Week 7, Saturday - Ion the Nicer

[melancoffeea]

[How many weeks has it been since he was in this room? It feels like it's been months, years. Nothing has changed—or, rather, everything has reverted to its original state. Sandalphon gives the room a once-over, then looks over his shoulder to the door when he senses the presence of another.]

Hm . . . Back already?

Comments

[fragileprophet]

Then I won't go anywhere!

[But yeah...clothes.]

I think I'll start with a shower and work from there. I suppose I must look a little ridiculous...but really, I feel incredibly alive!

[melancoffeea]

Do you? . . . Good. That's good.

[He sits down on the bed, reclaiming his side.]

I won't go anywhere, either. Go and get yourself cleaned.

[fragileprophet]

Okay! Then I'll be right back!

[To become un-gross. He finds himself a change of clothing from the tailor and washes off...but before too long, he's falling back onto his side of the bed.]

It's hard to believe it's finally gotten to this point. And here we are, right back where we started.

[melancoffeea]

[True to his word, Sandalphon's barely budged an inch by the time Ion comes back. After thousands of years of practice, getting lost in his thoughts is no great feat.]

Yes . . . though not for very long. After tonight, we'll all be gone.