"Three separate ER nurses have either rolled their eyes at me or called me 'lame' for dropping a hatchet on my own head. Everyone's a critic."
Have six silent films for a dark and story night, as well, and an amazing treasure trove of very early French animation. Such a phenomenal accomplishment.
But, none of those are why I'm posting this. This is...considerably less amusing. Because all things change, all things end, all things pass. It's the nature of life.
And some dreams die.
I may still attend dances at that lovely little club, and I did forget the little beach nook pillows I'd put out, so I'll have to return for those, and I will miss Jeffery's superb house red. But...dishonor is the order of the day, and sometimes, we simply must accept that other people do not hold personal honor in the same regard that we do.
The dinner party was fun, though. More formal than I expected, but fun. A friend and acolyte in the Companions' Guild was celebrating 90 days on the grid. We take moments of joy where we can, and that is one I'll cherish.
But the Sphinx-Templar Syndicate has closed up operations. The office stands empty, our ships have been ordered to redirect elsewhere. The great mystery of the mysterious island may have to be unsolved. More's the pity.
There are other ports of call. We will find them. This harms us not in the least...something that certain people truly should consider, but sadly, I don't think they will. Maybe they'll grow out of it, maybe not, but either way, it's nothing to do with us anymore.
We're off to find new adventures, and we'll see what happens then.
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