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[relinquishing]

[It takes him all day to muster himself out of his bed to make this post in the dormitory levels. Had he not been slammed with a message about his new "job", he would have kindly stayed in his room for a day or two just to... he wasn't even sure what the right word was. He didn't need to relax. He needed to detox. His journey home had been short, but he hoped and prayed it was just a dream. Only a dream, please just let it be that. But he'd seen the barren landscape, inhaled the putrid, acidic smell of miasma leaking out of every crack and crevice, seas of purple mud and poison all that remained of his world.

Of course he wanted it to be a dream.

...]

Two questions. Feel free to answer or not.

First: How many of you have been back home? As in: how many have returned to what used to be their home, only to come back? What did you see, and did it... feel real?

[...]

Second: What are we left with if the worlds we all know are really gone? Is it just us, this Tower, countless years and a few grim expectations?

I really am starting to wonder.

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[relinquishing]

[He hums tiredly.]

It sounds like a grand idea, in theory. Just "how" and "when" and "where" are the big questions, aren't they?

[He wasn't pretending to have any more information than anyone else, especially seeing as his own stay in the tower hadn't even spanned two months... or, well, four, if this bizarre and foreign calendar they used around here was to be believed. The notion of escape was easy enough to imagine, but to put it into practice... did anyone even have a glimpse of a plan?

It's a bit depressing. But it's part of why he's asked his questions in the first place.]