"First off, I’m not a psychopomp. I’m an escort.
I do work with psychopomps, the spirits or gods or sometimes even just people who help souls travel from wherever it is they died to wherever it is they’re going. It doesn’t always occur to people that if there’s traveling to be done, then whether you’re guiding or being guided, you gotta be doing it along a route.
The Liminal City, Mare Solatium, is along the route.
Not a destination. This isn’t an afterlife, those are further along, at the end of the route. I don't know anything about that. The Liminal City is something like those towns you find on an off-ramp, that’re nothing but a gas station, a motel, a bar, and a handful of fast food places. Maybe one of those silly “world’s largest roll of toilet paper” tourist traps. You don’t come here to stay here, you come here to pass through.
It takes some of us longer than others.
‘So it’s a purgatory?’ is what you’re gonna ask next. Nope. A purgatory is for getting rid of things. You go to a purgatory because you did things you shouldn’t have done. This place is the opposite. This is for getting to do things you should’ve, but never got the chance. Don’t think that kind of place has a name, among the living. I sure never heard of them.
There’s all sorts of things, of course. Food for the starved. Home for the outcast. Rest for the weary. A garden for the gardener who lived all their life in a slum. A studio for the artist who never got a chance. And me. I work in the The Waxing Lighthouse, catering to men who never got that chance to come out and be who they were, love as they chose.
It's good work, I'm proud of it. And I love my clients.
But eventually they always have to move on."