Bertha's Lament

Since when does Bertha do therapy?!

I was watching Lauren's episode, and I don't know why, but Bertha has started doing therapy???

How long has that been happening? Has anyone tried getting therapy from Bertha?

I NEED TO KNOW

Curse of Victory

Scott sat in his house, perched on his bed, with a book in his lap and a pencil in his hands. He turned to a blank page, then gazed pensively out his window and at the view.

He tapped his pencil against the corner of his lip.

In the past, he'd written about his allies and the chaos of the server. He'd documented the advancements made to the base. He recorded silly, useless details that had potential to become useful in the future.

Mostly though, he tried articulating his memories.

Other players - specifically the ones who hadn't been cursed blessed with victory - had poor recollection of past games. The memories were still there, they would still reappear from time to time, but mostly they lurked in the dark recesses of their minds until called upon. Those memories were old. They had no purpose to them other than to have them keep playing; the reward for victory, after all, was to remember.

Grian remembered everything. Scott knew that he remembered throwing himself off a cliff, cheating on Scar, his slow yet steady loss of his fellow Bad Boys until he had been left alone.

Pearl remembered everything, too. She knew about the trio he, her and Cleo had been in the past; how she had been abandoned by her soulmate yet still came out on top, and Scott took his life so she wouldn't have to suffer in that world longer; how she had at first been in a duo in the Nosy Neighbours, which soon became a trio.

Martyn remembered. He had been the Red King's Hand, his loyal soldier and servant who'd had the burden honour of taking his king's life. He, too, was left by his soulmate and had spent weeks trying to undo his wrongs and get back in her good books. He had been Scott's only ally in the last life game, loyal and devoted, and had taken the mantle of victor.

Scott knew what they remembered, because they had told him. In the cold, empty Void, awaiting the next game as they sat alone with no company but each other, they didn't have much else to do except share what they remembered.

He remembered flower fields with Jimmy, a poppy tucked behind his ear and a wedding ring of twine around his finger. He remembered his allyship with Pearl and Cleo, which split into a duo in the life game afterwards. He remembered the fish tail that had swished behind him and still half-expected it to be there at night.

Most of all, they all remembered the pain.

Scott had tried articulating his thoughts, writing them on paper to go over later. It didn't work, predictably. But the sentiment had been there.

Martyn and Jimmy were Red Lives now.

It was an odd thought. Jimmy had never had the best luck in the games, always being the first one to be eliminated from the game. He had been a terrible ally - always so accident-prone and clumsy - but he'd also been joyful and kind. He had been as vibrant as the colour of his canary wings, and burned as bright as the sun.

It seemed sensible that Jimmy would go down so quickly.

Martyn, on the other hand...

Martyn was vicious. He was ruthless and cunning and quick. In the heat of battle, his sword always struck true. He was a fighter, from birth to death. He did not die easily.

But, like all of them, he was mortal. And he was human. He was subject to such things as mortality.

Scott scribbled this down as best he could. His handwriting, normally pristine and fancy, was erratic and scruffy. The others would probably think someone else wrote this, but the winners would know.

They always did.

He set down his pencil and lay down, staring up at the ceiling.

His bed felt cold.

He sat up again and rose to his feet. He shuffled to his door, opened it, stepped outside into the cool night air and began to walk. Where, he couldn't say. His feet were carrying him in whichever direction they saw fit.

Scott left behind the plateau on the mountain and approached the open field at Spawn.

He spotted Martyn standing there awkwardly, yawning and dragging his feet along the ground.

"Martyn? What are you doing up this late?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Martyn replied. His eyes glimmered red, sparkling rubies or flowing blood. Either way, they were beautiful. "Besides, a little Green Life out here, with no protection, and with a Red Life no less."

"You wouldn't try anything."

"Wouldn't I?"

"No." He spoke with conviction. He slowly drew nearer to the Red Life and paused a few centimetres from him. Scott cupped Martyn's cheek, and the Red Life leaned into the touch ever so slightly. There was hesitation in his eyes.

Martyn sighed, taking a step back. "I want this to end."

"You want to go back to the Void that much?"

"No? Yes? I don't know! It's... it's frustrating." He folded his arms and stared at the floor. "I just want things to be clear again. I want to talk to you without feeling the urge to rip your arms off. Hell, I want to talk to people in general!"

Scott grabbed Martyn gently by the arm. Without a word, they both travelled up to Pearl's base. He knocked on the door and was met with the image of Pearl - bushy hair, bags under her eyes - grumbling to herself.

"What?"

Scott, with Martyn in tow, pushed past and into the room. "Wait here," he commanded. "I'll be back soon."

He quickly ran up to the plateau, silently sneaking into his house and taking the bed. He legged it all the way back, using the diving board for assistance. He placed it down up against a free spot on the wall.

Pulling the covers back, he hopped in and patted the space next to him. Martyn nervously crawled in.

Pearl watched them awkwardly. Then she sent out a message via her comm.

"We're having a winners' sleepover." she stated.

Scott nodded.

Grian appeared a few minutes later, with two other beds. He placed them near to Scott's and the other two victors got under the covers.

"To victory, and shitty memories." Scott said, and the others repeated it.

Scott and Martyn tangled in each other's limbs with a small smile on their faces. It felt good, to be like this again. He'd missed it.

As slumber overcame him, Scott had one final thought.

He was home.

Secret Santa

This was really fun to write, and was also my first time doing something like this, so for my first ever thing like this, I'm pretty happy with it. I hope my person likes this a lot :)

@writeblrcafe hosted the event

This is my gift for @kittrrrr - hope you enjoy!

A Recurring Face

Word count: 979

At first his name had been Kestrel. He’d liked it; for what reason, he couldn’t quite say, but when he first heard the word he knew he loved it. Later on, he found out that a Kestrel was a bird, but he didn’t mind it too much. They were lovely birds.

Over time that name had to change. It was only natural. As humans developed, so did their languages and the names they went by. His name would be seen as unusual or strange, and thus it had to change to something else. In his heart, though, he was always Kestrel. No matter what name he took, he was always just Kestrel.

Humans had nice literature, Kestrel decided.

They were amazing; artfully woven words into strings of sentences. Each word was carefully selected to have an intended effect. They could make him laugh or - on rare, memorable occasions - make him cry.

Some of his favourites belonged to the Greeks.

Kestrel walked through the town, his eyes wandering across the shops and men walking around him. The sun was high in the sky, its golden rays beating down on him pleasantly, if a little too hard at some points in the day. There were no clouds that would drift by. The fact made him frown a little, but he recovered soon afterwards when his attention was captured by a man arguing with a vendor.

The man was not dressed like the other men and women roving around. He wore a white button-up shirt underneath a leather waistcoat, accompanied by pinstripe grey slacks and shiny shoes. His hair was a ruddy red and his eyes bright green, like moss in a forest. The man was trying to bring down the price of an urn, to which the vendor was trying to maintain his composure whilst explaining to the man that “This urn is incredibly valuable, it cannot be sold for such a price.”

Smiling, he approached the two men slowly. His arrival caught the attention of the vendor.

“I can pay for it,” he said. Kestrel took out some drachma and handed them to the vendor, taking a glance at the strangely-dressed man beside him. “Is it enough?”

The vendor’s eyes bugged out of his head. “This is too much.”

“Consider it a bonus, for putting up with my friend’s antics.” Kestrel turned to the man with a smile, hoping he would play along. “Come, let’s go back home.”

He placed his hand against the man’s back, but not before taking the urn and handing it to him. Kestrel escorted the man away from the shops and people and down a more private road.

He stopped when they were far enough from other people that no one would overhear.

The man looked at him curiously, his gloved hands shaking a little as he held the urn. He rotated it, tilted it, looked at it from every angle imaginable, then began to smile brightly. “Thank you,” he said, “I do not think I would have made it out of that unscathed.”

Kestrel laughed. “I’m sure you would’ve managed it.”

“I’m Thomas,” the man - Thomas - held out his hand. “And who are you, good sir?”

“Kestrel.” he answered, shaking Thomas’s hand with vigour.

---

His love for Greek literature was threatened by the appearance of Shakespeare. He couldn’t help but adore the man’s craft; his way with writing and creating likeable and repulsive characters; his amazing skill for both comedy and tragedy; the way he had risen to fame and even earned the favour of the queen herself.

He had arranged tickets to see one of his favourite plays and took his seat. It was a more private area, since he found that sitting with other people was quite tedious, at times, and that  plays were far more enjoyable with less clamour.

A man walked in. “My apologies, sir, but there aren’t many more seats available. Would you mind sharing with another?”

Kestrel nodded. “I see nothing wrong with that. Tell the fellow that he is welcome here with me.”

Bowing his head in response, the man scurried away, then returned with—

Oh.

The man disappeared, and Kestrel was suddenly alone with Thomas. He hadn’t aged a day; no wrinkles, no crow’s feet around his eyes, nothing. He was just as youthful as the day Kestrel first met him.

Which couldn’t be possible, since it had been several centuries since their last encounter. Unless Thomas was also…?

“I recognise you,” Thomas said, breathlessly. “You— you’re that man. From Ancient Greece.”

“How are you still alive?” he blurted out.

Thomas’s brows furrowed in thought. His eyes took in Kestrel’s clothing, his hair - which he had to cut short, sadly - and his face, lingering a bit too long on certain features.

Kestrel felt his cheeks colour, and looked down at his lap. He nervously fidgeted with his hands. “Why don’t we enjoy the play?” he suggested. “Then we can talk afterwards. Perhaps go for a nightcap.”

Hesitant, Thomas sat down beside him. Their shoulders brushed against each other for a brief moment.

“I think I would enjoy that very much, indeed.”

He wanted to never see Thomas go. He wanted to learn everything he could about the man who had disappeared for centuries and then came back.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

It took a short while for that to sink in. He wasn’t alone anymore. Kestrel didn’t know what to do. He could sing, he could cry, he could dance for hours on end and never stop!

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, a nervous smile on his face.

Kestrel beamed back at him with an expression akin to a child on Christmas day. “Yes. More than alright, in fact.”

Their attention was snatched by the commencing play as the actors rushed onto the stage.

He was not alone anymore. Maybe things would be different this time.

New Life Superhero/Villain AU!

My ideas for (some) of the creators in New Life as heroes or villains.

Heroes:

Jimmy - 'Cold Guy'

Gem - 'Inferno'

Sausage - 'Phoenix'

Owen/Sparrow - 'Copper'

Jimmy can manipulate ice to obtain super speed as well as create icy barriers to shield himself and others. Some joke that his abilities and Martyn''s are so similar that they could be siblings, but Jimmy refuses to divulge whether or not he was born with his powers.

Gem can control and manipulate fire. She accidentally burned fWhip with it when they were children and has never forgiven herself for it since. She believes he is dead.

Sausage can also manipulate fire, but unlike Gem, he can use it to fly as well as being able to heal people in a close radius to him. As a result, he chooses to fight long-range to avoid accidentally healing the villains he's fighting.

Sparrow is more durable and can fight longer than the others, as well as needing less rest and food. He tends to go on nightly patrols because of this. He stays away from Scott as they were friends as children.

Villains:

Scott - 'Mycellium'

Martyn - 'Blizzard'

Pearl - 'Golem'

fWhip - 'Trickster'

Scott has the power to summon and control fungi, and can grow them on people and animals to control them. In the past he used his ability on Jimmy, and Jimmy now has a scar on his chest from it.

Martyn can control ice to make himself impervious to attacks. He, like Jimmy, refuses to reveal how he got his powers, but for very different reasons. Martyn has scars all over his body and only Scott knows the reason for them.

Pearl has the same abilities as Sparrow and uses them so that she can carry out the harder work with less risk (e.g: bigger heists with higher risk of injury, taking on cops/vigilantes whilst the others continue what they're doing). She refuses to fight Sausage, but can't recall or explain why.

fWhip can shrink himself and uses this ability for breaking and entering, as well as stealing. Gem believes he died, but in truth he just shrank himself and ran away. He hasn't told her the truth, but holds nothing against her.

So what do you think? Who else could be a hero/villain? Any interesting backstory ideas?

The End Has Come

It's all over now.

Scott finally got his happy ending. Shirking his crown, he happily went off with Milo. It worked. The spell worked. Now Scott was able to live out his life with his love. Scott was Milo's moonlight, his little shadow. Losing his magic was a price he was willing to pay if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with Milo. Scott was overjoyed.

Lauren was happy. She made friends! After years of being in the desert, alone, she had people that made her laugh. People that she cared about, and cared about her in return. Lauren liked having friends. It was much better than being alone, that's for sure. But her mind was doubtful. She ran instead of fighting that demon. Would the others forgive her? Lauren wouldn't know.

Pris was going to start her own family in the ocean. Pride welled in her chest as she swam amidst the waves. She could visit her sister. She could live her life. There was no way anyone could ever say she wasn't overjoyed. The water passed over her skin and she relished in the feeling. Pris was happy.

Shelbie was home again. It was awkward, especially after she set off the rain again, but she couldn't complain. Not when she was welcomed with open arms and into a warm hug. She melted into the touch with a smile on her face. Shelbie was grateful.

Eloise had found that crown. Some loser had just left it on the ground! And whilst she didn't know how someone could just leave it there, she didn't question it. Eloise readily picked it up and placed it on her head. She paid no mind to the runes on the ground, nor the circles of chalk. Eloise didn't see the shimmering dark-green glow pass over the crown.

Joey had followed Tiff through that portal. There was nowhere else that she could've gone. He scrunched his eyes shut and tried to ignore the unsettling crawl of goosebumps on his skin as the portal transported him. He didn't need to return to the mages that tossed him away when his magic was revealed. He didn't need to prove himself to them anymore. Joey just had to find his friend and make sure she was okay.

Tiff couldn't help but grin. This would be a new adventure. A new world. Those voices called to her, beckoning her to come with them, more hypnotic than a siren's song. Tiff wanted to take the plunge. Just like she had done with the competition. Only this time, there was no major incentive to do it. No Mother Nature calling her forth to help protect the plants. Tiff had chosen this.

Cleo marveled at her new body. No more rotted flesh. No more stitches holding her limbs together. No more time spent having to struggle with an undead body she was condemned to be trapped within. Cleo finally had a normal body again. A normal body with a beating heart. With no stitches. With no risk of falling apart if not for her magic keeping her together. Cleo was content.

Bertha had to follow Joey and Tiff. Without them, the two would likely get themselves in trouble within mere minutes. So, albeit somewhat reluctantly, Bertha bade their beloved Mertha goodbye as they ran towards the portal and stepped in. They watched as Mertha's image dissipated slowly. Everything soon was covered in green, green, green. Green everywhere. Just green. Bertha had to help them.

Happy endings never last. Loose strings must always be tied when all is said and done.

The story is not over just yet.

Gem & The Scotts' First Concert

"You think this'll work?" Impulse asked, nervously peeking around the curtain.

Gem smiled. "I'm sure it's gonna be great."

Scott tapped his fingers repetitively against his arm. He glanced at the guitar laid out for him - cyan, with the green, yellow and red heart symbols running down the frets. This was a gamble; how'd they even know this would work out alright?

"This better not be someone's task," he muttered. Picking up his guitar by the strap and pulling it on, he strummed a few test chords for the umpteenth time that evening.

Impulse's hand twitched at his side, the other releasing its grip on the curtain. He took a deep breath and took a seat at the drum kit, picking up the drumsticks and tapping them against each other as quietly as possible.

Gem stood in that positive, easy-going way of hers, her hand gently gripping the microphone. Her hair cascaded down her back in tumbling ginger waves.

Their make-up had been a minor concern. Back-stage wasn't exactly the coldest, being uncomfortably hot at its best. For the past half-hour or so the trio had been vigorously panicking over whether it would stay or not.

They could only hope.

"And now, introducing..." there was a pause in the voice - Grian's, if he was correct - and the trio nodded at each other. "Gem and the Scotts!"

The curtain was yanked back.

The crowd of fellow Life members applauded and cheered. Gem plastered on that blindingly uplifting smile of hers that Scott could only wish he had.

Impulse tapped the drumsticks together over his head, counting up to four with a loud enthusiasm.

Scott strummed the first few chords. They were the ones he'd worried about most, as messing those ones up threw the whole song off its rhythm.

Gem began to sing. He went over the chords in his head, relying on a dangerous mix of muscle memory and mental effort. Her voice was powerful, stronger than the quaking earth and the rolling waves. She carried herself with an air of confidence, as if she belonged on that stage.

She began stamping her foot; their audience copied the motion. Scott joined in as well.

He leaned forwards into the mic in front of him and harmonised with her like they'd practised. Impulse joined in a few lines after. They sang the chorus in unison, their voices mixing together in the best possible way.

The crowd, by that point, had begun to sing along, having learnt the chorus and deeming their knowledge good enough to join in.

Hearing so many people gleefully singing along almost made him stop playing in shock. He hesitated, not long enough to disrupt the song, but enough for his forehead to start sweating in panic.

Slowly, Gem drew the song to a close.

He dared to look at Impulse, and found him smiling like a fool. Scott must have been as well, if he were being honest.

---

The rest of the evening continued mostly in the same way, only that they became more relaxed as time went on.

By the end, though, they were exhausted.

"I need to nap for three years," Scott said.

"Same." Impulse ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sweating like hell. Why's it so goddamn hot out there?"

Gem chuckled. "It's the lights."

"Damn lights." Impulse said, half-laughing at the end of his sentence.

"Wanna head home? It's pretty late." Scott checked the clock on the wall. Eleven-fifteen.

As soon as he said that, Impulse yawned, stretching his arms behind his head and arching his back. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Besides, we can play again in the morning, just us. No one else is gonna be here."

"Is that just an excuse to go home earlier?" Gem asked, a playful grin on her face.

"Would you blame if it was?"

She shook her head. "Nah, I see where you're coming from." Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Gem beckoned for them to do the same.

Scott put his guitar in its case, closed it then pulled the strap over his shoulder and held onto it with a white-knuckle grip.

Impulse just stood up, grabbing a water bottle and chugging it like he'd been wandering through a desert for days.

"Last one home does the dishes!" Impulse yelled, already bolting for the door.

"Hey!" Gem and Scott yelled simultaneously. Then, with a shared look between them, ran forwards. They shoved each other as they got to the door, squeezed through and sprinted after Impulse.

The Colony

Scott could feel the mushrooms.

Every tiny nook and cranny that he could place them in wasn't safe to the eyes of his brethren. Through them he could see. Through them he could hear. Through them he could feel.

There was no privacy in the colony. Everything was shared. That way no one had to deal with things alone.

But that also meant that Scott's pain was shared with the entire colony. His anguish, his agony, his sorrow. Every mushroom in his colony felt it and resonated with it.

He hated it. Hated how miserable he made his colony feel.

But as quickly as it'd come, the hatred would dissipate as the mushrooms soothed him with gentle words. His mind would be lulled into silence with their tender tune of love and adoration; because why wouldn't they adore him? Not many fungal mages roamed the lands anymore. They were few; a tiny sub-populace, a dying minority that would fade away.

The colony couldn't let him be destroyed by his sadness. He was the one spreading their power across the world. So they treated him like the blessing he was.

Scott sat on the mycellium outside his house, one hand tenderly stroking the ground and humming a small melody.

"How are you settling in? Hmm. That's good. I was worried that Martyn's Dollop would be a bit hard to adjust to. It's nice to know you're doing well. Oh? Don't tell me you just learned about the Coliny. They're nice, I promise. Yes, I know, you'll be fine! They aren't competition. They are just... frozen creepers? Yeti creepers? Something like that."

The mycellium around him spoke in a mixture of tones and voices.

"Oh no, I doubt Martyn will find you too quickly. He'll take a while at least. Probably a couple weeks. Maybe some months. He isn't as dense as I'd like him to be, but he's dumb enough."

He felt their worry. Their fear of discovery. And at that he shook his head and tutted.

"Don't fret, my babies. If he does try to uproot you or hurt you..." He trailed off and glared at the sinking sun. "I'll show the fury of the colony. Every single one of his colins shall fall."

It was a promise. The sun, the moon and the blinking stars were his witnesses.

"What's this about killing my colins?"

"Oh. Martyn." Scott stood up and greeted the chillager. "How are you? Is there something you need?"

"Nah, just passing through," Martyn waved him off. "Although, what happened to your last origin?"

"I died."

"I know that! What are you now? How'd you die?"

He shrugged. "Fell. But now I'm even better! I'm a fungal mage!"

Martyn tilted his head like a puzzled puppy. "What's that?"

Scott didn't give him an answer. "I'm not alone now. I have my colony! No matter where I go, as long as I have mycellium, they are with me as well. It's wonderful! Nothing is private anymore! I don't need to worry about secrets! Or going through things alone!"

"I-"

"You'd love it Martyn. It's like never losing your inner child. Like always being able to cling to the parts of you that you love most. I have help for every problem!"

"This doesn't seem healthy." Martyn stepped forward and placed his hand on Scott's cheek. "Are you sure you're alright?" His touch was cold, but it didn't bother him. Scott leaned into it.

"Perfectly fine!"

Martyn's lips tugged down for a second, but returned to a thin line of indifference.

"I'd best be off."

"See you later!" Scott smiled, waving as his friend went away.

---

"He's not okay."

"What do you think it is?"

"He kept mentioning a colony. Acted as if he had a psychic connection with them as long as he had mycellium."

"Hmm. Check everyone's bases. There might be stuff there."

"You sure? What if we're just, y'know, overestimating this? It might just be harmless."

"I doubt it."

"Fine. I'll start looking."

Ballad of Secrets

The Canary fell, but was not the first

An age of deceit, a broken curse

Slain at the hand of his ally another time

The light of The Stars has dimmed, gone past its prime

The Moon has set, a new era come

As The Sun shall rise, all pain undone

And as Mars died in a final war

Putting an end to the blood and gore

The Slayer's sword fell from her hand

And she joined the chorus, the rest of her band

And as Earth stood at the Secret Keeper

Ready to meet the grim reaper

He was not yet done

He never would be

But Earth was among them now

Now, and for all eternity

A Dead Canary In The Garden

Scott stared out of his window in a trance. The shimmering water of the lake was illuminated by the golden rays of light from the sun dipping below the horizon. Trees surrounded this lake in a protective circle in a desperate effort to hide the lake from Scott's clutches. That's what it felt like. But in all fairness, he wasn't exactly the best person to have around. Death and decay clung to him, shackles that he could never remove no matter how hard he tried. Maybe once he could have done it, but not anymore. Not since the one person Scott loved more than life had been taken from him.

Now he was resigned to watching the lake from a distance. He didn't trust himself to go near it. Maybe later. For now, it felt like attempting such a feat would end badly. Particularly with the lake evaporating or bubbling to the point where it would burn anyone who even tried to come near it. Almost like how Scott had tried to hide himself from the other witches. After all, wouldn't he always be the bad guy in their stories? The Necromantic Witch, who brought the undead with him wherever he went, who cursed those he deigned worthy of such burdens, who would actively seek out trouble by attacking his fellow witches or simply messing with them. Thinking back on it, he didn't even know if he was the good guy in his own story. How could he be?

Sighing to himself, Scott left the confines of his house. The walls sought to suffocate him, and that wasn't something Scott could deal with right now. But what if he let it happen? If he let the walls suck the air out of his lungs and finally allow Scott to die? Would he be happy? Would Scott finally see him again? He chuckled to himself. If the Necromantic Witch had died, he had no doubt in his mind that the others would find it amusing. The irony of it pulled another laugh out of his lungs.

Wandering slowly outside, he allowed his feet to carry him. He didn't have a particular destination in mind. As long as he was moving, he'd be fine. Movement meant he was alive. Or maybe he'd been reanimated by a different necromancer. Either way, it meant he was walking, which was good. Most of the time, death meant nothingness for eternity. Or so that's what all those books had taught him.

To his surprise, he found himself in a familiar part of the forest. One he hadn't been to since he received the letter stating he'd be partaking in a competition to become Supreme Witch. Since he had built the home they had dreamt of before-....

He shook his head.

Scott approached the back of the cabin. A small patch of grass lay behind it, distinctly out of place. It was a far brighter patch of grass than the decayed grass surrounding it. A single flower was left there along with a small headstone with lovingly carved words on its surface. Scott remembered carving it. The grief that had wracked his body almost made him mess up. Luckily, he'd managed to carve it correctly without any huge mistakes.

"Hello again Petal," Scott said quietly. He stared down at the flower on the ground. A poppy. Symbolising death and remembrance. "Do you like the flower? I'm sorry I couldn't get you more. Flowers don't seem to like me much anymore." He paused. No answer came from the grave. Only silence. "I love you. And I will get you back. I promise." He knelt down and picked up the poppy. He kissed each one of its many petals and carefully placed it back on the grave.

One way or another, he would bring him back.

Limited Life Winner Symbolism

So I had a few ideas for the symbolism of the winner of Limited Life and this is it:

The Sky: As the timer ticks down, the Sky remains the same. They change with time as all may do, but ultimately they remain loyal and are still the same person no matter what. They live their life as the others around them focus on the dwindling of time left to live. At the end of it all, the Sky will honour the fallen and remember them all eternally, even in death.

The Sea: Strong and powerful, the Sea is dedicated to protecting those closest to them. Their waves, raging or calm, move with the pull of the Moon and smile up at the Stars. At the end of it all, when those around them are dead and gone, the Sea will welcome its fate with open arms.

The Void: They take and take relentlessly, prepared to kill to delay their inevitable death. The Void is ready to die, but will go out swinging or won't go out at all. Theatrical and brave, they will fight until the end and accept their death with open arms, prepared to join the others.

This is all I have for now!