[He's deep in the forest, practically talking to himself. The book is nearby but he hasn't noticed it juuust yet.]Ohohohoooo no. No, no, no, no. Not this again
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Anne Shirley! I--ah--believe that I am probably speaking to you from a book. Well, I know I am talking to my book and so I assume that you are listening from yours. I have been told that that is how it works, here.
[Since Grell hangs out in the forest so much, despite Moro being all over the place, have a death god finding your little problem so very, very cute. Cute enough to give a girlish laugh of amusement, even. He is such a jackass.]
I'm afraid you shan't be waking up anytime soon, dearest. None of us shall.
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Wait.
Who... said ... that?
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So if I am talking through a book, then where is it exactly?
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[Thinking that over a moment. Geez, did he have to say it like that? You've gone and scared him.] Maker's breath, I'm not- [Ermgh.] dead, am I?
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And... who are you?
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But if this is the Fade, how is it exactly that you don't know of the spirits? I'd assume you would have met one of them by now.
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Have you tried pinching yourself yet?
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[...]
Nope, still here it seems. And it's starting to get rather cold...
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[Taking a moment to look around him.]
Trees.
Oh. No. Wait. I believe I hear some water. Yes, there's definitely moving water.
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I'm afraid you shan't be waking up anytime soon, dearest. None of us shall.
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Who are you?
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[He drops out of the tree he was in and tosses his hair and the end of his scarf over his shoulder.]
And aren't you a pretty one. Grell Sutcliffe, by the by. It's a pleasure to meet you.
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Right. Um. Thanks...? Yes, uh. It's nice to meet you too, I'm ... going. Actually. Now. Right now.
[Picks a direction and just goes.]
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