DESCRIPTION
It's been two months since the culls began—young women from across the land making their way to the seaside, their eyes glazed, footsteps undeterred as they approach the captivating waves and continue upon them, stepping atop as if they'd never left the ground. Where they go is anyone's guess, as a fog swiftly engulfs their distancing silhouettes, a ghostly hum calling its victims into the unknown.______________________________________ It's don't-mention-the-accent-o'clock againThis was originally posted as a celebration for reaching 100 patrons! We've come a long way, mateys~Love it? Hate it? Inhumanly indifferent? Yarg~