Hi everyone!

[It's time for a Ginger post. This time, though, it's not in regards to any kind of game. Honestly, she might not be hosting those again anytime soon. That's what happens when people decide to be spoilsports. She's still approaching this with an upbeat demeanor, but her cheer is definitely toned down. This is a serious and important subject that she'd like to address the community with!]

So, like, after the seance the other night, I've been taking a lot of time to think about who we talked to. I realized that so many of those people never got any proper kind of memorial for what they went through. And, well, I know that we've all been doing the best that we can to pay our respects with what little knowledge we have, but I thought, like, after all that help that we got, they deserve some kind of thank you.

[She hesitates, pulling out her sketchbook and opening it to an empty page--she's running out of those, but it is what it is.]

I'm sure they know how much we appreciate everything they do, and that they might not have any way to see or speak with them again, but I wanted to write a note for them and leave it...somewhere important. Like, at one of the grave sites, maybe. I can't get there right away, so I thought in the mean time, especially while I think over what I want to say, some of you might like to add some words of your own? I'll add it to my note with your name attached--or, if you want to remain anonymous, like, that's totally fine and just send me something privately!

[With a deep breath, Ginger flashes a small smile.]

That's all for now! Thank you!

[Death wasn't like going to sleep at all, but waking from death isn't so different to awakening from a long journey in the night, everything changed and wrong, one's body and mind protesting against being asked to function once more in the waking world.

Tess looks rattled when she appears on the network, petting the oversize feathered serpent in her lap more for her own comfort than for his, some glimpses of him visible at the lower edge of the image. There's some excuse to be had in already having let him show on the network, in already having invented a cover story for his existence, but in truth she just can't find it in herself to care enough about the charade at this moment to do anything about it. She still doesn't know what "price" she's paid for her death -- because she is sure, now, that it was death -- but she's already seeking that same reassurance that others are still out there that she had on the night she'd died.

She opens her mouth to speak, but what comes out is in an archaic form of the Nahuatl language. Tess doesn't seem to notice anything odd about this, and the words flow smoothly, like from the mouth of a native speaker.]

Uh...my greetings. I live once more. I....

[She trails off for a moment, looking troubled.]

For how long have I been dead?