Rolled 3 (1d3)
>>5905219>>5905222>>5905343>>5905375>>5905389>>5905907This is bad. Things are NOT GOOD. This whole scenario is a far-flung nightmare version of how you might have envisioned a bittersweet departure. As much as you’ve enjoyed your time on the moon, to stay under these conditions—not knowing what is happening on Earth—would be kore than you could stand. Almost ANYTHING is preferable—<Clones>of yourself, making war on the Gods themselves, ANYTHING!
But only one option seems at all viable.
You cast <Free Senses> and, true to form, your senses are freed. Liberated from the mentalism of the moon goddess, you can see and hear the truth once again… Including your friends, Nym and Devi.
“Please, Your Majesty… Do not do it this way.”
“He will reject this, and rebel, and it will poison Ezreal against you.”
“it’s not too late to just talk to him… WE can talk to him, make him see the wisdom behind your worry.”
“Enough,” pronounces Princes Yllarquin. “You are compromised, Neremyn. You as well, Devidan. You have become over-fond of this mortal.”
“We are not…!” Neremyn begins to protest, only for the words to die in his throat.
“He is a good person,” Devi whispers. “He means well.”
You heart hurts for your friends—for how they try to defend you even against the word of a god, how they struggle against what they believe to be right for your sake… But they are children of the gods. They cannot defy their mothers. They falter, and fail, and hang their head ashamed.
“I am sorry I let things get this far,” Nym mumbles. “I take full responsibility.”
“No, it is… We are both at fault,” Devi whispers. “We did not teach him all that we should have.”
“Nobody is to blame,” the goddess says. And rests a hand upon each of their shoulders. “There si no blame to cast. All will be well.”
“Yes,” you interject through gritted teeth. “It WILL be.”
All three sets of eyes are upon you then, snaping to you instantaneously as you speak up.
“Wait!” Nym shouts.
“Ezreal!” Devi cries.
“Do not—” Princess Yllarquin begins.
But it is too late. Your hand finds the envelope. You have no time to write a message to Izzy, obviously, nor the implements to do so. You can only charge the concealed letter with magic and hope that, when and if it reaches her, she will understand the urgency of your act and fin some way to extricate you from this situation.
[Success on a 2 or 3, failure on a 1]
