the final week

[airlockedmods]

[Eight weeks. Eight weeks of friendship and love, death and loss, hope and despair all muddled together in a cocktail that's too sweet on the tongue and leaves an acid-y pit in the stomach. With nine of them left (ten counting their dear but lone surviving host), things look darker than ever. Come Sunday morning the last of the Champions missing memories will be returned to them while they sleep. For some of them this will reveal answers, for others it might just be a fate worse than death. They could even be death.

But how does the song go? "It's always darkest before the dawn"?

There are no announcements from PAL this week. Not even morning and evening announcements.

Sunday Monday Tuesday



[ooc: Welcome to endgame, everyone! We're all very proud of you for making it all the way to the end. As you can see this is going to be a short IC week but we promise things will not be going down until this weekend (7/7-7/9). On Tuesday we'll be unveiling the OOC post for what to expect during the final investigation. There is no official AC this week, just a check-in and as mentioned above characters will be at their true canon points on Sunday morning.

Buckle up, kids, the ride's not over yet.]

Comments

[goteachother]

[And there's a sheet of paper being shoved in her hands.

And another...

And another.]

[desperateprayer]

[ THAT LAST ONE... Is the one that catches her eye the most. ]

Th-These are all so beautiful, Queenie. Really...?

[goteachother]

[She plucks the last one out of the pile and waves her wand over it. The curls of embroidery shift from grey pencil to a deep, rich purple wine color, a few shades more red than Arianna's hair.]

Contrast... or something softer? [Another wave and they fade to a pale blush pink.]

[desperateprayer]

...I like the darker.

[ ...Dark purple is actually one of her favorite colors. ]

[goteachother]

Alright honey.... stand still~

[She draws her wand, takes a breath so she can focus, concentrate. It's not as effortlessly smooth as when she changed her own clothing. That was a dress she had created in her mind dozens of times before. This was new and going on someone else.

A swirl and white satin spilled from wand tip, sweeping over to Clarith, curling itself around her, her other clothes slithering out of the way obediently. Lace and chiffon joined the satin, an over lay, delicate fringe around the bust. A burst of color, deep like the violet of garnet cinching at her waist, a curl of a flower at the side, delicate strands tracing up from the hem in fine, elegant swirls.

More white satin to encase her arms, up past the elbows, ruby violet edging the top of the gloves, stitching a seamless pattern around her wrists.

Finally Queenie slumped down to sit on the edge of the bed, shaking out her hands as though she'd done all of that sewing by hand and laughing a shaky laugh.]

Oh gosh, I'm outta practice.

You want some matching ribbons fer the bouquet? Your hair? Cece whaddya think?