The puzzledPlayer heads NORTH as I watch.
A Quotidian trails after them. Not one of the ones from a layer up. Just a little juttering consort version. It's fine. They haven't escaped containment yet (manic would kill me if they escaped containment, it's fine).
They're in one of my least favorite rooms. The sticky damp of pneumonia is something I can never get used to.
When they jump into the bottomless pit I massage my temple.
It figures. Wastes never like staying within bounds. Where WAS that again?
I consult the map on the wiki. Gah, why did I move some of the doors around last night? Is it still there...
You know what. I can wait to find the pit. I don't even know if there's supposed to be anything new in there yet.
I go back to Observing the Player (and isn't this a fun twist on things? I enjoy the Wastes having a more active role these days, rather than merely watching).
A lot of falling...some friendship with the bird... Standard Norse mythos (why is this branch of SBURB so filled with Norse mythos?) .
Huh. They think *I* am the God of the Apocalypse? Bluuuuuuuuuh.
*I*'m the one trying to keep all these damn plates spinning. No respect around here.
SURE there's something like a 30% mortality rate in my simulations but that's WELL WITHIN TOLERANCES. Hardly an Apocalypse.
Don't come crying to me when narrative stability collapses in on itself and you're all left dealing with a big dumb snake trying to create a Universe.
I leave the pair falling.
They can figure their own next steps out.