[b][h1][center][color=4286f4][i]Arthur Stanford[/i][/color][/center][/h1]
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[center][color=4286f4]Location:[/color]Big House
Skills: N/A[/center] 
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        This was the end and Arthur knew it. His hand was resting lightly in Andy's, and he, somehow, didn't feel like he was on the verge of a breakdown. There was a quiet sadness in him; an acknowledgement that this was about to happen, and was inevitable. He found himself memorizing the details of the feeling of their hands locked together, a token he did with the understanding that it would not be a feeling that he'd get for a very long time afterwards. He silently prayed to homemade that he'd be able to remember everything about her so well that it would almost seem like they were still together, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. 

         Looking at his future group mates, Arthur made himself smile. He had to hope that they'd enjoy themselves together, or at least whatever was the most reasonable analogue of that for children being sent on a death mission to serve the needs and wants of at best uncaring gods. They were nice enough people, Arthur thought, and they wouldn't be totally screwed between the group members, but he still kept his hand in Andy's, a pit in his stomach as they neared separation.