Username: anemosagkelos
Prompt response: The planet is collapsing in on itself and you have to get off of it. But where do you go?
The countdown had been the near only constant besides despair as the world's end came. He'd been watching his family as the reality set in and knew that there was no longer any avoiding the topic at hand, not with the information in his pocket. And now that the course for reversal had past and failed."Thank you all for coming," he opened, as he looked at his children and grandchildren that had assembled in the village's meeting hall. They had outgrown his humble abode and this was a conversation that was best held in private. One that had no right or wrong answer, one that no one might agree on. As the tribe elders, though, it was up to his partners and himself to begin the discussion.
"I know that these times are difficult and frightening. I know that it is hard to come to terms with the fact that this planet is collapsing and dying, but there are decisions that we must make," he fixed his gaze on each face staring back at him, one by one, before removing the letter from his belt pouch. "There are three ships, the last of them, that are coming for those who wish to leave. Only one ship is allotted to our tribe and," he closed his eyes briefly, "it cannot take us all, neither our family or our tribe." And that was the quandary, the flaw.
Silence reigned, as he opened his eyes to find stares of disbelief and pain and sorrow intermingled with determination and resignation. All the emotions played out before him and he did not know what the answers were now. If he had ever known any answer, they all paled in comparison to this. His partners and him had discussed it for hours, but there was just no room for a whole village on one ship and theirs was not the only village left either.
"It is my intent today, to allow you all to speak and discuss our next steps. I would like to hear from each of you on whether you would like to stay or leave. There is no right or wrong decision, no judgment. Who would like to start?" he opened his arms to those assembled and then took a seat between his partners.
Since birth, he had felt the world with his hands. From the skin of his own face to the static white paint that had coated his first apartment, he had found that the world could be sterile and cold or warm and full of character. The blood, the sweat, the tears, it all seeped into the wood or the clay and imbued it with a history that technology continued to scrub clean as skyscrapers rose into the sky and filled humanity with a false sense of superiority. He'd taken two semesters in college, clenched within the enforced death stare at e-books, and then retreated into the woods, the mountains, and the valleys that remained untouched.
Link shoved his hands into his pockets as irritation mounted, causing his shoulders to slump forward. The dry, baritone chuckle beside him rankled. 
This was, all things considered, perhaps not the worst situation Somer had been in before. Sure, she couldn't see, blindfolded as she was, hands tied behind her back. But she wasn't knocked out, still had a range of motion in her hands, and could still hear what was going on around her, so all in all it would be an easy fix.
Skip stared at the plush lizard sitting in the middle of his room.
Dusk shook his hair back, taking a moment to rake his hair up into a messy bun. It was nice, grown out, but also a bit of a hassle when he needed to keep it out of his eyes. Still, he was going to keep it long - it was nice when his kids braided it, and that far outweighed the hassle. 
