water skid


They find out that turning bombs into firework was not a good idea (“I told you! I told you this would happen!”, Perceptor moans in annoyance) and they spend the whole night putting the fire on the ship out.

But this is the Lost Light, everybody is used to things going horribly wrong, and so they take it relatively easy, drink Champagne anyway, wish each other a happy new year while running around with buckets of water and still have a good time together. 

I cannot help but feel so alone. So many people have entered, left, and stayed in my life yet my soul feels lonesome right now. There have been moments, like splashes of water, skidding across my 21 years where I felt I belonged. I had a place. I was fulfilled. But the vibrations settle. The ripples smooth themselves out. Nothing again. I sail on.