GRAND TWEET V: it's over!

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"Was that a bullet? It felt like a tickle!
With a lift and a dive, a spin and a whirl
I'll show these birds moves that make feathers curl"

"A formidable, climb, lay ahead
but it still, beat, fighting undead

Now Jimmy, Reg, look out below!
Or at least veer to dodge that crow!"

"Ahaha, these hawkops can try
But a drone on its own is the lord of the sky"

"My windshield's broken, but that won't mean a thing
When it comes to high speed Reginald is the king"
And so they dove, wind coming in fast

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Chorus: Catarath leaps, a flaming blast!
Hawkops scatter, daunted at last!
Reg in freefall, Jimmy aghast!

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Grand Tweet V will conclude on April 15th, 3pm PST/April 16th, Midnight CEST/7am JST.

Why the fuck do we live in so many different time zones.

‪"At long latht. Two lotht thouls on Memory Lane!"‬

‪The Lane's far-off ends marked those of the duo's; the shades flanking it, folk of import.‬

"Wow, you know, I don't remember having lost this many pilots. Though I guess it's none too surprising, now that I think about."

Catarath drops unceremoniously into a most ceremonious occasion, dressed in apprentice robes long since discarded.

"What?"

"Well, there's Jimmy - hey Jimmy! We all liked Jimmy. There's Don Randal, what a troublemaker. And then that's - uh, don't remember."

High Grave-Sanctifier steps up, consecrational tools in hand.

"Swear you, by Bahamut's Unholy Flame, to uphold your vows?"

"Hey, you're supposed to bury folks, right? Why don't you bury Jimmy here first?"
"Don't you dare!"

Catarath stunned, off-guard, ashamed.

"Vow? What vow? I'm dead in a pile of mech!"

Failures to bury keep piling up, the dreaded corpse-pile.

Catarath sinks into robes, shovel up, eyes shut tight.

"Well, you know, we said we'd bury you and all before being jaunted to and fro and all that."
"Do I look like I need burial?"
"A little?"

"I'm here to haunt you!"
"You're doing a great job!"

Enough. Catarath will make logistics clear.

"I CANNOT BURY SHADES, JACKASS!"

"Good point. Anyways, I've already got all these guys in my memory banks. Let's check out your dark and mysterious past."

Massive draconic presence looms, High Grave-Sanctifier fades, banished by emanating power.

A claw curls inward, beckoning Catarth towards an end.

Reginald cruises a short ways down Catarath's side of the road, circling around the draconic figure. "Neat. Who's this guy?"

A crisis of faith, a shovel almost too worn to use.

Catarath will follow, to see where it leads.