#tablecont

Pollux had much to worry about. It was suffering from deep, unhealed wounds. It once was a grand harmonious orchestra of pipes, wires, grears, stone, tile, and glass. It's performers were the scores of people who resided inside, carefuly building, repairing, and caring for their home. But they were gone, and Pollux had fallen out of tune. Tile was cracked, glass was shattered. Gears slipped and pipes burst in sorrowful floods of tears. Castor, it's ever diligent conductor, had brought with her a different sort of poeple. They were dedicated and skilled, but they sang in a different key. They pulled Pollux back from utter disharmony, but it struggled to sing along with their song. Their repairs were urgent, utilitarian, and sometimes inelegant. There was simply too much for them to learn of Pollux for them to truly harmonize in such a short period of time. But Pollux could be patient. It was no longer dying. Castor and the pirates of the Dirge halted the long, painful march towards it's demise the prince had dragged it on. When Castor promised that their citizens would return, it belived her. It would take time before it would be whole again. What was a more immediate concern of Pollux's, however, was for it's precious Cityspeaker. Her ragged appearance betrayed a harrowing tale. One that it heard in wispers and low voices. Gossip and rumors passed among the pirate crew. Worried looks and muttered pleas from her friends. And nightmares that Castor wispered into it's walls in the loneliest hours of the night.