The Crossing Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecrossinglogs2025-01-18 12:15 pm
thecrossingmods) wrote in thecrossinglogs2025-01-18 12:15 pm
THE CROSSING #1
THE CROSSING #1
It's time.
For more detail on the particulars of the event, be sure to refer to our info and planning post!
For more detail on the particulars of the event, be sure to refer to our info and planning post!
time to choose
— CALM BEFORE THE STORM
It likely isn’t a surprise, when The Ferryman speaks into your mind again. You’ve known The Crossing was coming, and for the past hours, days, or weeks (however you prefer to section your time in this place), you’ve been feeling it drawing closer.
You’ve felt the pull on your soul, guiding you to follow The River; you’ve felt the changes in the Cavern, and in yourself, a shift in atmosphere that seems to start in the humidity of the air and sinks deep down into your bones. You feel solid. More importantly, you feel vulnerable.
Those who want to pay the toll are invited to gather at The Ferryman’s point of vigil; those who don’t will at least have the draw of The Crossing to guide them.
If you have anything to say before the split, now is the time to do it.
— LIGHTS OUT
Because when the moment comes, it waits for no one.
The Lantern doesn't extinguish immediately. Those gathered with The Ferryman (and, perhaps, those gathered near The Ferryman) will see it: a precarious flickering of flame behind glass. The light shrinks, and with it comes a feeling of something else retreating, too — something that you may have understood was there without realizing it, or that you may have assumed was simply another aspect of the light itself.
The bubble of safety, you realize, is receding. And when The Lantern's Light finally goes out, so too does the shield keeping you separated from the wraiths prowling the tunnels.
The darkness closes in. The Cavern's glowing plants are now the only steady source of light in the entire chamber, which allows your eyes to adjust, but only so much; it becomes difficult to make out the faces of even those standing right beside you.
It's time, so says The Ferryman. Make your decision.
follow the leader
— PAYMENT COMES DUE
There is no pomp or ceremony associated with The Ferryman's toll collection. You need only to be willing, and ready.
The darkness seems to shroud The Ferryman more than it does the rest of you, somehow. You can't make out the features of their face, only hear their voice bidding you to step forward when you're ready. For any of you who might need a moment, The Ferryman will wait.
A mote of light appears in The Ferryman's palms as the toll is paid, growing in proportion to the number of memories it receives. It's small, but you can feel the influence of it: that protective bubble you felt recede when The Lantern extinguished grows again around the light, just enough to envelop the group gathered here.
Time to go, says The Ferryman. And even though you can't track their movements in the darkness, the light tracks it for you: over the lip of the land bridge, and down to the black River below.
Nowhere to go but forward. When you step off yourself (even if it takes a bit of psyching up to get there), you'll find that the drop is gentle, and that your steps suspend safely over the water.
Just don't get left behind.
— HEAR A VOICE THAT CAUSES YOU PAIN
And so, you journey.
You walk on the surface of The River as if it were a wide, black road. Ahead of you, that same mote of light follows in the steps of The Ferryman, illuminating the ripples they leave in the water as breadcrumbs for you to follow. The air above The River is cold, certainly, and sometimes the icy water might splash up onto your shoes or ankles — but The River is wide, and there's room enough to walk together, even if you can't see each other well. It's as comfortable as a journey like this might ever be.
But The Crossing is a trial. You didn't forget, did you?
It starts slow: sounds from the darkness that could be voices, unless it's been dark for so long that your ears are playing tricks on you? Shouts of anger, high-pitched laughter, cries of fury and despair.
Then there are words. They beckon to you from the darkness: some plaintive, some punitive. They want you to stop. They want you to stay. They want you gone. Most of the voices are unfamiliar to you, but at least one, you know very well.
You need to keep moving. If you lose sight of The Ferryman's steps, you run the risk of being lost in the Cavern forever. Or perhaps it's someone beside you who's on the edge of losing their focus, someone who needs you to help keep them on the path?
trust your gut
— FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE
The rest of you, left behind on the banks of The River, have only your wits, the contents of your pockets, and the pull of something beyond the darkness to help you on the journey. The darkness is smothering, but not completely impenetrable: you have the glow of the Cavern plants, the faint gleam of the toll group’s steps on the surface of The River, and anything you may have picked up before you got here.
You can travel together or alone, but you must move. The metaphysical pull on you is growing stronger and more insistent the longer you stay in one place, and the Cavern, before preternaturally silent and still, is beginning to stir.
The wraiths, once silent, shapeless, harmless shadows following you about the Cavern, have changed. Where before they were merely unsettling to look at, now they have become larger and more monstrous: sharp eyes and claws, wide eyes and mouths. Where before they were silent, seemingly both unable and unwilling to make any sound, now they wail: wordless cries of pain and anger giving away their positions in the darkness.
Some of them may even be familiar to you, once they get close enough; the wraiths that before had seemingly taken a liking to you, seeking you out and following you wherever you went, now seem dedicated to hunting you specifically.
What the wraiths want from you, it's hard to say. If they catch you, they will tear at you without strategy or direction, like a ravenous animal — or perhaps a terrified one.
Any injuries you sustain during this time, whether from the wraiths or otherwise, are just as real to you as they would have been when you were alive: you bleed, you break, and you feel every inch of the pain inflicted on you.
Nowhere to go but forward. If you follow the pull in your gut, you'll get to where you're going. One way or another.
on the other side
— A MOMENT OF RESPITE
Whichever trial you've chosen, there is, eventually, the end.
You feel it first in the atmosphere: a resettling of the off-kilterness that's been surrounding you. The air slowly becomes drier, and the darkness less punishing. The plants that line the walls of the Cavern become more and more rare, their light replaced by ambient light leaking in from somewhere above you.
For the group traveling with The Ferryman, the wide expanse of The River gradually becomes shallower and narrower, until it's hardly a trickle beneath your feet, winding through the cave system. For the group traveling on their own, there comes a point where the wraiths seem unwilling or unable to follow, their shrieks in the darkness growing further and further away.
You feel it next in yourself: a smoothing of your rough edges, aches and muscle pain and physical exhaustion melting away. For any injured on the journey, your wounds resolve themselves as if natural healing on fast-forward. Natural healing is not always the cleanest or the most comfortable, though; you might be left with scars, crooked fingers or noses, or some other lasting memory of what you risked to be here.
Lastly, once The River has narrowed enough and two groups have reunited again: The Lantern relights. The Ferryman, for all that they were nearly invisible to you in the darkness, seems just the same as they were before. You made it through, they tell you, with no small amount of warmth and pride. Let's take a load off.
You should rest. If you took anything from the Cavern to help you on your journey, you'll find that it's gone from your pockets — when did that happen? Did you set it down? It's been such a long journey, it could have been a lapse of memory.
A memory? Ah, there's something else gone too, isn't there? Willingly or otherwise. If you try to reach for it now, it's like dust in the breeze, or a dream upon waking. You know it was there once, but the harder you try to recall it back, the thinner the details get. Eventually, you might not remember even that there was something to forget.
Congratulations. The Crossing is complete.
Image credits: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 + stock imagery unless otherwise noted
It likely isn’t a surprise, when The Ferryman speaks into your mind again. You’ve known The Crossing was coming, and for the past hours, days, or weeks (however you prefer to section your time in this place), you’ve been feeling it drawing closer.
You’ve felt the pull on your soul, guiding you to follow The River; you’ve felt the changes in the Cavern, and in yourself, a shift in atmosphere that seems to start in the humidity of the air and sinks deep down into your bones. You feel solid. More importantly, you feel vulnerable.
Those who want to pay the toll are invited to gather at The Ferryman’s point of vigil; those who don’t will at least have the draw of The Crossing to guide them.
If you have anything to say before the split, now is the time to do it.
— LIGHTS OUT
Because when the moment comes, it waits for no one.
The Lantern doesn't extinguish immediately. Those gathered with The Ferryman (and, perhaps, those gathered near The Ferryman) will see it: a precarious flickering of flame behind glass. The light shrinks, and with it comes a feeling of something else retreating, too — something that you may have understood was there without realizing it, or that you may have assumed was simply another aspect of the light itself.
The bubble of safety, you realize, is receding. And when The Lantern's Light finally goes out, so too does the shield keeping you separated from the wraiths prowling the tunnels.
The darkness closes in. The Cavern's glowing plants are now the only steady source of light in the entire chamber, which allows your eyes to adjust, but only so much; it becomes difficult to make out the faces of even those standing right beside you.
It's time, so says The Ferryman. Make your decision.
follow the leader
There is no pomp or ceremony associated with The Ferryman's toll collection. You need only to be willing, and ready.
The darkness seems to shroud The Ferryman more than it does the rest of you, somehow. You can't make out the features of their face, only hear their voice bidding you to step forward when you're ready. For any of you who might need a moment, The Ferryman will wait.
A mote of light appears in The Ferryman's palms as the toll is paid, growing in proportion to the number of memories it receives. It's small, but you can feel the influence of it: that protective bubble you felt recede when The Lantern extinguished grows again around the light, just enough to envelop the group gathered here.
Time to go, says The Ferryman. And even though you can't track their movements in the darkness, the light tracks it for you: over the lip of the land bridge, and down to the black River below.
Nowhere to go but forward. When you step off yourself (even if it takes a bit of psyching up to get there), you'll find that the drop is gentle, and that your steps suspend safely over the water.
Just don't get left behind.
— HEAR A VOICE THAT CAUSES YOU PAIN
And so, you journey.
You walk on the surface of The River as if it were a wide, black road. Ahead of you, that same mote of light follows in the steps of The Ferryman, illuminating the ripples they leave in the water as breadcrumbs for you to follow. The air above The River is cold, certainly, and sometimes the icy water might splash up onto your shoes or ankles — but The River is wide, and there's room enough to walk together, even if you can't see each other well. It's as comfortable as a journey like this might ever be.
But The Crossing is a trial. You didn't forget, did you?
It starts slow: sounds from the darkness that could be voices, unless it's been dark for so long that your ears are playing tricks on you? Shouts of anger, high-pitched laughter, cries of fury and despair.
Then there are words. They beckon to you from the darkness: some plaintive, some punitive. They want you to stop. They want you to stay. They want you gone. Most of the voices are unfamiliar to you, but at least one, you know very well.
You need to keep moving. If you lose sight of The Ferryman's steps, you run the risk of being lost in the Cavern forever. Or perhaps it's someone beside you who's on the edge of losing their focus, someone who needs you to help keep them on the path?
trust your gut
The rest of you, left behind on the banks of The River, have only your wits, the contents of your pockets, and the pull of something beyond the darkness to help you on the journey. The darkness is smothering, but not completely impenetrable: you have the glow of the Cavern plants, the faint gleam of the toll group’s steps on the surface of The River, and anything you may have picked up before you got here.
You can travel together or alone, but you must move. The metaphysical pull on you is growing stronger and more insistent the longer you stay in one place, and the Cavern, before preternaturally silent and still, is beginning to stir.
The wraiths, once silent, shapeless, harmless shadows following you about the Cavern, have changed. Where before they were merely unsettling to look at, now they have become larger and more monstrous: sharp eyes and claws, wide eyes and mouths. Where before they were silent, seemingly both unable and unwilling to make any sound, now they wail: wordless cries of pain and anger giving away their positions in the darkness.
Some of them may even be familiar to you, once they get close enough; the wraiths that before had seemingly taken a liking to you, seeking you out and following you wherever you went, now seem dedicated to hunting you specifically.
What the wraiths want from you, it's hard to say. If they catch you, they will tear at you without strategy or direction, like a ravenous animal — or perhaps a terrified one.
Any injuries you sustain during this time, whether from the wraiths or otherwise, are just as real to you as they would have been when you were alive: you bleed, you break, and you feel every inch of the pain inflicted on you.
Nowhere to go but forward. If you follow the pull in your gut, you'll get to where you're going. One way or another.
on the other side
Whichever trial you've chosen, there is, eventually, the end.
You feel it first in the atmosphere: a resettling of the off-kilterness that's been surrounding you. The air slowly becomes drier, and the darkness less punishing. The plants that line the walls of the Cavern become more and more rare, their light replaced by ambient light leaking in from somewhere above you.
For the group traveling with The Ferryman, the wide expanse of The River gradually becomes shallower and narrower, until it's hardly a trickle beneath your feet, winding through the cave system. For the group traveling on their own, there comes a point where the wraiths seem unwilling or unable to follow, their shrieks in the darkness growing further and further away.
You feel it next in yourself: a smoothing of your rough edges, aches and muscle pain and physical exhaustion melting away. For any injured on the journey, your wounds resolve themselves as if natural healing on fast-forward. Natural healing is not always the cleanest or the most comfortable, though; you might be left with scars, crooked fingers or noses, or some other lasting memory of what you risked to be here.
Lastly, once The River has narrowed enough and two groups have reunited again: The Lantern relights. The Ferryman, for all that they were nearly invisible to you in the darkness, seems just the same as they were before. You made it through, they tell you, with no small amount of warmth and pride. Let's take a load off.
You should rest. If you took anything from the Cavern to help you on your journey, you'll find that it's gone from your pockets — when did that happen? Did you set it down? It's been such a long journey, it could have been a lapse of memory.
A memory? Ah, there's something else gone too, isn't there? Willingly or otherwise. If you try to reach for it now, it's like dust in the breeze, or a dream upon waking. You know it was there once, but the harder you try to recall it back, the thinner the details get. Eventually, you might not remember even that there was something to forget.
Congratulations. The Crossing is complete.
Image credits: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 + stock imagery unless otherwise noted
no subject
Nothing.
Was it safe? The small bit of silence, the other’s own hollow words reach his ears. Her suggestion to find his sister has him pausing again… then he nods. No matter how reluctant he felt about Mari right now… they had to keep moving forward. Finding Mari meant they found the rest of the group.
Ironic, wasn’t it, that he was now chasing after his sister, in a way. He was so used to her just being there in Headspace…Life was difficult and, often, there was no right choice; Sunny knew this. Certainly there were wrong turns and what-ifs, but ultimately there was only constant - choosing the path that one believed was correct. What would cause them less pain.
He let out a small breath of relief as they turned towards safety - back towards the Light.]
no subject
Of course, with the loud voice of her adversary having fallen silent after the lightning strike, others may now be heard by them... including the one speaking from the memory Sunny entrusted to the Ferryman, if he hasn't already faced it.]
no subject
The hollowness. The rage. The loss.
Things he both could and didn’t understand, but had to weather regardless because… it was his fault.
There was simply no other rationale.
Still, as his father’s voice continued to berate him, to switch as suddenly from that rage to an emptiness, the echo of an axe hitting wood rang out.
Sunny flinched, curling into himself.]
no subject
Sunny! Oh Sunny...
[She supports him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his hair, realising that the angry shouting she barely paid attention to must have been making him suffer. Did he try to just bear it and focus on getting them both back to the light?]
That man just now, was he talking to you? Why is he so angry?
[She simply can't imagine it being anything Sunny did on purpose or out of malice, so she wants to console him.]
no subject
That settled him, if only just. He stayed bent over, hands cupping his ears, as if that could help blunt the edge of the voice’s anger.
”You are not my son.”
Those words echoed again, and Sunny’s stomach cramped. It had been so much easier to ignore, to brush aside, when the memory had resurfaced in his dreams. When he was Omori, he was strong, uncaring, unable to be felled by anything. Here, he was just himself. Weak.
Another swing of the axe, accompanied by the splintering of wood.
”Why won’t you fall?!”
The voice, on the edge of despair now, as the axe continued its fruitless path. At least it was confirmation enough that the axe wasn’t turned on Sunny himself. Still, he could only bear witness to an accordion page of that memory in his mind, flipping back and forth, back and forth.]
My… fault…
[The admission managed to squeeze its way out of his lips, pressed tight in fear, like a gasp of breath breaking forth. It was his fault his father was angry, his fault that his father had left, his fault that their family was fractured…
But four years of keeping that secret buried inside of him so tightly that his own mind had glossed it over. It would take more than the voice to set it free.]
no subject
What is your fault?
[She's asking him to make a confession, and she knows how hard that is, but she simply can't believe that whatever he's hiding is unforgivable. What in the world could make a father turn against his child like this? Her own father always loved her, even after she inherited the Founding Titan. He was the first to come running when her titan form evaporated around her after her succession ceremony, taking her in his arms as she opened her eyes to all the horrible new knowledge in her head. For Sunny's father to reject him whole-heartedly, to not love him anymore... what happened?]
It’s going to take so much to get him to admit why, because OMORI Spoilers and trauma T.T
The same two phrases repeat over and over - accusations in one heartbeat and desperation in another. It makes Sunny want to puke
If only Frieda knew… a parent could lose their love for a child. It was his fault, his alone, and yet it had been an accident all the same-
Sunny shakes his head frantically, leaning into Frieda’s embrace, stoking the guilt inside of him further. He should be punished, he should have it worse than this, the voice was right, it was always right. The Truth bubbles up in his chest, but he shoves it back down. Four years of bottling it, hiding in his room, forgetting his own memories through delusional daydreaming…
What might have been a sob was strangled by the shuddering wheeze that left his throat. Sunny might have agreed to part with the memory, to give it up to light their path, willingly, and yet… he couldn’t face it.]
Take the time you need, Sunny! ♡ There are many more Crossings ahead...
Sunny, you... you have to face it! That's what the Ferryman said!
[Otherwise, how will he make it through the Crossing? Will he even be able to resume walking like this? A she continues to hold and encourage (not pressure, she hopes) the boy, she determines that if he can't get a hold of himself, she'll have to carry or drag him back to the others. Regardless of how dismal she herself feels, she can't let Mari lose her brother.]
She’s so gentle with him T.T <3
And yet… Sunny could be stubborn when he wanted to be. Mostly for the wrong reasons. When Frieda insisted on his facing the memory, no matter how gently or well-meaning, he continued to shake his head.
The voice angrily echoed Frieda’s sentiment, the axe swings growing stronger.
Face it! FACE WHAT YOU’VE DONE!]
She tries! ♡
Run with me!
[Despite Frieda being tall for a girl and Sunny small for a boy, she thinks she won't be able to carry him without toppling, so supporting him it is! If he can't will himself to start moving, she'll sling one of his arms over her shoulder, as if he were a wounded soldier, and pull him along with her that way.]
We have to catch up with the Ferryman! I'm sorry, this is my fault..!
[After all, he came after her - otherwise, he wouldn't have ended up so waylaid.]
no subject
He really did. Her supporting him helped but, even for as small as he might be, he didn’t weigh much.
The other problem he had clearly became apparent: Sunny wasn’t in much of a physical shape to do any sort of exercise, much less run away from the darkness encroaching behind them. His breaths became labored and his limbs shaky as he tried to keep up.
And then… Frieda was apologizing? Why? Sunny had chosen to follow… it wasn’t her fault. His mouth opened to tell her that, but he didn’t have the breath left. Shaking his head, trying to tell her otherwise, it she probably couldn’t see him…]
no subject
It's okay - running on water is hard, isn't it? Let's just walk as fast as we can.
[It's easier said than done, all the less with Sunny's father still raging. With her nerves as frayed as they are, she turns around herself, trying to locate the direction the voice and axe sounds are coming from, but to no avail. Regardless, she yells out at the darkness.]
Leave him alone!! Whatever he did, he can't do anything about it anymore!
no subject
Breathing, like every other biological function, wasn’t necessarily needed here, but old habits died hard. Or maybe lived hard, in the sense they were already dead.Her suggestion to walk was certainly easier on his body, but Sunny’s own instincts were screaming at him to run. Not because his father would hurt him if he caught up - if he could, though he had never been physically punishing - but simply that base instinct to get away from the anger.
Frieda shouted back, Sunny realized then, his eyes widening. If only she knew… but he couldn’t tell her. There was no way for him to atone, no way except to continue to live with guilt and denial until… well, the plan had been until death, but now he wasn’t sure.]
I-I… [He still couldn’t speak well, trembling and exertion stealing his voice. Tugging on her sleeve, almost frantically, towards the light. They had to get away. The Ferryman said they would protect them. Maybe they could protect against his father too.]
no subject
Right. Get on my back, Sunny.
[She crouches to take him piggyback. If only she still had her titan power now... in that huge monstrous body, she could effortlessy carry him in her hand and catch up with the group in no time! But in this afterlife, she has to make do as a mere human.]
no subject
There was the briefest moment of hesitance on the teen’s part… then Sunny somehow was able to position himself on her back, limbs shaky but hanging on.
Desperately attempting to forget the numerous times his sister had offered him a piggyback before…]
[As if incensed by Frieda’s actions, the voice seemed to focus on the both of them]
YOU’RE RUNNING AWAY?! YOU CAN’T! YOU CAN’T RUN FROM WHAT YOU DID!!
no subject
Progress is slow - she can hardly run, struggling to keep her balance on the water -, but they at least don't fall farther behind as they lag after the rest of the group.
Sunny's father, though, does get to her. She tries to ignore him at first, but his words worm their way into her brain. Isn't it true? No one can eternally run from their sins. Eventually, they'll always catch up, like her people's sins caught up with them, like her ancestor's flight into exile caught up with her.]
Sunny... are you sure you can't face it? I faced my memory, even though... even though I've done such terrible things.
no subject
His father’s voice chased them both. Formless yet charging the air with tension, words truer than ever. He couldn’t escape, as much as he had tried for the past four years.
Frieda brings up facing the memory again, and the idea churns his stomach. He shakes his head quickly.]
N-no… no… [His whispered denial, choked out, might even be too small for her to hear over all the noise.]
no subject
It's alright.
[Is it really, though? He's refusing to face what he's done - whatever it is! The Ferryman said that they had to. What will happen if they don't? Will they fail to 'cross'? What if he turns into a wraith on her back? What if they both turn into wraiths?
Part of her feels so dreadful at those thoughts, she wants to throw Sunny off her back and save herself (well, as far as she still can be saved). But then, she thinks of Mari again. How could she face her? What's more, it'd be a betrayal of Sunny as well. It's not his fault that she didn't listen when he tried to retrieve her to the group. So she struggles on.]
The brain image of Frieda yeeting Sunny off her back has me ROFL XD
It would be his fault, as always… but as scary as thought as that was, the idea of someone learning the Truth about him was even more terrifying.
No, no he couldn’t do that.
He clung tighter, some part of him absently hoping he wasn’t hurting Frieda in the process. She was too kind, much too kind, carrying his literal dead weight on her back.
The axe swings were getting louder, drowning out whatever else his father’s voice was saying.]
It makes me craugh too!
Trying to run faster, she loses her balance and falls, losing her hold on Sunny. Landing on the water it terrifying - for a moment, she's sure she can feel her fingertips dip underneath the surface. Or was that just her imagination? Either way, the axe chops come in such fast succession now that they're near-continuous.]
Sunny, please--!
no subject
[Sunny lets out a near imperceptible noise of panic as he hits the water, expecting it to drag him under. It doesn’t, but he still curls up back into a ball, hands over his ears and eyes shut tight.
Frieda is pleading with him - pleading - and he doesn’t know how to make it stop, can’t admit the Truth, because then she would hate him, they all would-]
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-
[The same repeated apologies falls from his lips. To Frieda, to Mari, to people who thought him a friend, to his father…
Suddenly, there is one final swing of the axe, then a giant CRACK! The water beneath them shudders, like something large and heavy hitting the ground, but it doesn’t give way. Then…
Silence.
Sunny stays curled up in a ball, trying to ignore the wet sensation of the River he’s crouched on. Waiting for another angry retort or for the axe to come for him this time.
Would it be easier, then? To feel that pain and then nothing at all?It doesn’t come. The voice has gone, though whether it has been appeased or the memory has simply run its course is something Sunny doesn’t have the answer to.
no subject
..!
[When that doesn't happen and the ensuing silence last for several moments, she cautiously opens her eyes again. Was it enough..?]
Sunny? Sunny...
[She knows she needs to go check on him, but she feels unable to get up until she's at least sure that he's still with her - still "alive", still human, not already a wraith.]
no subject
He’s still shaking. He’s maybe even attempting to not cry, unshed tears in his one visible eye, the other securely wrapped by the remnant of Kel’s shirt.
At least it was silent. But he can’t move - can’t bring his legs to stand.]
no subject
Sunny, get back on. I think I can make it, now.
[After all, she just has to walk, right? She just has to follow the light. Hopefully, Sunny's father won't return, so the dread and fear in both their hearts can calm down. She knows that the sorrow over what happened in the lead-up to her death will fill that space, then, but hopefully, she'll be able to carry on through that feeling.]
no subject
Climb back on…
He truly didn’t deserve this. Was it weakness for Sunny to get through this with another’s help? Everyone else - Frieda included - seemed to be doing just fine in facing their memories.
Sunny couldn’t. Not by himself. Maybe the Ferryman might still be kind, still let him continue on like this. They had mentioned that others would help him… even if he didn’t deserve it.
Nodding, though the action was barely perceptible in the dark, Sunny reached for Frieda. Ready to be carried. Ready to continue.]
(no subject)