Greetings once again, my dubious readers. Bonus Almoons content got the most votes, so here is a poem that Ref wrote about the world in which Almoons takes place. (She prefers to refer to it as a, and I quote, "poetic thing, idk".) We hope you enjoy it, and a second Google Form for the next chapter will be posted shortly. Yours cordially (or at least semi-politely),

Google Form Dood

In a painted world of moons and memories, most creatures started off with a clear-cut role.

Angui. Maxis. Fabri. Ranae. Caeli.

They were sharp colors, bold, and they were quite individual. They did not blur; they stayed among themselves and thought all was fine.

And then they did blur, and the new colors they formed were scorned and hated. A watercolor of creatures peppered the painted world, and it was beautiful, and it was strange.

And men came, and they talked their way into the painting. They vandalized the world with stabbing lines that did not fit, and they forced the light, watery colors to fade away.

And they stood tall and victorious, and they wore their fan hats and cage skirts with pride. They ignored the color that blended into the background, and they slashed the painting with more harsh, bleeding lines of their own.

The painting is different, now, than it was before. Darker, and even if they're scrubbed away those lines will leave marks. An onlooker might sigh in airy dismay and remark to themself how it really is a shame that such a lovely picture was ruined.

And then they will move on, and go about their day.

But the painting is still here.