Chương 272: Cycle 49 (9)

Dear Diary,

Kimi won the marble race, so next cycle we’ll all be red half-dragons. That’ll be fun. I’ve always kinda wanted to try fire magic, but not enough to change from green to red. Burning our way through the dungeon will be epic. 

The players got here early this morning, super early. They must have spent the night in the campsite on the staircase between Floors 92 and 93, which is odd to me. I mean, the camps are comfy enough, but I think the inn is way the heck better. And not just because my boyfriend runs it. 

But I’m not in charge of them, they can sleep wherever they want. I guess. 

Anyways, I think they’ll have pushed the button by noon tomorrow. There are six people in their party, so they can reset the cycle all on their own. 

One of the players wanted to wander around and find the shortcut, but the rest of the group said that was a waste of time. I don’t think it’s a waste of time. I mean, it’s one floor to go through instead of seven. It saves so much time! So what if they waste an hour or two looking for it? Besides, it’ll come in handy next cycle. 

Oh! The poetry thing! It was super boring. I mean, some poems were interesting. And a couple were funny. But most were the same, slightly pretentious, think-they’re-deep, thesaurus overusing poems. 

If someone had asked me to vote for my favorite, I would have voted for Mika’s poem. (Sorry, Avi.) She kinda sang hers, and it was about how awesome the dire wolves are. You can’t beat someone singing about floofs. 

Avi’s poem was about rivers. It was good, I guess. I mean, it was a poem about rivers. All the rhymings rhymed, and the syllables were right?

Aya read six haikus. They didn’t rhyme at all, but the syllables were correct and they stayed on theme. People nodded thoughtfully when she was done, so I guess they went over well with the poetry crowd. 

Gin read a poem. It was called Ode to Potatoes. I probably would have given it second place. (Sorry, Avi!)

I think I liked Mika and Gin’s poems because they weren’t trying to use metaphors or anything. Fluffy wolves represented fluffy wolves, and potatoes were potatoes. There’s nothing more real than a potato. 

If you write a poem about a yellow bird, but the bird is supposed to be something else, aren’t you kinda lying? Seems kinda nefarious to me if you write about waterfalls but they’re secretly something else. You said you wrote about a sidewalk, but now you say it’s really about the looming inevitability of death? I feel betrayed. 

Anyways, I should just stay away from poetry in case I accidentally offend someone by thinking a geode represents a geode. 

Goodnight, Dungeon!

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