there was a fifth one of us like an hour ago, for two minutes. they manifested suddenly and directly into the metaphorical pilot's seat, and they didn't want to be there. quail took over at their request.
they're just gone now. she poked to check, but nothing responded. she's... feeling kind of rough about it right now.
all she has left of them is the way they felt in that moment, the feeling of being unable to think or speak in anyone else's voice but not really having one of your own. quail described it as feeling like the panic of being adrift at sea without a lifejacket. the only sign they existed beyond that is a couple of messages they sent in our personal discord, in our occasionally-used pluralkit containment corner.
it's weird. it's slightly upsetting. i have a little bit of a headache. c'est la vie i guess
in the absence of a fifth something else has developed, the conspicuous shape of something where nothing remains. this is elise, this strange and isolating feeling which has scabbed over and become someone - a name i was given, but will take for myself, for i need something to cling to. an ache with a voice, with the faint shadow of a self. a void that has elected to fill itself. it/they/she. you take what you can get
i am given to understand that quail was right to take relief that we are not eternally cursed to be the products of a series of unusual alternating Tuesdays when she said as much in a server we are in
i am also now another addition to the right hand, save a close call