World Refugees Final Mix

Whoa, uhh...

I mean, not that this is unwelcome or anything? But I kind of thought I was done with the whole world-hopping thing.

Where am I, anyway? This is definitely new and not Disney.


EDIT: I appear to be in Wanderer's Refuge. Very few people will talk to me. Will update as I find out more.

UPDATE: I figured it out! When the newspaper lady realized I was an off-worlder, she explained their customs to me. Apparently, everyone on the world wears a Truth of Heart crystal. They're little charms you can put on necklaces and stuff. Anyway, they show your level of Light or Darkness, so merchants can tell if you're trustworthy or not. I wasn't wearing one, so that's why no one would sell me a goddamn newspaper. But newspaper lady helped me find a mage who could give me one, and now I have it and a Scrier. Everyone has a Scrier too, because apparently the world is in a constant state of flux! This city is pretty stable, but if I had stayed out in that forest, or gone somewhere else, I probably would have gotten lost.

Guys, this world is amazing! You've got to come here. I can't explore this whole place alone.

[Auria is yelling. Her mic is perched on top of her laptop and she can't get it down.]

This! Is! Easier! Than! Typing!

I can't! Eat! Anything! Please! Send! Help!

Guys?

I...I dunno what happened. But I woke up this morning sweating really bad and feeling feverish. I had a weird dream, but I don't remember what it was. Now my stomach hurts. It's like I'm dreading a final or something.

I mean, I've read all the posts. There's something to be dreading, and it's even worse because we don't know what. But I hate having this feeling.

What should I be doing? I need something to keep my mind off this.

Parents called me home.

Tried to ignore them, but I feel guilty. 'Parently, a bunch of my family is getting divorced, all at once, and there are birthdays to attend and friends with whom I should visit.

Idk. It just doesn't feel the same, the second time out.

They really ARE working on an interplanetary mail system. As if my dad's job wasn't hard enough. :P

He says basically, if your letter's going to another world, just add the name below the normal address. So like...this.

Auria Tetsukai
123 Fake St NE
Buttfuck Nowhere, WA 11111
EARTH

Or RADIANT GARDEN (he says HOLLOW BASTION still works too, since some people forget) or ANDALASIA or what have you. But you have to make sure it's at the bottom of the address, since a lot of worlds (NEW YORK, PARIS) kind of have doubles on Earth.

As for Mirror Earth...idk. Whatever happened to their world?

Anyway, for interworldly mail, you can't throw it in your mailbox. It has to be dropped off at these add-ons they're constructing onto regular post offices. They'll be called WPS OFFICES and will be sort of like sticking a shack on the side of a good old brick building, because this is a rushed job. They're starting to construct gummi mail trucks and training new recruits--Dad says there's no way he'll sign up for that. xD

Interplanetary mail will take loads longer, though--we're looking at months, depending on how far out into gummispace you are. Seriously, you're better off emailing shit, but don't tell that to the government--they've already thrown in like six billion dollars into this system and you know how America is: she simply can't admit failure.

Wow, this got sort of long-winded. Sorry, guys, but I got kind of excited about it. Anyway, there you go. Send care packages to your families or whatever. And I want my goddamn gumdrop ornament.

My parents made me go back to school. It's not at all different from when I left, except that people give me funny looks and I have a bracelet that lets me come to school with a different hair color and style every day. Birdie is here, and doing well--her family managed to get back together safely. Sarah is here too, and I haven't told her about meeting her mirror self. I think she'd stop talking to me.

Actually, I've stopped talking to people. It feels weird.

I'm taking Creative Writing. My teacher has high hopes for my work because he wants to hear all about the Dreaming War and betrayal and anger and mourning and everything else we did out there. We started a poetry unit. I think he's mad at me because all of my poems sound like this:

Not long now until
the sauce is done and we can
bring our friends closer.

He has no idea what it's about. He wants me to write about battles, not about Operation Luvdisc. Tough shit for him.

By the way, I hate that every poetry unit one does in school begins with haiku. Can't we start with limericks? Way more fun.

I haven't told anybody about my wish. Not even my parents. They don't have to know.