//------------------------------// // Luna Romana // Story: The Clock with Three Faces // by Sixes_And_Sevens //------------------------------// “My word,” said Rarity standing upright and brushing herself off. “What a dreadful landing.” Calco glanced around. “I dislike this,” he said quietly. They stood in a bleak waste of sand and rock. Colgate stared around, squinting at the surroundings. “I… don’t remember this…” she said slowly. “Or… do I?” The Doctor remained kneeling on the ground, his face blank. “We shouldn’t’ve come here.” Caramel rose. “Maybe there’s something more over that ridge?” he suggested. The Doctor closed his eyes. “Please don’t,” he whispered. Applejack gave him a funny look, and then turned to scale the rocks. It was easier than she had expected; having fingers was helpful. After a few minutes, she pushed herself up onto a ledge and looked out at the landscape below. She froze, halfway between crouching and rising. This world was dead. “Where are we?” she asked in a hushed whisper. Below her, she saw a massive desert. Dead trees littered the sands, occasionally interspersed with burn marks that must have been miles in diameter. In the center of it all, a dome, larger than anything she had ever seen. No, that wasn’t quite true. The shield spell over the Crystal Empire was just as big, and looking closer, Applejack could see that, through the dusty and warped glass, there was indeed a city under that dome. “Gallifrey,” a  dull voice said from behind her. “In the last days of the Time War. The last days of being. The last days of ever having been.” The Doctor stood a few feet back from the edge, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “We really shouldn’t be here,” he said. “As in, it should be quite impossible to be here. This whole planet, the whole war, was timelocked. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out.” “So… how come we’re here?” “Best guess? Those coordinates were programmed in before the Time War. Being in an alternate universe, they didn’t get wiped properly.” There was something in his expression that Applejack didn’t like. Or, rather, there was something missing from his expression. It was as though all emotion had left him. “Hey.” Applejack put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get ya home.” As soon as she realized what she had said, she winced, looking down at the decimation of the Doctor’s planet. “Uh, Ah mean—” The Doctor pressed his lips together in an approximation of a smile, but his eyes were as empty and dead as the plains below. “Quite right. Yes. I think that would be best.” Together, the two started down the rocky ledge. The Doctor paused. “What’s wrong with Colgate?” She was lying prone on the ground as the others stood around her. The Doctor hurried down the cliff. Applejack let herself drop and ran to the dentist's side. *** Colgate blinked lazily. The world was hot, and her head was throbbing. Her hair was heavy with sweat. "What a miserable place," Rarity said. "It's worse than Appaloosa in July." "Colgate," Calco said. "Do you remember this place?" "Nnh," Colgate groaned. "Think so? Kinda fuzzy." "Whoa," Caramel said. "You feeling okay there, bud?" Colgate opened her mouth to reply, but spoke only a low moan. "Okay, so that's a no," Caramel said, taking her hands in his and guiding her toward a rock. Rarity hurried over, fussing like a mother hen. "Oh, dear. You don't suppose it's heat stroke, do you?" Calco snorted. "It would need to be much hotter than this to get heat stroke as quickly as that," he said. "Shuddup," Colgate growled. Her heartbeat was echoing in her ear/One of her hearts sounded faint. "I can almost remember--" "Gallifrey," the Doctor said, up on the rocks above, and she wasn't quite sure how she heard him, but she certainly did, and that word and this place and these memories-- "Oh," said Colgate. "Damn," said Minuette. "Otherfu-," said Romana, her eyes glowing golden. Then, as the mind behind them struggled to comprehend this sudden onslaught of contradictory memories, her eyes drifted shut, fading her friends' horrified faces out to black. *** "She just passed out," Rarity said, fanning Colgate's unconscious body. "The poor dear looked like she came over with a fever, all of a sudden, and--" "Her eyes went gold," Calco said, barely restraining his alarm. "She isn't going to die, right?" Caramel said, not even bothering to try hiding his own fear. "Not if I can help it." The Doctor grabbed Calco’s wrist. “Open up the void.” “But, the robots,” the Tharil protested. “We'll be quick. Go! Now! We need to get to Canterlot, I think I know what’s going on!” The Tharil hesitated. He looked to Colgate as Applejack hauled her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His face hardened. He focused as hard as he could. Slowly, the world began to fade to white. “Right. Caramel, give me the manipulator.” “Why aren’t we ponies again?” Rarity asked. “Rarity. Focus. Where is Canterlot relative to Ponyville?” “About forty miles northwest,” she replied promptly. “Right.” The Doctor fiddled with the coordinates. “Come on, come on,” he muttered. “And… Calco! Get us to P-Space!” “P-Space?” “Short for Pony-Space!” The leonine giant focused, his forehead lining. Shapes began to form in the whiteness— a fence here, a back door there. The ground began to turn green and grassy. “Right. Everyone hold on, one last trip,” the Doctor said. He slammed down on the teleport button, and the world whirled away in a flash. *** In Colgate’s mind, she could see it all as it happened. The world was burning. All around her, walls were collapsing with age and strain, or had simply never existed to begin with. Sounds of pain and terror could be heard from all sides. A woman with brown hair and bright blue eyes looked down at her, head cradled in the stranger’s— no, not a stranger—  lap. “Do not go, my love,” she whispered. Colgate tried to smile, to assure her as she had done so many other times that it would be fine. The woman looked down at her, eyes wide and glistening. “Romana. Please. Stay strong for just a while longer.” Colgate frowned. This hadn’t happened before. “It isn’t happening now, either.” the woman said gently. “This is a dream.” Her form twisted, hair turning darker, almost blue. “And that makes it my domain.” Colgate stared in befuddlement. “Princess… Luna?” “Indeed.” The unicorn thought for a moment. “What are you doing here?” “Well,” said the princess. “That is a rather long story. However, since you appear to be dying, we may as well tell you.” “Wait, I’m dying?” Colgate asked, sitting bolt upright. Princess Luna paused, then facehoofed. “Shouldn’t have told you that.” “But— but-— I can’t be dying! I don’t want to!” Colgate shouted. “You were much calmer about this when you were actually dying a few seconds ago,” the princess said, frowning. “That was a memory!” Colgate said with a wave of her hoof. Then, she froze. “That… was a memory…” she repeated. “Why do I remember dying? How can I remember dying?” “A memory…” Luna repeated, rubbing her chin. “Yes, that would explain why we were unable to get through. And now that you are dying, fantasy and memory mingle into one… Most intriguing.” “Princess!” Luna looked up. “Why can I remember dying?” The Princess of the Night looked startled for a moment, and then her expression softened. “Apologies,” she said quietly. “I had not given much thought to your emotions. Please, excuse me.” Colgate breathed in and out slowly. “That’s alright,” she said at length. “I used to do the same thing.” Luna locked eyes with her. “Another memory?” “Yes. The trouble is, I don’t know whose memories these are. Mine? Romana’s? Somepony else’s?” “Mm,” Luna said thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I’m afraid. I’ve been trying to get into your dreams for some time now, you know, but I was never able to pull it off until now. Some part of you, it seems, was always awake. I couldn’t get into your head properly.” “There we go again,” Colgate said, smacking her hooves together. “Multiple ‘me’s, out wandering the universe. How many clones can a mare have?” Luna remained silent, scrutinizing the pacing dentist closely. “I mean, you have to wonder if it’s coincidence at some point,” Colgate continued. “I remember looking like Strella and choosing to look like Astra— or, well, I remember Romana remembering that— and, see, that’s the thing. I can’t even trust my own memories when I don’t know whose they really are!” She stomped a hoof firmly on the floor. “Who am I? Who can I be if I don’t know who I’ve been before?” “If I may make a suggestion?” Luna said mildly. Colgate paused. “Oh. Yes, of course, your highness.” “Live in the moment.” Colgate stared at her. “Live in the moment.” “Indeed.” “So I should go back to panicking about my impending death.” “No, that’s living in the future. Right here, right now, just… stop. Think. Who is it that you want to be right now?” Colgate sat down heavily. “Right now? I don’t know. I’ve always been a dentist, at least… I think I have.” “But you don’t have to be,” Luna said. “That’s the thing about dreams. You can be anything you want in them.” Then, without so much as a disruption of the air, she was gone. Colgate stared thoughtfully around her. The dream had frozen, a moment perfectly crystallized in time. She was dying. Okay, fine. But right now, she was still alive. What could she do? Somehow, she was floating in a strange amalgamation of dream and memory, unable to impact the real world. So, she thought, what about in here? What can I do here? Her eyes fell on the frozen form of the woman who had been holding Colgate’s dying form. Her mind supplied a name. Leela. Slowly, Colgate began to smile. *** “Right,” said the Doctor. “Canterlot. Now, all we need to do is find Minuette. Thoughts?” He turned to the others expectantly. Applejack frowned. “Ah thought there weren’t no such pony,” she argued. “Ain’t she jes’ Colgate? Er, Romana? Dang, but this is tricky to keep straight!” “No, Minuette is real,” the Doctor replied. “Remember?” Rarity supplied. “She was Twilight’s friend from when she lived in Canterlot?” Applejack stared. “Ah’ll take yer word fer it,” she decided. “But Doctor, Canterlot is massive,” Caramel said, gesturing to the city at large. “How are we going to find one pony in all this?” The Doctor paused. “I don’t suppose any of you have an address?” he asked hopefully. He glanced at Calco. “Hey, big fella? Don’t suppose you know?” The Tharil-turned-pony merely shook his head sadly. The Doctor slumped. “Ah,” he said. “Well, in that case, er,” he trailed off. “Would this be helpful, Doctor?” A hoof reached out, dangling a pocketwatch under his nose. “Eh?” The Time Lord said, eyes crossing as he focused on the watch. “Wha— Oh. Oh, yes! That might just work! Colgate, you’re brilliant! If I can trace the mental connection back to its other end, then maybe…” Colgate leaned over to Calco. “How long do you give it until he realizes?” Calco held up a hoof. “Three. Two.” “Colgate?” The Tharil scowled. “So close.” The Doctor spun to look at the blue unicorn. “What? How? When? Eh?” The unicorn cut him off with a raised hoof. “I can’t explain now, I’m dying. Get me to Minuette, quickly.” The Doctor opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again. “Romana?” he whispered. “Almost. Now go! Move!” “Right!” the Doctor agreed, holding the screwdriver up to the watch. There was a brief green glow, intermixed with gold. He held the screwdriver up, sweeping it around. “Come on, come on,” he muttered. Suddenly, it lit up much brighter and the Doctor grinned. “Allons-y!” he roared, leaping forward. “So, Minuette,” Applejack began. “Colgate,” the unicorn corrected. “Sure?” “For the moment, at least.” “Good, that makes this less confusin’.” Applejack nodded. “Y’all wanna explain exactly what’s goin’ on here?” “Well, I don’t know the whole story yet,” Colgate admitted. “But basically…” *** Colgate slowly trotted over to the frozen woman. “Hello?” she asked “Leela?” As though waking from a trance, the woman blinked and rose to her feet. “What is this? Romana?” Colgate lifted a hoof, smiling weakly. “Hi.” Leela froze, pale eyes staring into darker ones. At length, she let out a strangled chuckle. “You Time Lords often have said that regeneration was a game of chance,” she said, sitting down next to the blue unicorn. “This, however, is unexpected.” Colgate rolled her eyes. “Try living it,” she sighed. “Anyway, I don’t know how much time we’ve got, so let’s cut to the chase. This is a dream. My dream. But it’s also a sort of memory. You are… some kind of subconscious avatar? Probably? Shoot, I think that was one of Minuette’s thesis papers.” Leela looked blank. Colgate sighed. “I can try to explain better…” “No,” Leela decided. “You said you were in a hurry. Why?” “Well,” Colgate began, and told Leela the rough outline of the story. The warrior was a good listener, and she sat cross-legged before the unicorn, staring intently into her eyes as though it were a perfectly normal thing to do. At the end, Leela leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, which was frozen in an instant as it crumbled to dust. “What do you wish for me to do?” she asked. “I’m not sure,” Colgate said. “I just wanted someone to talk to. Although, any ideas you have would be welcome.” Leela nodded. “I do not think that you should wait here to die. Such inaction would be not only ignoble, but foolish.” “Okay…” Colgate said slowly. “So what do you suggest I do instead?” The warrior looked at the unicorn for a long moment. “I do not know.” “Right. Thanks.” “You do not know either, Colgate.” “I’m aware.” “But we are not the only two minds present,” the warrior continued. Colgate froze. “Leela?” “Yes?” “I believe I know why Romana loved you so much.” The warrior smiled thinly. Colgate took in a deep breath. Then she let it out slowly. “What happens next?” she asked. Leela’s smile vanished. “What do you mean?” “I’ve worked it out. Either Minuette is a fake personality that Romana made up, or I am. One of us is going to die so she can come back.” Leela was silent for a moment. “You do not have to,” she said at length. “Only two may live, but it does not have to include Romana.” Colgate looked up in shock. “Don’t you love her?” “Oh, yes,” Leela agreed. “But I would not trade an innocent life for hers. She would not want that. And, in the end, it is not my choice. Colgate. It is time for you to wake up.” *** “So, yer either gonna have t’ die or let somepony else die for ya,” Applejack said. “Pretty much. I don’t think Minuette’s in any real danger, though. I’ve been getting all the memories, after all, and I had the pocket watch. So, it’s me or Romana.” Applejack frowned. “Alright, so where does Minuette fit into all this?” Colgate opened her mouth, then winced. “Assuming either Romana or I survive, you’ll get that explanation after the fact. I need to conserve my energy.” Applejack nodded. After a moment, Colgate spoke up again. “Don’t tell the Doctor. He’ll try to stop me.” “Which one are ya gonna choose?” Applejack asked. Colgate was silent once more. Just when Applejack thought she wasn’t going to answer at all, she replied, “I’ll let you know when I’ve decided.” *** Starlight lay another wet cloth over Minuette’s forehead. “She’s burning up,” she whispered. Twilight merely looked on in forlorn silence. “I’ll call a doctor,” Starlight continued. “She needs medical attention.” “A Doctor, you say?” Twilight and Starlight spun around. Standing in the door was a tan stallion in a necktie. “Doctor?” Twilight asked, incredulous. “What are you doing here?” The Doctor lit up. “Twilight! And you must be Miss Glimmer, I’ve heard so much about you. And this is Minuette, I suppose?” “Doctor, now is not the—” Twilight began. Starlight interrupted. “Can you help her?” “Me? Well. No. But I know somepony who thinks she can.” The door swung open and five more ponies pushed into the steadily more claustrophobic space. “What’s going on here?” Twilight demanded. “How did you all know where I was? Or— huh?” This last was in response to Colgate pushing past her and making her way toward the bed. She looked at the prone form in the bed for a long moment. Starlight stared. “They’re like twins,” she whispered. “Triplets,” Applejack corrected. “Now, y’all jes’ stand back. Let th’ mare get things done.” The Doctor stared at Applejack. “Why, what’s she planning?” Applejack looked away. The Doctor turned toward the dentist, a word of warning forming on his lips as Colgate opened the pocketwatch Ribos Operation Lying Old Witch in the Wardrobe A̵n̷d̸ Square One Inquiry Horns of Nimon Shada Lies Chaos Pool e̷̚͜v̸͕̗̎ẹ̷̏͂r̴͐̕͜ỳ̵̬͙t̵̛̯̟̃ẖ̶͓̀i̶̥̪̅̌n̵̤͛̕g̸̱͔͒ Warrior's Gate Stones of Blood City of Death Leisure Hive Destiny of the Daleks Apocalypse Element Armageddon Factor Panacea h̶͎̑̈́̚a̴̖̻̖̜̾p̵̻͛͋́ Ancestor Cell Androids of Tara Rebirth Neverland Pirate Planet p̵̤̬͚̌̑́̌̓̓͛e̷̢̛͛͊́̈́̾͋̈́͐͝n̴̪̒̿̓e̵͖̎̆̋̌̈́̈̅̇̎̀̎̕ḏ̶̘̗͖͕͇͚̗̙̪̊̓͛̎̂̽̈́͝͝ Creature From the Pit Shadows of Avalon Dimensions in Time Prime Computer Ads Enemy Lines Blood Harvest a̵̛̝̝͐̔̇͗̽͜ͅţ̶̢̡̨̦͇͖̫̲̲̺̜͈̞̰̤͕̐͆̓̒͗̓̉̃͑͘͝ͅ Auntie Matter Nightmare of Eden Goth Opera Tomb of Valdemar Imperiatrix Christmas on a Rational Planet Intervention Earth Ascencion Full Circle Power of Kroll Renaissance o̸̧̡̡̹͚̝̜̗̞̻̘̘̠̱͉̰̼̟̼̤͎͎͓̤̤͓͓͈̭̠͓̮̮̘̠̎͊͑̆̈́̊̿̒̑̆͑̈́̒̈̏͆͂͆̂̀̾̑̓̑̇͐̀̀̔͌̕͘̕̕͜͠n̴̢͍̥̬̘̗̗̰̦͇̞̈́̾͌̇͒̕c̸̨̨̛̛͍̜̘̳͓̣̯̩͉̠̺̹̖͕͚̝̹͇͕̞̰͈̟͈̫͙͐̓̿͌̓̀̏͗͊͂̔̄͒̔̀͑̎̕͘͘̕ͅe̴̡̡̪̳̱͚̳̫̩̦̭̻̼͕̭̯͈̞͉̻̞̲̖̮̐̽̈́̌̄̈́̊̏̅̚͘͠ͅ Colgate— no, M̵̧̲̯͉̰͔̈́ĭ̸̧͕̤̘͇̓͊̏nue̸͓̩̩̎͌̄͊͝ţ̸̫̲͂̓̕te̷̲͖̠̋— ń̸̩͈͚͕̯̫̣͚̤̥͉̣̣̙͂ơ̸̗̍͒̆͐͗͛̑̌͌̽̀̈́͝, Fred— no, Romana— r̸̢̢͉̹̰̼̝͚̩̲̟̜͚͙͉̭̤̐̋̓͂͐̌͆̀̎̆̓̔̆̽́͗̐̌̾̓̈́̚͜͝͝i̵̡̡̛̩̘̥̦̘̼̭̖͕̟̘̜̘̫̹̬̪̜͕̬͓̤̯͈̗̳̟̖̥̣̟̜̲̳̼̘̭̣̟̬͂͐͛̂̽͑͐̓͊̎͑̀́̈́̑̏́͋̽̆̉͆̏͋̂͑̍͛̕͘̚͘̕͜͠͝g̷̢̧̡̛̛̰̮̟̗͕̫̠̪̱̹̮̻̈̈́̒̋̅̽̓̍͊̈́̋̑͛͐́̄̈́͌̓̕̚̚͜͝͠͝h̴̨̢̢̤̝͖̹̙̻̝͍͈̬̥̟̭̞̜͍̣̭͓͕̜̗̞͇̝̞̦̼̟̳̬͗͑̄͂͊̈́̋͆̎͘ͅt̵̨̡̧̧͓̭͍̭̼͍̠̬̼̹̣̘͕̫̫̠͉̖͈͓̺͎̞͎̪͔̩̪̜͔͈͇͇̺̻̠͕̤͎̻̪̙̉̾̈́͌̑̓̿͛́͑͆̄͊̾͑̎̏̀͒̕̕̚͜͠͝ͅ ̵̡̢̢͙͕̝̮͔̼̮̭̻̳̰͇̙͔̲̥̲̤͉̮̥̗̙̜͎̰͔̥̹̖̰͕̮̥̹̹̜̲̼͉̥̬͛̓̂͆̽̔͊͛̔̇̊́̎̑͂͂͋̈́̐̕̚͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅs̶̢̢̧̛̻̹̤̬̣̩̠̞̪̤͍̗͕̮̬̮͍̳̮͉̯͈̤̙̻̯̪͓̤͎̝͚̊̒͌́̏́̓̒͗̈́̈͗̆̑́͗́͒͑̏͂͌͒̈́̌͒̀̈́̋̒̄͂̈́͐̅͗̿̚̕͘̚͠͝ͅả̴̧̢̧̡̨̨̛̗̰͖͍̖͈͕̬̖̜͖̣̟͙̟̘̗͕͕̟͎̲͉͕͙̞̣̝͖̟̬͚̟̈́̈́̏͋̅̉̂̂̍̉̈́̑̂͗͊̆͗̓̍̿̎̆͊͒̚͝͠͝͠͝i̸̧̧̡̛̛̙̞̯̳͍̘͙͔̰͚̹̥̣͖̞͈͉̘̳͎̭̱̯̞̬͕̬̓̓̈́͆̑̂̍̍̇͐͒͋̌́͑̿̏̆̀̊̋͊̏̒̐͂̃̊̈́͋͌̕͘̕̚̕͝͠͝͝͠ḑ̷̨̨̨̞̞͉̺̯̪̮̱̳̳̩͎̭̪̳͇̱̠̤̞͚̤͈̫͔̮̘̻̬̤̳͉̘̲͌̅̉̄̇͛͌̇̂̉́̈́͂̾̈́̋̎̈́̿̓͛̒̋̎̍̄̀̏͆̓͒̂͂́̍̽̽̓̕̕͘̕͜͝͝͝͠ ̶̢̨̨̡̨̨̛̹̳̖̻͕̱͖̣͔̼͈̗̯͇͇̖̖̟͍̟̭̬̩͎͇̪̠̘̖͚͓̥̻̙̯̜͕̣̯͓͍̤̏̀̌̓̎̃̊̈̿́͐̉̀͐̓̍͌̈̓̔̅̀̾̎̇̐̄͆̿̀̃̌̅͋́̀̄̉̾͋͋̑́͌̂̿͘̕͝͝f̷̡̨̻̮̟̤̲̯̣͈̟̝̟̤̩̖̬͙̥͇͖̖̣͔̟̖͇̣̭͚̝͇̩̳̰̞̳̳͇̬̥̥͍̣̈́̊̀̀̅̄̈́́̈́̂͋̃̅͋̈̐́͛̄͑̿̇̈́̌͗͌̓̐́̀̕̕͜͝͠͠͝͝ŗ̷͓̯̙̮͉̲̖̊̋̎́̾͂͑̎e̴̢̢̛̞͓̭̙͇̯͔̩̩̫͙̯͎̬̼̟̮̹͖̝͔͈̝̹̼̫̰͇͎̖̞̬͖͙̒̊̉͌̍̀͜ͅd̷̢̨̢̡̢̢̛̝̠̙̝͖̼̥̦̪̺̥͙͚̯̞̟̪̱̪̙̪̹̞͇̣̝̦̲̰͎͈̥͎͖̟̞̖̭̫͈̩̩̜͑͐̆͒͑͂̏̈́̿͆͑͆̔͆̊̋͆̌̐͂̓̓͑̃̓̉̎̆́̊̀̋͊͑̕͠͠͠͝͠͠ͅͅͅ ̵̢̨͉̠͉͙̦̣̬̖̪͇͌̊̄͐͐̈̈́͋́͂̑̀̾̔̏̅̆̿͐̿̆̕͜͜ͅb̷̧̦̣̙̹̞̭̬̤̰̘͖̬̩̪̺̦̗͕̳̤̟͙͓̝̟̤̖͔̟̳̰͈̞̙̈́̇̿̓͗̈͆̈́̈̄͌͌͂̽̑̀́͒͛̍̏͆̏͗͌̅̐̎͋̏̍̆͊͋̔̎̃̓̍̔́͘̕̚͜͠͝͠͝͝͝͝o̷̹͎̥̖̞̞͜͝͝t̷̢̛̛̥̗̭̼̻̤̭̭̹̪͔̘͈̥͇̻̥̬̠̠̩͉̠̗̠̪͒͆̓̀͌̉͂̃̊̂͐̽̌̌̄̒̆̐͐̉̾̆̆̿͌̾̀̽͊̂̈́̾̀̈́̽̇̎̄͗̏̆̃̚͝͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅh̵̢̢̨̛̬͎͈̘̼̞͓̮̺̟̝͔͎̙͚̪͒́̍͆̏̓͑͆̿̀̐̇͐̏̏̈́̓́̅̈̍͋̑̂̀̕͝͝͝ͅͅ ̷̢̧̧̨̧̡͈̱͔͙̭̳̘̩͇̘͕̱̲̱̖͇̪͉͍͖͍͇͇͖̜̜̝̥̰͎̰̝̹͖̠͍͔̼̣̬̩̜̽̒̽̇͌̋̈́̿̒̈̀̈́͋͗̍͂͌̈́͌̃͌̏̊̽͑̉̊̈́̃̉̊̈́̈́́̑̐̕̕͘͘͜͜͠͝͝͠͝ͅỏ̶̢͉͕̲͕̬̮͔̙͇̘̰͇̗̱͈̄́̑̈́͑͂̀̒́̈́̒̓͜f̶̢̛͆͑̍̓̅̓̌͋̀͋̍͑̕͝ ̸̛͇̹̘͎̥̈̈̃͒́̀̀̿͆̆͌̈́́̅̿̃͗̐̀̽̔͋̉̐͐̂̌͂͌̔̚̕u̷͎̗̇̿͊̇̿͒̎̌̀̈́̃͗̀̏͑̊̈̀̿̊̆̂̑̂̀̈́́͂̆͐̿̄̉̀́́͆̚͘̕̚͝s̶̨̧̢̢̡̞͇͕̻̬͍̱̣̰͍̙̻̟͙̘͕̖̥̙͔͙͖͈͓̥͚̪̻̤̪͓͚͚̉͗̀̓̄̓̀̃̃̉͑̐̊͐̆̈́̐̈́̇̀̄̈́̐͊͗̀͗̿͑͌́̈́̉́́̔̄̌͌͋̐̂̀́̇͋̋̕͘̕͝͝ ̷̧̛̛̠̗͍̮̻̦͇̩͙̃͑̅͛͋̒͐́͂̒̍̃͗̌̌̇́͊̑̚͠͠͠͠t̴̨̛̛̳̜̺̩̺͉͍̦̝͇͈̥̹̹̼̯̓̈́̓̓͛̾̇̊́̃̚ȯ̵̡̨̙̥͎̪̟̖̤̫̲̔͑͛̽̊́͂̾̽̍͑͗͐̏͆́͑̌̅͑͐̈́̚̕̕͘̚͝g̵̡̤͍͚̗̝̥͕̮͔̖͓̲̝̬̝̪͉̮̖̟̩̙̙̞̱̞͇̥̜̞̤͔͍̣̼͙͚̲̯̱͍͔͉̊̿̀̀́͜͝ͅͅḙ̶̮̻͎̝̆̽͊̿̋̕t̵̡̛̙̰̘͓̲̯͊̌͛͑͐̀͛̓͛͐̕ͅḥ̵̢̛͇͍̱̹̗̥̮͓̗͇̱̩͓̙̟̙̪͈̅̽̑̌̃̄̌̀̌̏͊͒̆̏̅̊̒̀͂̌͑́͂̆̀̆̉̈̆͗́̂̓̓̽̐͗̕̚͘͠͝͠ȩ̸̢̡̛͕̖͕͚͙̼̭̣̜̖̖̞̖̬̻͕̹̗̬̟̘̗͚͙̱̱̼͓̲͙̤̰͙̮̼̟͈͖̪͙͒̐̉͋̎̏̾̾́̉̄̀̍͋͗̌͗͊͐͂͋̒̓͑̂̾̓́͗̓͂̐́͂̐͒̉͘͝͠͝ŗ̵̰̹̗̝̱͙̞̻͔̙͓̥̹̜̻̠͊̎̃͌̋́̔̉͆̕̚ͅ was in a jungle— was in a TARDIS— was in the r̴͕̅̅̓̇̀̾̔͠uine̸̢͈͎̙͔̞̅̇͝d̶̡̹̲̦̜̉ ̶͇̗͇͇͇̪͐̓͋̔C̷̡̨̧̥̰̬̤̭̈́͗̅͒͋̕itḁ̶̣̞͈͓̺̈̇dë̴̡̧̮̀̓̒̄͒l̷̦̒— with a friend— with a lover— with her bodyguard— ă̵̧̢̢̫͍̜̠̝̯̠̜͇̦̣̬͖͇̗̣̲͍̝͕̼͇͈̜̫͖̩̹̩̱̳̯̒̔͑̀̋͐̈́̓̕ͅͅl̴̢̛̗̗͍͖̪̞͚͔͖͙̜̫̩͓̗͗̆̉͋͒́͊̏̚͘͠o̴̢̨̧̢̡̨̠̬̙̞̪̫̥͓̣̜͕̬̱̪͇̰̖̪̘̲̦͉͉̜̪̯̗͉̖̗̝͇̣͇͇̠̻̓͒̊͑̉̏͛̅̃̃͗̈́̾̉̒̏͗͊́̀̆̐̍̄́̓̽̾̈́̍̉̈͋̿͊͑̽̔̒͊́͠͠ͅņ̸̛̤͈̬̹̺̣̟̥̖͙̝̤̱͉̟̠̜̮̟͍̻̞̗̫̞͓̝͇̞̐̒́̀̎̿̃̀̈́͗͑͆̈́̌͊͐͛̉͊̒͋̆̉̈́͑̂̈́̚̕̚̚͜͜͜͝ͅẹ̵̛̪̪̪̣͖̥͍̖̙̱̠̬͈̝̞̜̙̥̮̹̹̯̦͉̖̱̭̯̙̆̓̀̽̔̂̿͊̈́̒̂̋̐̍̌͋̋̎͆̈́̑̑̑͛̀̔̊̊̑͂̌̀̽̕̚̕̚̚̚͜͠— o̴̬̺̱̲̤̾͗̿̊̈́͗̈͆͆́͛̉͋̔͗̔̏̋̈́̌̍͗̉͂̈́̿͛͋̑̀̂͋̓̀̚̚ṇ̶̨̡̨̡̡̧̝̣̼̺̠̭̜̤̞̪̩̱̣̘̝̪̼͎͈̹͍͔̞̮̩̜̱̪̤̣̩̥̯̫̠̦̤͇͎̙͊̈̆̎́̄̋̈̐̏͛̍̄̊̇̏́̒̐̆͒̓͋͐̆̏̈́͒̈́́̊͐͘̚͜͜͜͝͠ę̴̧͇͓̬͎̫̮̖̦̯̞͇̳̞̦̤̦̬̜͉͍̯̱̜̌͆̑̔̈́̎̆́́͑͆͑̈́͌͘̚̚͝ ̶̡͇̱͔̪̩̤̣̪̜̹̙̝͖͓̺̳̠̔̑͊̉̀̽͂̆͂̆͑̽̊̆͗̅̇̿͋͂̕͝͠͝ẹ̵̡̩͉̻̳̭͉̝͙̭͙̱͉͖͕͔̱̺̤̜̺͇̯̞̻̰͌̀̑̇͘͠a̵̡̡̨̛̛͍̱͔͖̗̟͈͈͕̹̗͔̦̳͉͍̮͇̻̞͓͖̮͎̟̠̦̯̮͇̖̥̖̻̤͉̠̠̩̦͖̯̋̃̂͗̅̽̔̈̍̃̋̂̏̑̈́͋͛͌̏̕̚͘͜͜͜ͅc̸̛̬̜̱͔̤̯̟̣̹̦̥̦̫̆̌͛̈́̏́̓̈̇̽̓̈̑̍̑͌̉̋̾̎̾̚͠͝ͅͅh̵̨̠̤̣̹̀̎͜ ̶̫̦̻̠͈͔̰͚͇̲̫̪̦̞̮͈͚̘̺̜̥̱̽͑͒͋̒́͊͝͠ͅͅe̶̡̢̡̧̢̢̘̬͚̟̱͉̮̫̲͈̝̻̲͓̺̠͖̮̣̪̤̣̫̳̻̟̦͓̣͍͕̞͕͊̒͛̐́ͅṇ̵̞̀̐̔̏͊͐̏͐̉͌͛̓̎͝d̸̢̧̢̡̜͉͍͉͎͚͕͈̹̜̗̬̦̻̣̮̤̰͉͔̪͉̳̲͎̣̻̫̲̤͈͎̰̻͒̉͊̽͑͜͜͝ ̴̧̹̘͚̖̬̼͚̗̗̺̳͈͎̣͉̜̪͔͚̪͔̟͕̩̠͍͖̙̮̀̑̀͒͒͒͛͛́͋̑͐̎͊̋̓̄̇͒̂̊̊̀̀͋̈́͂̆̍̉̉̈́̑̓͛̂̈́̕̚̕͜͜͠͠͠͠͝&̴̻̯͕̹̟̳̙̮̙̮̽̆ ̵̧̨̖̬̟͎͍͔̤̲̼̩̺̬̯̩̤̖̥̩̲̣̮̘̫̦̹̙̬̟̦̩̘̣̫͎̭̦͉̦̟̗̭̾̈́́̀̇̃̒̂̋̔͒̕̚͘͜ͅͅͅṣ̵̨̧̢̖̙̞̙̙̘̫͇͈̠̺̙͉̠͔̠̰̮̝̗̘̠̣̤̖̗͕̜̰̼̝̭́̋̓̊̑͊͐͗̿̄́̃̒̒̓͒̂̂͆͊̐̀́͑̇͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅt̸̢̢̯̘̞̙͕̥̪̬͇͇͉͖̜͈͉͖̗̗̻̬̳̺̟̰̙̠͈͐̋̔͗̉̄̐͠͝ͅȩ̸̨̢̢͉͕̳̙̰̳̞͇̳̘̤̻̺̫̀̆̓̑͐̑͆͘ą̸̛͍̬͚̜̥͔͈̟̻̞̫̝̦͇̺͕̖̦̬̗̒̉̔̔̅͊́̒̆́͗͛̑̕d̴̢̛͖͚̪̲͇̤̼̟͖͕̰̭̺̲̻̝̣̗̣̞͕͔͕̩͖͖̹̭̥̟̗͖̦̱̙̾̈̔͊̍̄̀̽̈̏̈̈̍̉̑̓̒̐̐̈̈́̈́̓͒̈̑͐̿̓̈́͐̈́͛̅͒͑͆̚͜͜͝y̵̢̮͖͙͔̘̘̠̭̐̑̋̃̀̈̆̎̃̿͒̾̀́̅́̓͌̐͛̀̃̃̈̇̽̈́̓̈́̈́̑̀̂̿͐̕͝ ̴̡̨̢̛͓̲̣͙̪̫͙̺̜͚͖̦̼̜̳̟̟͖̫̟̰̬͖̲̘̱͉̭͕͔̹͍̤̙̱͍̗̳͈͍̆͌̏̆̃̃͑̓̈̿̔͆̕͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅà̷̡̢̼̪͉͕̺̜̗̹̤̩̫̤̳̣͉͖͇͖̺̭͈̓̅͊͋̋̄͂̒̎̆́̈́̀͊͂̎̈́́̍͆͌͌̀̃͗̿̾̕̚͜͝͝͝s̵̢̜̻̻̻̲̪͙͎͍̭̤͓͙̦̠̣̘̜̠̭͇̞̥̩̪̘͇̦̘͙͇̗̯̳̼̖͉̍̌͊̈̇̉͜͜ ̷̛͎͕̣̻̘̦̙̞̙̗͕̣̺͓̤̪͖̩̫̖͆̿͌̽͆̿̏͗̆̔̊͊́̅̽̂͊̀͌́̈́͗̓̾̀͛̅͌̈́̄͋̐̿͌̋͌̽̆̽̊̕̚̕͘͜͝͝͝ͅw̵̛̛̥̼̭̞̦̲̩̝̖͓̲̬͙̦̺̯̥̟͆̄̿̐̿̾͑͆̈́̋͋̀̐͗̀́̊̏̒̂̆̄͋́̏̓̑̊̿̈́̀̾̐̓́̔̈͛̃̀̒̇͘̚͠͠͠͝͠ͅé̷̢͎̥̫̳̦͕̪͎̮͛͛̉́̂̍̆̓̎͊̏̈́͂͋̉͊̉͆̀̓͌̐͂̀͐̏̑̅̃̾͐̏̐͊̓͗̑͗̋͑̅͂̚̚̕͜͠͝͝͝͝ ̴̛̛͈̬̮̘̟̟͍̖̞̦̜̤̲͇͓̉̈́̌̑̂̀̾́̍́̚͘͝͝ģ̷̨̛̙͇̞̦̱͙̼͉͎̝̼̼͔̬̠͎͐̈́̄̎̔̃̂̆͋̊̌̏́͗͑͊̇ǭ̵̛̘̫̙͎̼̼̜̭͖̰̘̟̬̺͇͕̹̩͈̗̖̘̫̭̥̻͎̯̞̗͉͇͕̓̀̄͊̈́͋̈͐̒͌̀̐̿̌̄̀̏̎͐̅̿̊̐̿̔̈̈̆̔͌̈́̋͊̈̈́̓̅̃͆̅̒̒̀̈́̽́́͜͜ she was d̷̬̣͕̦̰̜̮͐̈́͌́̀̓̐̕͜yį̷̨͎̟̮̥̲̫̬̘̻̹̙̟̟̹̣̞̘̻̱͎̯̲͙̭͖͎̩͈̠͍̰̬͉͚̙̱͖̮̳̪̥̞̃̎̇̽́̌͐̍̇͊͛͗̽͌̿̾͒͊̔̆͋̓͐͘̚ͅͅͅng— ş̵̡̡̛̱̙̳͇͇̥̭̖͎̺̐̓̀͂͐̐́̇͋͗̈̇͌̓̅̋̚͘͝hĕ̵̡̢̛͖͇̥̻̖͙͔̒̂̒̈́͐͐͒̃͗̒̌̉̑͆̍̍̕ ̶̢̛͉̲̻̠͒̾̈́̓̀̍̔̆̈̔̑͆͠wȧ̴̪͚̲̜͍̜̲̻͂̒̾̊͆̇͐͛̈́̃̀̆̏́̈́͗̅̋͗̽͛̔̄̏͒͗̌̉̕̚͝͠ş̵̡̨̲̻̩̰͇͙̘̱͎̠̪̑́͐͋̊͌̔͋̐̈́̽͑͊̆͘ ̴̨̛̛̱̦͈̼̮̖͈͚̭̞̲̮̭͖̼̮̝͚̙̮̠̝̝̺̻̙̤̋͗̽́͐̓̒̀̓͊̕͜ͅg̴̢̢̦̝̭̩̖̠̘̘̦̠̖̫̼͓̞̼͕̫͙͈̻̤̲͚̫̬̹͒̈́͗͆̈́̾͆̽̇̍̅̏͑̑͗ͅͅoinǵ̶͙̙̪̳̳ͅͅ ̵̧̧̜̩̻͓͖̦̖̞̰̰̦̪̳͖̣̃̍ͅm̶̧̛̛̛̥̤͍̤̞̝̓̄͆̔͐̅̾̏͋̾̌̈́̑̄̌̃̂̒̚ͅa̵͉͎͚̟͙̣̯̜͎̺͍͍̲̮͒̎̄͊̎͐̌̓̊̀̉̔̔͆̆̂̊̈́̄́̋͘͜͜͠͠ͅͅd— she was d̶̩̲̤̼̯̺̮͔̙͖̲̭̩̫̅̅͛̃̊̉̈̔͋̽͆͝ͅy̸̨̡̢̧̛̪̝̗̻̩̻̖͎̻̹̜̯̹̭͚̘͈̦̳̪͕͙̪͖͚̣̗͍̪̥̦̩̪̩̰͔͙̗̹̤͖͔͚͙̹̭͇̟͚̯͚̺̭̥̣̝͈͉̹͙̮̯̯̪͓̘̤͗̂̋̍͗̈́͑̀̈́̉̎̒̓̈́̑̎͌͊̀̄̀͐͑͂̋̃̆̎͒̉͊̉͋̇̉̔̇͗͛͐̑̅͒̇̔̾̐̅̎̏͊͊̏̆̈̽͛̈͋͘͘̕͠͝ͅȉ̵̧̡̨̨̛̱͙̥̫̜̦̭̰͉̟͕̲̗̺͙̯̳̝̹͇̮̭̦̹̞̭̝̦̱͈̈̿̄̎̃̔́͐̃͊̍̐̃͗̋͑̾͑̒̂̀̈́̆͐̈́́̚͜͝͠ň̴̢̨̛͓̠̙̯͈̮̳͙̭͙̲̬͚͉̳̪͇͕̤͇̳͍̞̠̮̉̈̊͒̀̈́́̉̈́́͑̈̐̾̃͆̂͒͑́͒̓̋͆͌͋̀̔̀̾̋̀̿̋͆́̾͆́̍̋̚̚͘͝g̴̛͈̞̘̟̭̱͍̤̝̘͕̬̻͓̈́̽͋́̽̍̏̑͂͐̏͋͂̈̅̈́̄̋̓͆̿̆͑̐͊͋̑̃͌̂͂̐̂̒͛̈̔̍̚͘͘͘͠͠— she was a̶̢̨̨̛̛̻̖͔̲̳̩͚̺͓͔͙̙͚͕̣̫͕͂́̏̋̔͒̈́̿̂̎͌̃̂̉̓̉̿͋̊͌͐͗̄͆͒͌̇͋͑̑̈́̉͋͆̿͋͋̽̏̃͑̇͋̃͂͑̅͌̒̊́͐̽͐̇͑̈́̆̅̈̔̆́̄͗͌̑̓̓̐̇̽͒͋́̄͌̾̐͆̿́̿̐̾̒̅̎͂̎̔̑̓̀́̈́͛̓̈́̓̀͗̅̈́̕̚̚͘͠͠͠͠͝͠͝͝lre̷̡̢̧̨̨̡̛̛̛͇̹͚̬̯̙̫͎̖̟̝͕̳͈̞͍͎͍̫̫̣͔͖̰̩̖͎̩̳̠̝̜͎̮̲̤͕͖͈̻̳͚̜͓̮͙̤̤̖͎̱̝͙̼̳̻̰̼̙̓̈́̓̀́̃̋̽͂̈́͗͛̈́̑̉͂̽̓́̽̋͐̈̏̾̅̓̈́͊͊̋̑̓͆̀̾̓̓͂̿̌͑̓̑̐̃͗̓̌̾̐̋̊̀̋͆͗̆̉̋̍̊̈̈́̎̾͐͂̓̇̋̍̆͊̑́̎̅̆̿̈́̉̂̀̔̐̉̑̐͘̕̚͘̚̕͜͜͜͝͠͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝ͅą̸̨̨̢̡̢̡̨̢̢̛̛̛̛̻̣͎̬̗̻͈͈͔̦͙̦̞̤̝̠̯̹͔̘̗̰̟̣̮̝͈̺̼̝̹͇̟̗͉̭̯̥̱̗̤͓͕͖͇͈̗̲̪͕̖͇̬͎͓͔̰͎̞͖̯̮̰̦̲̠͉͖̞̱̣͓͈̬̙͈̇̊̑͐͊̇͂̽̌̀̀̉͊̈͊̑̍̂̀͋̽̒̅̍̄̉́̔̒̌̊̓̄̾͋̏̅̃̊͊͋͂̍́͑͛͒̾͗̈́̏͌̈̎̀̂̐̅͐̄̿̈́̈́͒̒̎͌̄͗̆́͊̂̓͛̊̀͊̓̌̓̇͑͂̀͊̈́͘̚͜͜͠͝͝͝͠ͅdẙ̶̧̧̨̢̧̢̛̛̖͙̙̘̙̥͖̝̜̯̭͎̼͉̟̦͇̤̥̖͔͍̮͚̳͎͕͇͎̟̼͖̭͖̥̦͙̞͉̩̬̥͙͚̤̹͔̺͕̮̬̦̺̤͎̥͍̬͖̘̻̦̥̦͍̱̙̼̺̼̜̗͈͓̤̼̱̥̦͙͎͈͚̝̯̳͓̥̩͙̥̓̀͐̌͑̈́͑͒̆̂̈͂̑̾̍́͐̉̎͆͊͆̊̂̍̓͆̑͊͛͂͒̽̏̈́̿͛̓͆̄͛̌̈́͐͋͛̐̃̃́̈́̅̍̈̄̆̐̾̏̍̇̎̈͋͛̏̃́͊̋̂̉̾̉̽̾̍̏̽́̓͌̀̂̑̇̽̆̐̆͐́͒͐͗͂́̈̒̉̄̅̆̕͘̕̚̚͘̕͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅ dea̸̡̨̛̛̦͚̝̤͉͗̏̄̽̎̋͐͑̑̋̓̒̐̐͛̽̌̄̆̇͋́͊̈̓̓͗̾̉̆̉̈̈́̈̐͒͐͛̏͋͆̔̑̄̂̉̉͆̑͊͂̓̂̊̍͐̀̍̄̽̾̌̾̌̒̔́̊̌̇̏͊͒͛̈́̈́̋̇̽͐̓͑̒̈́̀̽̽̏͆̿͘̚͘̕̕͘͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠d̴̨̡̧̡̢̢̨̼͕͇̫̺͖̲̯͇̯͚̜̹̹͕̠̦͎̪̘̯͓͉̫̦͕͖̪͖̘̩͉͈̝̮̝͉̺̠̜̟̦̳̞̣͇̖̪̠̮̦̯͔̭̬͖̓́̈́̂̇̅̄̒̆̐̓̉̍̓͂̂̇̈́̿̄͆̆̌͆͌̋̽̓̎̓͛̀̽͋̈́̊̈̀̉͊͗͑̏͘͘̚͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͝ͅ— s̷̢̡̡̧̢̨̢̛̛͚̬͉̦̩̫̤̬̜̻͈͎̹̻̥͙̠͇̖̣̟̜͓̥̦̜̥͎̤̭̦̼͇̬̠͔̗͎̯̮͉̪̯͚͓͈̯̟̳͍͕͔̖̲̳͕̺̲̒͒͆̎̓̌̾̽̋́̓̀̌̈́̏̒̇̊̍͛̑̔͌̌̂̄̈͛̆͛̐͐̇̿̒̎̐̐̅̆͋̔̇̓̍̚̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅḩ̶̡̡̡̛̛͔̹̺̞͕͈͇̙̲͙̲̖̥̳͍͔͍̩͚̤̰͎̜̭͙̱͇̺̱̣͉̇̄͑͊́̑̈́̊̇̎͛́̓̄͋̃͒́̔̿̒͆͗̌͛̔̀̔̽́͌̑͊̒̀͊̈͑̂͗̽̈́͒̔̑̋̐̒̌̓̿̕͘̕͘͜͠͝͝͝͠͝e ̶̡̢̢̨̧̨̧̛̛̛̲̮̰̱̯̺͈̘̥̻̙͇͕͙̝̭̩̭̬̪͕̭͙̺̯͍̺̦̬͖̭͉̜̪̜̭̮̘̠̥͓͇̱̹̲͉̜̜͈̲͔͒̀̃͆́̔͆͊̊̂͗̉̽̔̒̈̀̏͛͌͌͌͗͋̈́͛͋́͛̄͗̾̄̌̑̄̌͐̈́͒͐̇͂̕̚̕͝͝͝ͅͅw̶̛̞̯͇͚̘̪̣̒̂͒͒̋͊͊̈́͒͋̃̌͋̐̇̄̒̉̏̌̔̍̿͊̀͊̂́̐̏̍̒̈̓̋̅͐̊͊́̓̍̐̕̚̚͘͘̕͝͝͠ͅouḷ̶̡̡̧̧̛͙͈̠̞̫͖̰̯̟̝̜͔̣͎̠͉̙̤͎̞̥̫̻̤̼͇̱̪̜̙̲̱̳͇̦͓̣͐̒̇̓̿͆͒͐̄̏́̒̈́̆͊̅̌͆̀̑̓̄͑̔̅̎̒̏͒͂̐̄̌́̂̽̉̓͐͛̔̌̂̇̐̒́͋̿́͛̓̑͘͝͝͠ḑ̷̨̢̛̛̛̺̲̲̣͉̲̪̤̗̠̤̞̬̫̺̠̘̥̲̳̠̥̤͕͉͈̤͓̎̐͂̀́͋̅̓͗͑̃̏̽͛̈́̄̔̈́͂̄̌́͋̆̉̈́̂̇̀̎̅̿̎̃́͑͗̈́̈́͒͋̋̄̈̈́͛̈́̃͒̆͂̈́̍̌́̈́̓̌͘̚͠͝͠͠͠͠͝ ̸̧̢̡̧̢̧̧̢̡̡̛̛̛̟̳̮̗̝̬͉̖͖͓̖̝̖͉͓͉̪̟̟̺̹̫̞̫̘̖͓̖̫̼̼̙̠̺̤̻͍͕̝̳̩̻̝̯̰̪̝̣͕̯̥̱̹͕̝̝̗̲̯͕̻͉͓̥̳̥̥͍̟̬̲̬͓̖̹̞̻̫̹̖̭̰̩̺̤̫͓̤̳̗̿̾͐̃̍̋͐͒͒̏̓̐͋̓̀̌̃͑͆́̓̿̂̈́̆̈́̌̀͐̓̍̅̃̾̽͊̃̌͑̀̊̿̓̈́̉̐̎̽͐͌̍́̐͒͋͗̎͒̀̈́̎͑̀͌̎̂̈̾̿́̒̓͒̀̈́́̃͛̍̾͆̀̕̚̕̚͘̚̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝ͅdie— w̶̨̮̙͍̘̱̺̲͖̾a̸̡̢̻̟̦̦̤̣̝̱̱̯̩̫̖͖͉̳̪̦͂̈́̍͋͛͌́̅͘͜s̷̠̜̟̣̠̖̣͚͈̗̺̙͎̼͔͕̮͙̝̈́͜ͅ ̶̩̣̰̭͖͗̃̂̉̉̂̆̍͛͗̀̄̑̈́̑̒̎͑͒̚̚͠͠͠͝h̴̢̧͍̩̦̳̩̬͍̭͇͙̟̳̗͚̰͑̀̋̆̈́̌͗̓̓̔̑͂̾͆̍̍́͝͝ͅȇ̵̮̖̰͕̩̘͖̟̾̀͆̉̽͜ ̵͖̝̆̈́̆̉́į̴̠̯̤̬̗͕̆́n̷̗̬͕̖̘̟̉̍͑͋̽̈́̊̇̊͆ͅ ̸̨͕̩̬̼̥̲̻͓̦̈́t̸̛̛̛̖̣̫̝̼̣͚̹͂́́̀͛͊̀̾̆͐͐̈̾̚͠͝͠r̷̨̨̢̛̳̹̟͈̳͕̥͎̗̗͚̹͍̖̦̻͎̥̽͂̂̈́̿́͜͝ở̸̥̥̤̘͈̘̲̹̜͌̽̎̍̔̀́̄̉͆̊̑̍͊̓̆̈́͝͝͠ͅữ̵̤̩̟͖̀͗͆̌͑̈́̀̋̃̅̕͝b̴̨̢̨̬͇̘̖͐͒̆̇̋̉͑̈́̍͊̏̆̀̌́̏́͛̂͑͌̇͛͘̕l̷̨̨̡͔͕̼͇̦͉̠̥̼̠̩̼͆̾̈́͛̾̎͗͐̈́̓̀̓̏͝e̵̡̨̱͉̠̤̥͕̬̅̓ͅ ̷̬̯͎̫̼̝͗̔̊̆̾̒͐̔̃́̅̃͌̽͑h̷̢̥̜̬̹͇̮̫̫̹̠͚͉̋̈́͋̀̀̓̀̈́̃̑́͘͜͜͝ȧ̴̦͈̹͕̗͔̳̭̯͚͜l̶̲̠͖̣̺̜̙̯͇̲̼̘̲̓̾̂̽̔̈́̃̚f̴̢͔̳̥͕͙͙̥͖̜͖̺̲̬̞̹͉̲̳̠̪͐͌̉͂̉̓̌̀̀̅̓́͒͊̈́̐̈́̔̕͘͝͝͝ͅ ̶̢̡̘͙͎̱̗͉̬̯͎̬̳͙̬͉̤̺̘̠͛̓͜ͅa̷̢̫̳̹͉̗̲̲͉̘̰̼͖̻͙̯̠͚͓̍̓͂̈̀͗͛̋͂͝͠ ̴̡̡̢̧͉͓̜͚̯̠̪̻͙̤͇͚̰̼̻̞͇̇̈̂͜͜t̴̡̧̝̣͚̫͎̼̭͈̽̂̇͑̃͛́͒̆̆̀͐͠͠͝ͅô̸̧̳̝̺͉̠̙̝̩͔͙̲̰̼̫͎̞̖̓͆̉͋̾͛͗̽̐̿͛͊̔͛̔͊͗͘̕͝͝n̴̡̟͖̰̜̯̮͇̈́͗̉̎͑ ̷̢̡͚͙̻̱̬̮͉̥̺̑́̇̈́͒̋̓͌̑̈́̒̂̄̽̕̕ǫ̶̫̽̎͘͜f̴̛̮̭̻̞͋̌̒̄̈́̉̈́́̓̄ ̸̢̦̟̗̣̜͙̰̻̬̙͙̮̲̲̘̫͎͎̙͕̩̪̒̀͑̈̀̃̀̓͆̏͠ͅͅr̴̛̗̯͋̍͊̉̃̄̃͊̾̓͜ű̷̙͉͈͓̲̤̠b̶̧̨̻̦̫͙̺̱͉̣̜̈́̒̅̈́͒̌̒͊̓̓̾̊̐̒͒̐̏̔̅̕̚̚͝͝b̶̖͍͇͙̲̮̮̘̹̲͚̫̱͕̜̰̏̃͘ͅl̷̡͕͖͐̌̏̾̾̈́̽̄͗̉͋̌̽̃̐͊͝ḙ̶̡̭̯̭̫͙͔͇̝͉̮̘͎̞͔̻̯̯͇͇͔̮̙̹̌̇̅̒͊͑̓͋͛̂̍́́̈́͝ She screamed, long and loud enough to shake the walls.