Welcome to Gaia! ::

He brought the fragment back happy to give the little fragment back to the goddess. "Here, I brought you this one." he watched as she studied it. and then scrambled.... a bit ungraceful for a goddess, back onto the podium.

Suddenly he was in a chair.... the room was cold and he didn't like it. There was a sense of distance... and then he realized this was a memory of some kind.

Write a letter... in case he didn't come back. He took the pen and stared at the paper a long time before finally starting in large childish handwriting.





They weren't for him, he stared at the paper in confusion, hand limp as she took it away. What exactly was she doing with it? Was this for her? He wrote a letter to someone, but he didn't know who. Maybe it was to the goddess?

But somehow her words comforted him... he would not be forgotten....

Thean entered the shrine to give her light to her Goddess. However the Goddess of Ruin was lounging on her pedestal. The Goddess calls out and Thean walks over. She asks if she has a fragment and offers to show her something in return for it. Thean reluctantly hands over the shard. She can't really say no.....

The Goddess stands up and her scythe materializes. The shrine seems to go dark.....

"Are you entirely sure about this? Once you go, there is a chance you may not come back."

Thean finds herself sitting in a cold room. She agrees to something before she can even realize what she agreed to.

"Very well. Take a moment to write a letter to those you care for. There is a chance you might not come back."

She receives the pen and paper, and begins to write.



The pen shook when she finished as tears dropped down.

The Goddess took the pen and paper. When had she gotten there? She said not to worry, she didn't have to think about it anymore.

Think about what? Thean sat confused as she tried to remember what she was doing. She had been writing, but to who? When? Where? Thean felt awfully empty and unfulfilled as she accepted a blessing.

Finding the fragment was easy, so returning it to the Goddess was easy too. Annabell smiled up at her as she offered it over, watching curiously as it was turned in the woman's hand a few times. The scene shifts slowly until the girl is seated, confused but wholly concentrated on the figure before her. They speak and confusion turns into mild worry. Might not come back? Oh, surely she'd heard that before. It had always worked out just fine, more or less... But the figure seems not to be so sure. Paper and pen is given, a few more sheets requested by the girl before she takes a deep breath.
This will only take a moment.







As she finishes the last scratch of her name, the paper is taken away. The pen is pried from her grasp. Everything fades and Annabell looks up at the Goddess. Something hurts deep in her heart and she cannot breath.
Her letters are taken away, she cannot even spy one word on them. But she knows they are precious and as she moves away, a hand touches her chest and presses against it. That does not dull the ache, the need to find the people she wrote her letters to. But she cannot remember them, so she cannot find them.
A tear rolls down her cheek as she leaves, regretful of something she does not recall.

The fragment had been incredibly easy to find. It seemed that they were floating about everywhere in the World's End, just waiting to be captured by someone who needed them, for whatever reason that may be. In this case, it was to hand over to the Goddess of Ruin, bowing her head as she did so. The fragment disappeared as the Goddess turned away from her, and slowly, the world around her seemed to disappear as well.

And then she was alone, sitting at a table. Where was she? This wasn't her. How did she end up here? Just a moment ago, she was standing up proud, but now she found herself sitting in a chair, staring forward at someone she did not recognize.

The room was cold, and the chair was hard.

She didn't really want to be here.

That extreme feeling of dislike of the bone-chilling rooms she had been dealing with lately slowly melted away, turning into a feeling of realization as the person across the table talked to ...her.

May not come back? What was she agreeing to? ... What had she agreed to?

The person expected her to write a letter of the final words she would say, if she was given a chance. There were not many Nkosazana considered herself close to, but she needed to get her words out to those she considered to be important, and so, her hand picked up the pen in front of her, committing words to paper she had not yet said aloud.



When the woman in front of her--it is a woman--wavers, the death priestess found herself rather surprised, melting away as she listens to the words. These words are not for her? But she would ... never be forgotten.

Yes, that was what she needed to hear.

As her name and her identity melted away once again, leaving Zanna Kosa as the shadow she was, she remembered not what she wrote, nor whom, exactly, she wrote it to, but she knew it was written to someone important, and she had left them the important words they needed to hear.

What Zanna did not understand was why she felt like crying as she left the room.

Returning to where Ruin laid waiting, Wyng calmly handed her the fragment. Ruin then took it and stood back up on her podium, returning to her original position with her scythe. As she did so, Wyng noted that the room seemed to grow darker and darker. Then, suddenly, she was seated in a cold room on a hard chair.

Across from her, there was a shadow sitting with their elbows on the desk. "Are you entirely sure about this? Once you go, there is a chance you may not come back." it asked. Wyng wondered what it was talking about even as her form moved, but not by her will. It was almost as if she was living someone else's memories or rather, memories of who she used to be. As that thought passes through her head, it clicks, these were indeed her memories! Even, as she realized that this was her, she heard herself agree to something, that she did not remember.

The figure sighed and pushed a blank piece of paper towards her along with a pen. "Very well. Take a moment to write a letter to those you care for. There is a chance you might not come back." Might not come back? Might not come back from what? Wyng wondered. The figure then tilted its head to one side and said "Did you think I was joking? This is serious. Write your good-byes, the things you never said. If you don't make it... I'll make sure that your words are received." Confused, Wyng watched as her hand wrote something out.


Gywn, was that my name, Wyng wondered as she signed the letter. As soon as she finished signing, the shadowy figure before her began to waver. Bright spots of color emerged, defining them. It was Ruin. She reached forward and took the paper. "These words aren't for you." she whispered, "You don't need to think about them. Not again. Do not let them worry you, you will not be forgotten." The Goddess then reached out and plucked the pen from Wyng's unresisting grip, taking the memory of her words and the memory of her mother away with it. Then,Ruin folded the paper and tucked it away. She did, however, leave Wyng with the memory that she had written something to someone.

Completely confused, Wyng just wondered, what did I just forget? Was the memory so important to the goddess that she needed to take it?

He's not reluctant to write a letter; irritated is probably a better word for it, though not irritated at what he has to offer to the goddess, but instead irritation at himself for not knowing what it is that he needs to do. He sits at the table and stares at the paper in front of him, a look of hard concentration and reluctance on his face.

Finally he picks up the pen.




On the back of the paper there is a second letter, seemingly hastily written:

A scowl lit her face, brow lifting. Letters were easy to write. It was just getting her thoughts to paper that... she always seemed to sputter on. Ink dripped, waiting to be placed to paper. The pen dripped. It was the pen... right? It was in her hand, it had to be the pen...

Without a word, she took the paper and hunched over slightly, biting her tongue as she fought for the words she knew she could say... If only they were right here in front of her. Alas... life was never that easy, was it? A bitter smile came to her as she set the ink bleeding tip to the paper.




Reading over her words once, groaning at how they would never properly convey anything, she turned over the page and began writing again.

Igny didn't understand, as per usual with the goddesses. A letter? Farewell? She might not ... exist?

Hestitation hung in the air as she waved over the paper. All she got was a letter? She had so many people to write to- Palem, Finale, ReDawn-

Words seized her, ones she didn't know, to people she didn't know. It was as though she wasn't herself. No, she was still Igny, yet ... also someone else.





She thought for a moment. Perhaps there was another letter she could write. She looked to the goddess with a questioning look. Ruin responded with a nod.





Igny felt the paper give way. There were words written, but they were ones she didn't remember writing. They were to people she didn't know. She felt tears trickling down her face, but she didn't know why.

She looked to ruin. The letter was taken, the memories gone.

In their place was a blessing.