Unwilling to grace the network with the ~miracle~ of seahorse birth, Mark has spent the final few hours of the event hiding in his closet. Now his wall camera is making up for lost time.
It catches him sitting on his bed, elbows resting on his knees, nursing a mug of coffee. He still looks a little pale, but from the relaxed way he holds himself,
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The short version--I don't know.
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Is it that obvious they're mine?
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You were a male seahorse, and you had that pouch. I don't know how else you would come across so many small one's, and why you'd decide to keep them.
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I didn't want them to die when everything dried up.
Even if they were a mansion joke.
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This really is bizarre.
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You know all that research I did? There could have been thousands of them. And they weren't this small during the event.
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How many were there?
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They sort of...came with the package.
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Well, I'm glad you came out of this event fine. The last few have been pretty relaxed, thankfully.
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He's always going to use the asylum as a measuring stick, himself. That took a lot out of him.
What's the worst you've seen, if you don't mind my asking?
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During one, everyone was seeing "undead" versions of people at home. The ghouls were attacking people, and when someone was killed by one, they became one themselves.
I was killed during it
There were other horrible one's as well.
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I'm glad I wasn't here, then.
Has anyone ever tried keeping records of them?
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