AHH! I forgot I died in this... Oh well! I'll still be reading up a storm.

This is wonderful! So glad you guys are back. 

Ziggy says <<burpd>>. Did they burp? Eurgh, it smells. 

This is quite exciting to read, I'm happy there's still updates. I'll be (patiently) waiting for the next update!

(bye the way, I changed my name to GloomyBear. [nickname: Gloomy] I was previously Reuby Moonnight.) 

@Admins,

Previously, we asked that you edit one of our comments to include the rhyme "five little ducks..." 

I think our wording mus have been confusing, as you edited the thread description rather than the comment. That's ok, it's not that important—but would be able to undo the change? Namely, delete the rhyme "five little ducks..." from the thread description.

Thank you, and sorry for the trouble!

- Hex/Eclipse 

OK, done.

Admin

@Celine: thank you for your kind comments! (yesss discworld!!) however, elaboration on proposed plotholes (silver, Humpty Dumpty) would be appreciated, as you've probably read this whole thing much more recently than we have and to be quite Frank (although not entirely, we've been over this, as I'm not Frank—but I can put up a good façade) I have no idea what you're talking about :) and yes, we forgot to include the rhyme in the last part—it was going to be "five little ducks" if you want to look up the words

@Parody: it is rather unfortunate to forget you're dead. Must be a bit of a nasty shock... but thank you for reading!

anyway, here's the next part—a bit of a ~twist~ coming up... 

(oVo)

Once I saw a little bird

Come hop, hop, hop;

So I cried, “Little bird,

Will you stop, stop, stop?”

And was going to the window

To say, “How do you do?”

But he shook his little tail,

And far away he flew.

(oVo)

Storytime is rudely interrupted as Artemis points up again. But she’s not pointing at where Jynx fell from. Instead, she’s pointing at an object rapidly hurtling down towards all their heads. A… pigeon?

The Pigeon. 

Artemis screams. Peri doesn’t notice, she has been staring blankly at Jynx’s body for the last extended period of time. Sterling and Writing_in_the_dark jump, cling to each other—then, disgusted, push each other away onto the ground. Darkvine points as if she’s trying to cast a spell (not a witchy one). Hex lifts their umbrella. Poinsettia laughs at the pigeon. Darkling laughs at Poinsettia. GloomyBear turns, runs, trips on a strange rock and tumbles to the ground. 

Normal behavior. 

Amethyst, however, runs toward the pigeon with arms outstretched. However, she is wracked with a coughing fit before she can reach the bird and instead tumbles to the ground much like GloomyBear, except she has a very limp, very purple, very dead pigeon in her hair. She hugs the bird tightly, tears clustering in her bright eyes.

She cradles the dead pigeon close. The others have strange but similar expressions of confusion on their faces. 

“Ok, this is a bit weird, even for me,” Darkling admits somewhat grudgingly. 

Pause. Amethyst is now openly sobbing, holding the pigeon to her face mournfully. she whispers. Then she sits up:

“We must have a funeral.” 

They are all a bit taken aback by the change in mood. They look at what was Jynx, lying on the grass. Sterling shrugs:

“Well, we did discuss this and there is a lack of a shovel. No water deep or wide enough for burial at sea. But you’re right—maybe we could burn her body?”

“Her? The Pigeon is—was a non-gender-conforming entity.” Amethyst says tearfully.

“The… Pigeon? We’re having a funeral for The Pigeon?” Poinsetta’s voice is outraged but muffled with confusion and fear.

“Well, who else would we have a funeral for? It’s not like—” Amethyst turns, voice breaking off, but it is unclear whether it is due to the dead body that comes into her frame of view or the coughing fit that pounds through her lungs and throat. There is another long pause.

“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too right in the head. I think I’ll just sit here for a bit.” Amethyst’s words get fainter and fainter until only Writing_In_The_Dark, who is right next to her, can hear her voice. There is a long pause as they watch her figure stare aimlessly at the grass and the dead purple bird (which is not to be confused with the blue birds, who sing a bit obnoxiously through the silence). 

Artemis speaks, finally: “What in the world is going on?”

Darkling, as usual, misunderstands the question completely. Or perhaps understands it better than any of us could: “Well, general misogyny, politics, climate change, do you want the current news updates? The New York Times sends out a daily that I can forward to your inbox. What’s your email?”

Everyone else ignores Darkling, as usual, for no-one understands them nor will they ever. Artemis does not share her email. GloomyBear starts crying. Peri stares at Jynx’s body, disbelief still in her eyes. Finally Darkvine speaks up:

“There’s got to be a way out of here. Maybe it’s just a dream or some twisted game and we need to find the exit and it will all be set right. Did anyone find a path or exit gate during hide and seek?”

There is general silence punctuated with a couple head shakes. Someone laughs, no one knows who.

“Well, then we didn’t go very far anyway did we? So let’s hop to it!” 

Darkvine’s voice is bright, witchy, and not particularly motivating, but the group doesn’t see (or hear, taste, touch, smell) anything better to do. They separate into groups and set out to find this vague exit which may or may not exist.

Amethyst sits in the grass. She coughs. She digs a small hole in the dirt and lays the pigeon down. Her head hurts. Her eyes focus on the pigeon. The purple pigeon. She coughs, crying. The bird looks like it’s crying too. She covers the sick bird with grass, wipes her teary cheeks. She coughs. Her eyes widen with realization.

“And then no more little ducks came back.” 

(oVo)

Dead: Jynx, Amethyst, (The Pigeon)

Alive: Poinsettia, Darkling, Sterling, Reuby Moonnight, Writing_in_the_dark, Periwinkle, Artemis, Darkvine, Hex

(oVo)

I regret to inform you that my friend, The Pigeon, has turned up dead quite suddenly. I will be your caretaker while we find a suitable (not that The Pigeon could have worn a suit, as they were a bird, but let's ignore the impossibilities of this figure of speech—and anyway I think he would look quite dashing in a plaid two-piece) replacement... please join me in a moment of silence for our beloved troublemaking friend. *silence*

Signed,

The Mourning Dove Who Is Also Currently Mourning