward in surprise, and he looks visibly touched. He perhaps shouldn't be surprised, anymore, that people are willing to do nice things for him, but he is, still. He squeezes his eyes shut briefly and a few tears slip out of the corners.]

I'd love that. Really.