*I have CANDY children. You know you want it.*

[artist_of_anger]

[At first, the noise is but a faint humming from the western woods. For each passing moment the humming grows and grows until it is a loud rumbling, like a mudslide or avalanche it draws nearer and nearer with no indications of slowing down. And then they burst forward: A vast procession of mining carts careening towards Boys Cabin One until they

Comments

[fingeroflife]

*Jak's coming back to camp in spectacular fashion. must be Tuesday. Personal raincloud, get?*

[fingeroflife]

No. That would be EVERY DAY; thank you, Father.

[artist_of_anger]

How are they the 'old folk'? I only knew my daddy for a year or so AND he treid to have me killed when we first met and he is STILL a better father than Montechristien. Lame for you, dude.

[fingeroflife]

They were shaped first, before humanity.

[artist_of_anger]

Do they call themselves The Old People too?

[fingeroflife]

The elder folk; I suppose it is effectively the same, accounting for linguistic change.

[worthtempting]

[Monday, actually, brother dear]

[fingeroflife]

*yes, well*

This is one of his less harmful returns, I suppose.

[worthtempting]

There doesn't appear to be anything untoward attempting to digest his internal organs, so that's an improvement. On the other hand, I could have used those sinuses.

[fingeroflife]

Personally, I would rather a sinus-destroying stench than organ digestion, even as a bystander. The former is far easier to remedy.

[worthtempting]

That's true. Less required effort is always better.

Your spirits seem greatly improved, brother.

[fingeroflife]

True.

...mm, perhaps so.

[worthtempting]

[taking yr hand between both of hers and squeezing]

That makes good hearing.

[fingeroflife]

*squeezing back*

I am glad of it.

[worthtempting]

Mmm. We were due a bit of good fortune.

I suppose this is to make up for the lack of sweets yesterday.

[fingeroflife]

We were.

Mm, true. I understand he was summoned to a pocket world made entirely of sweets.