Having that specific bent to their dynamic while they're still about the same age would probably do Weird things to Kai.
Like if Lily is ragdolling her 'senpai noticed me' tension with Mao every failed Ego Check then Kai backflopped into a community pool of it and never comes up for air.
Notice that despite Kai calling her mentor, we don't precisely hear that when Lily is around. We don't get much time there to be fair but Lily refers to them as partners, so this may be Kai being Kai again. Lily can't catch a break.
As one last note, unimaginably hysterical that this takes it as given Argalia would consent to being Lily's uncle; he hates Roland and never accepted him as a brother-in-law but the moment he takes in a kid he's 'oh Angelica's daughter (literally never met while alive)', you go you funny music man you.
The first and most horrible one is that Argalia is being manipulative again. He talked about keeping Lily away from the Library but that dialogue at the end about the "Shitty Uncle" is almost definitely Argalia. I think he helped send Lily to the Library so that either that she kill her father or Roland would be forced to kill his daughter on top of the soon-to-be-revealed Angelica puppet. He is a bloody mad man after the Pianist and I would not put it past him.
The second and a bit more heartwarming thought is that Argalia would actually mean it when he says Lily is his niece because both that she is not Roland and it would annoy Roland so much. The two do have a history of sharing people they care about while hating each other's guts.
Also, like hell Roland would want Argalia around Lily. Argalia would bowl past consent and try to take Lily on expeditions just to rise Roland's blood pressure.
It's interesting to see all of you guys' takes on Lily seeing Roland again because they are all different from what I have in store. I might readjust the eventual reunion a bit, considering the expectations of the vocal majority, but I won't change stuff entirely from my current vision.
You do you. I had Lily and Kai show up after the end because it was cute and I was very pointedly choosing to ignore that Lily having to do anything with the Library before then. If Lily shows up anytime before that, I know how that would end. Not pretty in the slightest.
It will be good to see how you want to plan this out.
Ya know... I realized that it was Stranger Danger when I was writing Roland do that. We know he has (kinda) good intentions and all but I completely didn't think of how that looks from the outside, because oh man, it looks BAD.
On a completely unrelated note, my greatest and most sincere thanks because the comedic potential of this entire concept has just rocketed off into space and I cannot wait to put in the ideas I'm having because of those comments on y'all screens.
I like to think the most confused would be Gebura. While the others are roasting Roland, she will just be standing there trying to figure out how was this even possible. She lived in the backstreets, she knows how the stories go.
The first and most horrible one is that Argalia is being manipulative again. He talked about keeping Lily away from the Library but that dialogue at the end about the "Shitty Uncle" is almost definitely Argalia. I think he helped send Lily to the Library so that either that she kill her father or Roland would be forced to kill his daughter on top of the soon-to-be-revealed Angelica puppet. He is a bloody mad man after the Pianist and I would not put it past him.
The second and a bit more heartwarming thought is that Argalia would actually mean it when he says Lily is his niece because both that she is not Roland and it would annoy Roland so much. The two do have a history of sharing people they care about while hating each other's guts.
Also, like hell Roland would want Argalia around Lily. Argalia would bowl past consent and try to take Lily on expeditions just to rise Roland's blood pressure.
Honestly It could be both. He genuinely thinks and cares about Lily enough to see her as his niece. It's just he's insane enough to not care/to give up how much he cares about her just to make Roland suffer that much more / to go off the deep end even more by first having him kill his own daughter just before showing him with Puppet Angelica.
The first and most horrible one is that Argalia is being manipulative again. He talked about keeping Lily away from the Library but that dialogue at the end about the "Shitty Uncle" is almost definitely Argalia. I think he helped send Lily to the Library so that either that she kill her father or Roland would be forced to kill his daughter on top of the soon-to-be-revealed Angelica puppet. He is a bloody mad man after the Pianist and I would not put it past him.
The second and a bit more heartwarming thought is that Argalia would actually mean it when he says Lily is his niece because both that she is not Roland and it would annoy Roland so much. The two do have a history of sharing people they care about while hating each other's guts.
Honestly It could be both. He genuinely thinks and cares about Lily enough to see her as his niece. It's just he's insane enough to not care/to give up how much he cares about her just to make Roland suffer that much more / to go off the deep end even more by first having him kill his own daughter just before showing him with Puppet Angelica.
My reasoning for why I think that Argalia is still (somewhat) sane during this period is that Lily is still there to keep him grounded. He still wants to go through with his plan but that could mean possibly facing off against her. His bright idea would be to try and bring her around to his way of thinking and he also doesn't want to kill his last link to Angelica. He points Lily in the direction of the Library to show that Roland is no longer the father she knows and that he must be put down. He was banking on her either killing Roland or escaping the Library with or without Kai.
My reasoning for why I think that Argalia is still (somewhat) sane during this period is that Lily is still there to keep him grounded. He still wants to go through with his plan but that could mean possibly facing off against her. His bright idea would be to try and bring her around to his way of thinking and he also doesn't want to kill his last link to Angelica. He points Lily in the direction of the Library to show that Roland is no longer the father she knows and that he must be put down. He was banking on her either killing Roland or escaping the Library with or without Kai.
The more we go down this rabbit hole, the worse it gets for Roland. Both the situation he finds himself in and how much I want to say "What the hell man?" to him.
Argalia, the guy who was already some kind of crazy before the Pianist, banking on Roland to love his daughter more than revenge. The guy that the blue man absolutely despises was part of the plan, a part implying he has actual good qualities. Roland went to disappoint him again.
Just...Just let this sink in for a minute. Argalia in this scenario considers Lily to be Angelica's daughter despite the two never meeting and wants her to join his Ensemble in one form or another. Roland on the other hand couldn't give up his revenge even after years later and rising Lily, then goes on to step out of her life, presumedly without any say on Lily's part, and then fights her and her partner to the death in the Library. A Star of the City versus a Black-and-White duo, where have I heard that before?
This is prime Good Uncle versus Evil/Bad Father fodder. Roland, you do know this looks right? Please tell me you know how this looks because I want to punch you in the face right now and this is from a spin-off of a spin-off!
My head is in my hands right now from how much Roland shoots himself in the foot in this AU. I think what makes it hurt all the more is that Roland would not want any of this to happen.
Am I the only one with an entirely different idea of how Roland and Argalia would behave regarding Lily?
Roland would probably do his best to be a good father-figure to Lily: he "adopted" her as a way of regaining happiness; screwing that up would defeat the purpose. Of course, it's only a matter of time until Lily learns that Roland is a fixer (and kind of a big deal at that), and decides that's what she's going to be; at which point the training begins. Both the physical and technical training, and the emotional training ("don't get too attached to anyone; you never know when they'll suddenly be gone").
(maybe start with something that doesn't weigh as much as you do, O Future Color)
Roland's infiltration of the Library can still work without him being a failure of a father: perhaps Lily is killed by another major distortion; she gets better, of course, but it's enough that Roland's back on the warpath*. He's not getting vengeance in spite of Lily, he's getting vengeance because of Lily. That she can avenge herself, thank you, is probably something brought up when they reunite.
*not the warpath he was on when he found Lily; I just mean he's back on the road that ends up in the Library.
Argalia, on the other hand, is probably even more enraged when he finds out about Lily. The one small consolation Argalia had was that Roland was also broken by Angelica's death. And then Roland finds Lily and starts to heal (or at least, appears to); meanwhile, Argalia still has nothing. He probably still has enough self-control not to target Lily, as doing so would reveal to the City and Hana Assoc. that Argalia is off the deep end. And why would Argalia consider Lily his niece? Lily isn't related to, and never even met, Angelica. To Argalia, Lily is just the adopted daughter of that bastard who failed to protect Angelica and his unborn actual niece/nephew.
He's probably still responsible for orchestrating Lily's invitation to the Library, just to further piss-off Roland.
That is some damn good art there, Null_Mia. Though getting on to something else. I have been having thoughts about a Kai Distortion idea.
Basically, it draws from Fate Anastasia and the original HC story. To put it simply, Kai lives in a world her mother made for her, was supposed to fight in the way her mother wanted her to with something her mother gave her. Kai wanted to see past her mother's world but failed to, presumably in the case Kai actually gets transferred to her Mother's office, resulting her Distortion. This puts up a good link to the HC story.
Now as for the Fate comparison, the distortion bears similarities in appearance and function. To be blunt, most of the power is in the Viy part as the Ana portion is pretty weak without it. Ana!Kai is essentially a mouthpiece for Viy!Kai and is, in fact, her sharing her senses with Viy!Kai since she herself is sensory deprived by herself, making the connection that Kai can't operate without her mother.
This is basically the gist of my thoughts on a Distorted Kai. Not sure how a Distorted Lily would be like but considering the consensus for her ego would be Blooming in Blood, I had the thought of it being based Mary Mary, Quite Contrary.
I thought I recognized that artstyle! You're NullBlack, from TQ's LoR Lets Play. Shame I can't read it anymore lol. Wow, this really is a small fandom.
Erp. Yeah. I agree with your take on Roland, Lily, and Argalia's dynamic. Argalia only cares about things in the context of Angelica, and Lily is simply too many steps removed.
Thread discussion is basically null, but the updates are also placed on the LPBeach thread here.
Better than waiting like a month for the paywall to drop
Tiny Lily is super cute!
I thought I recognized that artstyle! You're NullBlack, from TQ's LoR Lets Play. Shame I can't read it anymore lol. Wow, this really is a small fandom.
If ya wanna keep reading TQ's LoR Let's Play there's a website that's mirroring it for people who can't see it. It's here.
Edit: I'm blind and someone else already posted that website lmao.
Also as for the Dad!Roland AU...the Golden Ending would be even more fucking awkward holy shit. On the plus side, Lily and Gebura interacting would be pure fucking gold.
Thinking about Solomon!Lily's weapon. She would probably have Clarent this time around actually. From what I recall in the main timeline, a crowbar was something she used growing up leading up to her getting a knockbar. Though, she now has Roland who uses a sword so she'd probably get a sword this time around. She'd still name it something weird, I reckon.
Thinking about Solomon!Lily's weapon. She would probably have Clarent this time around actually. From what I recall in the main timeline, a crowbar was something she used growing up leading up to her getting a knockbar. Though, she now has Roland who uses a sword so she'd probably get a sword this time around. She'd still name it something weird, I reckon.
Durendal actually kinda suits Lily, considering it's name more so boasts about it's durability and toughness rather than it's cutting power. I think it's legend specifically revolves around the fact that it's supposed to be indestructible.
Durendal actually kinda suits Lily, considering it's name more so boasts about it's durability and toughness rather than it's cutting power. I think it's legend specifically revolves around the fact that it's supposed to be indestructible.
it was indestructible, but it was also able to cut through stone. So it's honestly the standard "legendary, sharp weapon" package.
On the one hand, I could see Roland leaving Durandal with Lily before he goes to the Library. Would be funny if anyone recognizes it, or questions how a fresh Grade 9 fixer happens to own such an exceptional sword; especially if Roland never told Lily the details of his career path.
"yeah, my old man gave it to me before he disappeared. Washed up fixer by the name of Roland."
"...Roland? Of Charles' Office?"
"I think so? He didn't talk about it much. Why? Have you heard of him?"
Hana Assoc, branch office: "um, we just had a fixer applicant walk in with Durandal. Yes, that Durandal. Does anyone know where Roland is? Right now?"
(actually, at that point I get the feeling that, if Lily hadn't already met Olivier, she'd eventually get a visit from him because of the sword. That's probably when she finds out just who Roland really is.)
On the other hand, when they reunite, only one of them can wield Durandal. Durandal was Roland's weapon (as opposed to the rest which were Angelica's), but then what does Lily use?
(I kinda imagined Lily either using one of Angelica's weapons (either the hammer or mace), or something specifically bought for her. Something blunt like her manners, so that her combat style parallels original Lily's.)
On the other hand, when they reunite, only one of them can wield Durandal. Durandal was Roland's weapon (as opposed to the rest which were Angelica's), but then what does Lily use?
(I kinda imagined Lily either using one of Angelica's weapons (either the hammer or mace), or something specifically bought for her. Something blunt like her manners, so that her combat style parallels original Lily's.)
I had personally imagined Lily using Durendal because it was specifically Roland's. To Roland it would be a representation of himself and his own happiness he wouldn't need in the Library. So he'd just use his wife's weapons.
After binging this Quest until the last update for the past several days, I can safely I am thoroughly terrified and invested in the street punk's story. This was simply fantastic to read and this from start to the (current) finish and look forward to seeing more!
On the other hand, when they reunite, only one of them can wield Durandal. Durandal was Roland's weapon (as opposed to the rest which were Angelica's), but then what does Lily use?
(I kinda imagined Lily either using one of Angelica's weapons (either the hammer or mace), or something specifically bought for her. Something blunt like her manners, so that her combat style parallels original Lily's.)
roland officially passing durandal onto lily definitely has some good symbolism in it for people who are better at literary analysis than I am. Though roland potentially making a sick ass new weapon for lily also makes me go
And with all that talk of passing the torch through Durandel, we get another comparison: Roland and Wonderland.
Roland is a lot more casual in his raising of Lily, well, at least, less controlling than Wonderland. Both Kai and Lily get their weapon from their respective parents. But whereas Kai has a weapon that she is expected to use in a certain way to essentially mimic Wonderland. Lily would, presumably, have a lot more freedom with how she uses Durandel since Roland would reasonably not want her to be a copy of him since he does have the self-awareness of what kind of things would probably happen if she does.
And with all that talk of passing the torch through Durandel, we get another comparison: Roland and Wonderland.
Roland is a lot more casual in his raising of Lily, well, at least, less controlling than Wonderland. Both Kai and Lily get their weapon from their respective parents. But whereas Kai has a weapon that she is expected to use in a certain way to essentially mimic Wonderland. Lily would, presumably, have a lot more freedom with how she uses Durandel since Roland would reasonably not want her to be a copy of him since he does have the self-awareness of what kind of things would probably happen if she does.
Actually I think there might be another level there. Presumably the lesser expectations from Roland and his knowledge of her powers would lead to her directly imitating his style when she learned from him. As Lily is great in a fight but isn't smart like Kai is.
So you have one parent who wants their child to be like them directly rebelling against that idea due to not meeting high expectations. And another who wants their child to be absolutely nothing like them having their child directly imitate them.
Actually I think there might be another level there. Presumably the lesser expectations from Roland and his knowledge of her powers would lead to her directly imitating his style when she learned from him. As Lily is great in a fight but isn't smart like Kai is.
So you have one parent who wants their child to be like them directly rebelling against that idea due to not meeting high expectations. And another who wants their child to be absolutely nothing like them having their child directly imitate them.
This Roland & Lily feels Very Kiritsugu & Shirou. The child idolizing their adoptive father who had "saved" (Kiri is more save while Roland is eeeehhhh...) them who was also broken by the world at that point who desperately doesn't want their child to end up like them but still begrudgingly trains them.
This Roland & Lily feels Very Kiritsugu & Shirou. The child idolizing their adoptive father who had "saved" (Kiri is more save while Roland is eeeehhhh...) them who was also broken by the world at that point who desperately doesn't want their child to end up like them but still begrudgingly trains them.
I'd agree with that. Though there's significantly less ideals involved in general. And Roland would probably train her anyways because yah know. It's the City. In most places not knowing how to fight is a death sentence.
[] Plan: Yomigareri
-[] Be Mao's shield, while you're shaking her out of sleeping on the job as the first step of this fight, and when she's up and about too, you're the wall that can take hits while giving your senior the room to gun down targets.
-[] Slam your head against Mao's while demanding to know if she's gonna live down to all that shit she sold to you about a Scarecrow always standing their ground, if she's gonna give up her hot shit Nest reaching plans for the delusions of a piss monkey like Moon, even wave that fancy ass envelope she was gonna be pissed at her for using if they weren't fucked (note: don't use this until you're ACTUALLY fucked); if this doesn't make her wake up faster, then at least it'll be cathartic as fuck.
-[] Pass over an Iron Pill if it seems like Mao's injuries are about to mess with her stability in the fight, and pop one yourself if you start getting shaky too.
-[] Attempt to break the Bridesmaids and Groomsmen against each other as human bludgeons and/or position them so that Mao's gunfire can puncture more of them at once for faster kills, and if this successfully kills them all while the 7 Seed Buff is still in action, lay Liblayaley out for all he's worth with the last Gunlet Bullet.
-[] If not, focus down killing the Bridesmaids and Groomsmen together, in order of healthiest to most dead man walking, only switching to harass Liblayaley prior if you can't stop him from aiming for Mao otherwise.
Your blood boils, acrid bitter charcoal black, and screeching hot red; you breathe fire and ash – the curtains burn, unveiling 'fore your eyes, the fucking truth to the lie. For the first time since you stepped foot into this battle, you remember why you're here, and for the first time since you faced this thing, you finally see it for what it is. A fucked ugly mess of heart-filled organs; eyes that look down, and lips that sneer. Flesh heart-shaped petal ears, and wriggling red-blue hair; gaping blood vessel tentacles, throbbing, chugging around it like some fucked up sunray.
Knockbar in your right, Guntlet in your left. They feel secure. Feel right. The very moment you brought them out, you shouldn't have hesitated, no matter what or who you faced. Kai, Mao, Mom, Sun, fucking whoever – it should have been goddamn clear; the moment they block your path, the moment any of them look down on you, they're all dead. Your eyes lock with the thing – with the fucking thing, laughing at you, sneering at you, looking down at you, playing with you, like all those fucks did with you, stringing you along, shoving you and pushing you, dangling carrots right at the tip of your nose: manipulating you, messin' with you, dragging you down, and punching and kicking you down, and –
"I'm going to kill you," you growl, and the promise comes deep, vibratin' with every bit and piece of your flesh. "I'm going to rip you apart, crush you down, chew you up until there's nothing left. Every eye, every limb, everything, I'll pluck them out – I'll make you regret."
So you swear. So you promise. No, it's not even a promise, not even a threat – it's the plan, it's what you're going to do to it. You take a step forward, and –
And it sighs, deep and light, low and high, echoing through the dark empty halls of pillars: their voices strike deep, cut through bones, sending shivers down your spine. You flinch. "It's a shame, that it must come this way," it rumbles, it growls, it grumbles. Eyes look down on you, and lips frown, the same way Landlord Lin would frown. "Remember, you asked for this, Lily – I didn't. You could've – we could've been together, in joy and in happiness, fulfilled, and yet –" it cuts itself off. The eyes droop slightly. "So when all is said and done," another sigh, and their limbs stretch out, gaping tentacles twitching, its narrow tips jutting against the ceiling. "Do not blame me," then another sigh: "All I want is your best."
"Bullshit," you spit. You feel as though your head might burst, a little something inside trying to break free. You keep it tightly controlled, tightly coiled. Excuses. Fucking excuses. This is for your best, this is all for you, I'm doing this for you – bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. "All you want is your best."
It twitches. Its eyes narrow. It lets out another rumbling sigh, mournful, disappointed. "And what my best is yours, Lily."
You sneer. Fuck it. Hauling knockbar over your shoulder, you lower yourself, planting your guntlet down to the ground. One foot before the other, stretched apart, like climbing four steps of stairs in one go. Ahead, a tangled mess of veins and arteries, eyes and flesh petals and blood needle-strings. It opens, they open, into a warm embrace. Welcome home, welcome back, it seems to say. You let out a shuddering breath. It's quiet, it's silent, full of silence, but you could hear the loud thumping of your chest.
Ready. Set. And –
[Ego Check: Easy. Pass.]
Aren't you forgetting someone?
[Instinct Check: Hard. Pass.]
You twitch. In the corner of your eyes, there, visible in spite of the darkness, you see Mao slumped against a concrete pillar, unmoving. In her arms, that huge-ass rifle that's almost as tall as you, and probably costs a leg or two to get, and more to maintain, bein' embraced, or cocooned like a child or a lover. The stock tips at the ground between her legs, and the barrel sticks out up, leaning ever so slightly to almost touch the concrete wall behind her. Sticking out of her ear, a disgusting looking thing of red and blue flesh intertwined together, remindin' you for a flash, of that tutti-fruity swirly-colored ice-cream popsicle. It twitches and wriggles, and with it, so does Mao.
Go.
You shoot off, and you feel the concrete beneath you give a little. You snap your attention back to your target, forward, and the eyes track you, probably with ease, sneering. You're no Kai. Red-blue swirly tendrils, dozens of them, rise up behind the thing, wriggling mockingly, its tips narrowing into a spear-point. You clench your jaws together, and –
[Ego Check: Easy. Pass.]
And what, let her die?
She can take care of herself.
[Ego Check: Medium. Pass.]
Doesn't seem like she could now.
She'll wake up on her own – if you could, then so could she.
[Ego Check: Medium. Fail.]
So we're gambling her life?
It has always been a gamble – so it can't be helped.
[Ego Check: Medium. Fail.]
…Is that all?
If you turn your back against the thing, you'll die. It's every man for their own self.
[Vision Check: Hard. Fail.]
Abandoning her it is then –
And the ground beneath your foot ruptures; your grip on knockbar clenches, tightens, until you could feel your own bones and joints pop. Just a few more steps, and you'll get close enough to kill this fucking thing –
You can't pay her back if she's dead.
You click your tongue.
Your foot hits the ground again, and it ruptures again, and you stop – the eyes widen, the tendrils descend onto you like rain. You twist your body, momentum lashing at you, and leap to the side. You snap your jaws together, feel the rattle reach your brain as the spot you were just one turns into a crater of spear-tendrils – of speardrils. It trails, chases, after you, one speardril after another, puncturing concrete as if it was flesh. Growling, and sneering, your eyes lock on to your new and nearing target: Mao.
"This is for the knockbar," you growl, skidding to a halt right before her, your shadow looming over. "So you better be fucking…" you trail off, stopping, as you look at her.
Standing from where you were, you couldn't see her clearly, but now that you're close enough, you could. Still, and quiet, eyes closed with nary a care; if not for her soft breathing, you would've thought her fucking dead – but she's alive, and that, that fucking smile. She's smiling, looking so goddamn pleased, and content with herself; satisfied and happy as if all's right in the fucking world, sleeping and dreaming, as if you're not in the middle of facing a fucking monster, and while you're out here, she's fucking in there and – heat. Heat flares up in your chest, and it fills a pit that you didn't know was there. You reach out to it, but it's slipping, and slipping, and it's gone, lost, and forgotten. Your mind draws a blank, and the pit grows. Something stings your eyes, and you blink them away, glaring at the audacity of this fucking bitch.
You should be the one in her place right now.
You don't know why, why it gotta be like that, but it gotta be like that, and if it can't gotta be like that, then fucking nobody can gotta be like that.
Something slams into your back – then another, and another, and another. You retch, bitter sour vomit and spit spilling out. You buckle down, hunching, jaws clenched tight. You could feel them: tendrils, dozens, hundreds of them, slamming down on you, trying to drill into you, becoming a single pillar mass pushing you down to the ground. You shift your legs apart. Distantly, you feel something move under your skin. You glance down, and see your muscles bulge, feel your muscles stretch, and hear them pop and crackle from inside, flexing, growing, trying, forcing themselves to break free. You hear a scream. Your scream as fire burns your spine, cutting from inside to outside, shooting up from your foot to your neck and the tip of your forehead. Gnawing and feeding and feasting. The world shakes, you shake, tilting and leaning.
But you hold, even as the disgusting thing's tendrils slam, and pound, and drill repeatedly against you, over and over and over after another and another after another, even as your body, as the things inside your body take some control, feeding onto you, feasting upon you, moving, and wriggling, biting and gnawing, reaching and crawling inside you – you. Don't. Move.
[Weeping Heartstrings deals no damage.]
Because if you do –
When you look down, you're greeted by Mao's sleeping, peaceful face. Aside from your blood-colored vomit, she looks unharmed. She probably is.
"Hey, you, asshole," you shout, gritting your teeth. "How can you still fucking sleep?"
No response. Not even a twitch. You're not surprised.
Gnashing your teeth, you glare at the tentacle connected to her ear. Is that how you're supposed to wake her up? You reach for it –
[Insight Check: Medium. Pass.]
Uh. That a good idea?
And stop, staring at her – a spark of a memory; distant, seeming like it's an eternity ago, of being covered from head to toe with knives: a walking breathing pincushion. They were fucking you up, but they're the only thing keeping things inside.
You growl, and scowl, and then snarl – your leg lashes out, the tip of your hard-toed boot slamming into her gut. She doesn't react. Pulling your leg up, you stamp it down flat against her. Nothing. It's like hitting a slab of inches-thick metal – your boot might give before she does. "Goddamnit," you spit out, and again, you lash your leg out, scything into her side, upwards onto her chest, straight flat to her neck. Again, and again, and again. You kick, and spit, and shout and scream, but it doesn't matter. Bruises form, skin breaks, but no matter what happens, she doesn't wake up. Asleep, and peaceful looking as shit. You'd sooner kill her before waking her up. "Wake up, you fucking asshole! Wake up –" you raise your leg, and grunt; your eyes widen as your vision tumbles. Blood-sludged hand wraps around your other ankle, dragging you back, and you fall, slipping, the ground becoming closer. Your hands reach out just in time, clenched fists striking the wall behind her, knuckles digging into concrete. You stomp your raised foot down, pulling your dragged ankle back forward, desperate to regain your balance, teetering at a fucked up angle – a speardril hammers down, and you clench your jaws, shifting your feet together. Breathing raggedly, your eyes fall naturally onto Mao.
She's still sleepin', still smilin' like a fucking asshole.
"Bitch," you force out.
It's getting harder to speak. None of it hurts, but with each impact, with each passing second, and minute, your body feels stiffer, and stiffer.
[Endurance Check: Easy. Pass.]
Invincible.
[Melee Check: Easy. Pass.]
Almighty.
[Ego Check: Easy. Pass.]
Inviolate.
[Instinct Check: Easy. Pass.]
A Tree.
[Instinct Check: Hard. Pass.]
It hardens in response to physical trauma!
"… You pussy. Asshole. Cunt. Fuckhead," you grind out. Your eyes sting. "Liar, liar, liar," you choke out. Shoulda fuckin beat that thing's ass instead being trapped like this. This is what you get for caring. Caring is what got you so fucked up here in the first fucking place! "You said – you said we all stick together. That's, that's what you said, you. Fucking. Liar."
Nothing. No response. You don't know what you expected. You close your eyes and let out a shuddering breath. How the fuck are you supposed to wake her up? Should you even fucking bother? You open your eyes and – and gasp as weightlessness assaults you. You feel light, and tender, and springy. And it takes you a moment to realize why – the tendrils slamming down against you, the tentacles dragging you down: they're gone.
Or not.
You look over your shoulders, and grimace as shrieks burst through your eardrums. A hundred eyes glare down at you, and a hundred more weep in tears: a hundred lips sneering, while another hundred gape open, moaning, as a hundred tendrils pierce into itself. Red sludge leak and burst, pooling under. It slumps, almost, if it could slump, and behind them, those loser fuckos collapse to their knees, mouth wide open, facing the thing with a smile. One moans louder, and that moan turns into a cry, and a shriek, and a scream – and his head suddenly pops like a wet balloon, and his body keels, legs still kneeling, slack on the floor. In the corner of your eyes, at the edge of your hearing, you see Mao twitch, and hear her grunt – blood leaks down her nose. A wet gurgle, red-liquid seeping between the cracks of her lips.
Your heart stops.
[Weeping Heartstrings Deals 13 Damage to Self. Damage is Distributed to the Bridesmaids and Groomsmen, and Mao.]
[Bridesmaids and Groomsmen's Health: 6/20, 6/20, 6/20, 0/20 ]
[Mao's Health: 20/35. Injured. -1 to All Combat Roll.]
[Weeping Heartstrings Receives +1 to All Combat Roll.]
Your eyes lock with a single lone pair of eyes, locked with you. Calm. Cold. Detached. They gaze back, and the hair on your neck raises, pulling your lips back. "You did this. You made me do this. Why do you make me do this?" they speak, they echo, they vibrate. One by one, slowly, it pulls its tendril out of its body. A hundred screams accompanied by a hundred weeping moans. "You could've had everything – anything, I would've given it to you. But you're too dumb, too stubborn to see that. I'm sorry, Lily, but this is what you asked for."
[Ego Check: Easy. Pass.]
They're wrong.
[Vision Check: Easy. Pass.]
They're right.
[Repression Check: Easy. Pass.]
What does it matter?
You stare deep into those eyes, swallowing them, mesmerized – but something else catches the better part of your attention. You turn around and look down to the sleeping Mao. You snort. You nearly laugh. "You sound like a broken record."
There's no response – you could only hear the tendrils, slowly, one by one, agonizingly, deliberately, as if relishing it, indulging in it, leave its body. That's it then, a strange quiet part of you weeps. The end of the string finally cut, torn apart – the end. That's all she wrote. All gone, wiped, and erased clean, forgotten – you'll never experience it again, that oh-so-wonderful, blissful dream.
Alone. Abandoned. Left behind.
Weakly, you kick at Mao's leg.
Still nothing.
"Fuck," you mumble, fire drenched. "Fucking wake up."
You don't know what to do. Leave her to fight the thing? Mao will die. She can't die. You can't leave her to die. Not yet. You haven't paid her back. If you do, then what else is left of you? You're on a clock, and when hand strikes midnight, it's all over for the both of you.
You need something. Anything. "Damn it," you mutter, and kick at her again. You're running out of time. "You don't got any idea, do ya?"
Mao's sleeping face answers you with nothing. Maybe a snore. A wordless, incoherent mumbling under her breath, followed by a dreamy smile.
"Asshole," you grumble, shoulders sagging. Straightening your back, correcting your footing to better cover Mao with your body, you dig an errant hand into your jacket, jamming it in, and –
"My insurance, specifically, so don't pull some reckless shit, okay? At least survive for a whole month before you go and keel over. If shit goes wrong, then…" she pulls out a white envelope from her pocket and slides it to you over the table. "Open this."
Your hand closes around something papery thick – an envelope. Hah, isn't that nice – if you're going to die here, then at least Mao's still got a chance. "Fuck off," you grumble, pulling the envelope out. Somehow, despite everything, bein' all crumpled and balled up inside your guntlet, it still looks fine. Pristine, even, as it uncrumples and unballs itself. Its scent cuts through the thick-blood air, and it reminds you of Mao – of old ink and paper.
Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind – it's gonna be your last attempt.
Your lips twist into a leer as you dangle the envelope over her. "If you don't wake up, I'm gonna open this," you wave it, blowing blood-soaked air into her face. It twitches. You're not even sure if it does anything – if you're doing anything. No reaction. Your jaws clench, gums turning bark-like, red-sap leaking through the cracks. "It's important, ain't it? That's why you told me not to open it – or what? You're gonna fuck me up? Well, shit, who's getting fucked now, huh, you bitch?" you ask, you taunt, you leer. Nothing. You breathe in, then breathe out. The fire grows dimmer and dimmer. You bite the corner of the envelope. "Iwma thear thish fhucking phish –"
[Instinct Vs. DC: 7. Rolls: 8. Pass!]
[Lily Catches and Blocks Weeping Heartstring's Sneak Attack. No Damage Dealt.]
Stop!
Hear. Smell. Feel. Your senses spike – the noise of an arrow cutting the air, cutting the thick blood-drenched wind, and instinctively, you know that your name is not on it. Letting go of the envelope, your guntlet snaps to the side – and impact, it slams straight into the palm of your hand. Smaller, thinner, faster. For a moment, it fights to drill into your palm, wrenching your shoulder apart – and in response, your muscles bulge, veins pop, and you hold. You hold, and the red-blood snake did not, as you squeeze your hand, and it shrieks, and pops, and deflates, withered as it falls.
You glance down to Mao, and feel your heart stutter – any closer, you realize, you think, any later, it would've struck her.
Fuck. Enough fucking around. Scowling, you spit out the envelope – basic rule of combat: never turn your back against your enemy. Well, no shit, right? You like to think it's a special exception, but this exact special exception also nearly got Mao hurt – and maybe that's fine, she'd be fine. Mao's made of tougher stuff. And in any other situation, you'd be fine with it – not when she's under your cover.
[Endurance Check: Hard. Pass.]
A Wall can't be called a Wall if enemies can pass through it.
A Fortress can't be called a Fortress if it's easily penetrated.
A Bastion can't be called a Bastion if it can't protect those inside it.
Besides, what even is the point? She's not waking up – and you just can't leave her be defenseless.
Scowling, you turn around – or you would have, if not for your instinct screaming to stop. You hear a click. A cock, and you look down, and stop and freeze as your throat tightens, constricts itself. Mao's golden-amber eyes meet yours, low, half-lidded, her lips stretched into that shit-eating lazy smirk, and – and the end barrel of her rifle is pointed straight between your eyes. You could see deep into it, the abyss welcoming, and as her finger rests on the trigger, it whispers an Absolute Truth: Death.
Oh. You think, frozen. This is it.
[Endurance Check: Hard. Fail.]
No, you can –
[Melee Check: Hard. Fail.]
Don't just stand –
[Instinct Check: Hard. Pass.]
Embrace.
She squeezes the trigger. You squeeze your eyes shut.
A flash of yellow – of amber pierces through your eyelids, searing the eyes underneath. A bzzt or no, a clacking chittering hiss pops through your eardrums. The thick smell of iron and copper and something else you can't pinpoint stabs into your nose – then it lingers, drowning the honey-sweet blood-soaked air.
[Melee Check: Easy. Pass.]
When you stuck in a taser into one of those assholes.
[Endurance Check: Easy. Pass.]
When one of those assholes stuck in a taser into you.
[Instinct Check: Hard. Pass.]
The beginning of a storm: thunder and lightning and rain striking the wind.
Wait.
Lingers?
You crack your eyes open. You're alive. In fact, even though the muzzle's still there, pointed at your head, you don't feel hurt. You don't think you're hurt. If you're hurt, you should notice, especially considering that it's aimed right at your head, but since you could still see and hear and smell, then you're fine. Probably. Then what the fuck? You open your mouth, but no words could leave your lips – the thumping of your heart drowns even your lips.
[Mao Deals 20 Damage to Weeping Heartstrings!Damage is Distributed. All Bridesmaids and Groomsmen are Dead. 2 Damage to Weeping Heartstrings! Weeping Heartstrings' Health: 53/142.] [Weeping Heartstrings Receives +4 to All Combat Rolls.]
[Mao Deals 4 Damage to Self. Mao's Health: 16/35.]
You look beyond the black barrel, and lock eyes with a pair of curved ambers. "What," you say, then pause. Behind you, a shriek. Shrieks. Screaming. Anguish and pain and sorrow. You glance over your shoulders, and watch the thing bleed, creating a pool of blood under it. You try to find the thing's followers, but where you remembered them to be, there's now only a trio of red gloopy smear gore left. You turn back to Mao. "What," you say again, grateful that the screaming drowns the thumps of your heart, and the hoarse quivers – not that you're quivering – in your throat, on your lips. "What took you so long?"
Mao smirks, and there's a vague sleepy, dreamy quality to it that you notice, lopsided almost. The tentacle stuck through her ear's gone – no, not gone: shriveled up. She runs her sleeves through her mouth, grimacing at what she found. She opens her mouth, then coughs; wet sticky blood-goop lands to the floor. She chuckles, wet, mouth pooling in blood, spilling through, drenching her jacket.
Amber eyes lock with yours: "Kept ya waiting, huh?"
There's a pause. Fuck you say to that? Weakly, you kick her leg – she raises an eyebrow, then chuckles. Blood spurts from her nose. Somehow that makes her chuckle even more.
"Fuck you," you eventually decide, scowling. In the background, the screaming continues – music to your ear.
"Heh," Mao chuckles. Her eyes look past you. "… I guess it's time to pull most stops, huh," she mutters. You see a manic gleam in her half-lidded eyes. "Sorry, Miao," she mumbles under her breath – and then, her eyes lock with you. You flinch, snapping to attention. Before you is neither Mao the Annoying Senior Who Paid You For a Lot-of-Things, nor is she Mao the Vice-Chief of Scarecrow Office. It's something else. "Hey, Lily. Do you trust me?"
Snapping your focus down to her nose, you let out a grunt. "Don't got much a choice."
[Ego Check: Easy. Pass!]
You do.
"I'll take that," Mao smiles, nodding. There's a click, a clunk, as she pulls a lever on her rifle. A glowing white-hot metal shell spits out from the top, and falls with a clattering tinkle, hissing the moment it touches the floor. She takes a deep breath, and then meet your eyes: "I need you to cover me."
[Insight Check: Medium. Pass!]
Not even a question whether you can or not.
[Endurance Check: Easy. Pass.]
Of course not. Why ask something stupid like that?
[Empathy Check: Medium. Pass.]
Because if you die, she dies – at least she wouldn't be fine.
[Endurance Check: Easy. Pass.]
And you won't.
[Ego Check: Medium. Pass.]
She trusts you too.
"Sure," you nod on reflex, and shift your position, stepping closer; the barrel comes closer to your face, and it doesn't shift, but despite the clear death it whispers, you feel calm. Feet apart, you spread your arms wide, rounding them around her, to act as a shield, or maybe a shell would be better. You make yourself as large as possible, to better cover her. "Do your thing."
[Endurance Check: Medium. Pass.]
Your heart soars, and then calcifies into a tree, as strong as the barks of the Black Forest. Should you fall, you'll stand back up again, and should you fall again, your corpse shall hold, unmoved.
Mao nods, and – and you realize, belatedly, the screaming, weeping, and wailing has stopped.
Behind you, you could feel now, taste, and smell the blood-soaked intent wafting – putrid, and sickening, flip-flopping your already-ill stomach; fingers 'gently' caressing the edges of your senses, licking the back of your neck. And no sooner, it snaps into anything but 'gentle'.
Dozens – hundreds strike into you as one, and thousands as hundreds. They repeat, rinse and repeat, one after another like a jackhammer crunching through concrete. You lurch and hunch. It doesn't hurt – you're not getting hurt, but pressure is still pressure, and you can't win against gravity – you can't win against what can't lose. It all feels numb, distant, like you're under a thousand layers of Karrion's Outfit. Your veins bulge again through your skin, muscles clenching tight, flesh contorting. You feel your bones pop, and crack, moving, relocating itself.
Blade-like things slicing you, and spear-like stuffs drilling deep into your flesh. Tendrils loop around your neck, your limbs, serrated edges biting deep into flesh, but there's no blood to be drawn. In the corner of your eyes, something slithers, crawls, and you shift, stamping your foot down. Narrow, small, like a string – no, even smaller than a string, with a mouth at its end. It shrieks, curling, and wraps around your ankle, and gnaws at it, and if you were any weaker, it would've easily pierce through it.
[Instinct Vs. DC: 11. Rolls: 12. Pass!]
[Lily Blocks Weeping Heartstrings' Attack. No Damage Dealt!]
"I'll treat you to a buffet after this."
You look up to meet Mao's smile. A promise, you think dimly – not even an 'if we get through this'. You will get through this.
You growl. "I'll pay on my own."
Mao snorts, rolling her eyes, chuckling. "Well," her finger rests on the trigger. "You should close your eyes."
You glare back.
Mao smirks, then shrugs.
She squeezes the trigger – a flash, a snapshot. Amber circle – circles spring up from the end of the barrel, stopping short just from your face. Layer after layers, circles within circles, symbols and characters that make the hair behind your neck stand. A flash. Only a flash, a snapshot of a moment slowed time. And then –
[Insight Check: Hard. Fail.]
Hey, uh… uh, about that, uh, lightie thingie…
Huh?
[Endurance Check: Medium. Pass.]
Here. It. Comes!
And then – a bark. No, not a bark – a cough, like some fuckhead dipshit who ran out of breath: a strange, but now-familiar scent hits your nose. Thunder and lightning. Amber sparks shoots out, piercing, shattering the layers of holographic circles – and your eyes begin to melt in their sockets. A bzzt, a clattering chittering hissing pop that bursts your eardrums. And the world becomes white, and tries to turn your eyes into like it, and even after seconds pass – or maybe it's an eternity, the white world remains, blinkering. You hear screaming, but it's not yours: dozens and hundreds of tortured wailing and pained shrieking and animalistic roaring.
[Mao Deals 19 Damage to Weeping Heartstrings. Weeping Heartstrings' Health: 34/142.]
[Mao Deals 2 Damage to Self. Mao's Health: 14/35.]
You hear a cough – wet, almost a gurgle from Mao. "Hoh. Shit," she chuckles. "This reminds me of that one accident, Miao…" she starts, then trails off. You clench your eyes shut, and then open them back again. Spots, blinking black and white. A snort, followed by another wet chuckle. "Also, I told you so, Lily."
"Fuck you."
"Hoh. Uh. Lemme catch my breath," a deep, heaving breath – when she next speaks, it's not aimed towards you. Not really. Past you. Behind you, the creature's shrieks die down, and you feel its gaze watching, hesitant. Wary. Fearful. The tendrils that strike you, that wrap around you, retreat. "'Love is like a business transaction'," she muses. "I think I said that before. But thinkin' about it now, I might be wrong, so lemme retract that statement, eh?" she asks, to who, you don't know. "A transaction… is a one-time deal, see. Once either side pays their part, it's over, the end. Sure, you can make another transaction, but it's only going to be vaguely related with the last one. No, that's not love," Mao chuckles, and you hear a pop and a hiss. Slowly, our eyes return to you, even as blinkering whites haunt your vision. "Here's a better one that I've been thinking: love is a contract. It's an agreement. A partnership. A merger. Shared benefits, shared loss – both joy and suffering shouldered together in equal measure."
"You," you start, then pause, looking over her. She looks fucking frail. Pale, even, blood leaking from nearly every hole. Despite that, she looks laxed as watery shit. "Fuck you talking about?"
Mao sniffs, rolling her single eye. "Got a lot to say, see," she shrugs weakly, chuckling. "Thank the beauty sleep. In any case," her eye sharpens, wide open. You stiffen, even as it looks past you. "I see you for what you are, Moon," Moon, the name echoes in your head. You remember now. That's who you're dealing with. "A parasite. A cheat. A conman. A thief. You leech, you trick, you scam, and you steal. So deluded that you're not, you twist yourself to meet your own desire. It would be admirable if it's not so fucking sad. I'd shed a tear if I could, but you can have my pity instead."
An image forms in your head, as you gaze into Mao. You see a cat. Not the big one, or the strong one, or anything special. But just a cat, a stray that you could find just about slinking anywhere in the City. Weathered, wounded, and battered. One ear gone, and the other bitten and chewed like bubblegum. Its tail barely a stub, a limp on its gait. One eye torn apart, a scar running down it, splitting its snout in two. Its side torn open, a wet gash festering, revealing its ribs. Despite all that, it would still lounge there over a ledge with ease, calm, dangling its paw over, peering down on you, on the world, taunting, mocking.
A pause – behind you, Moon's growl echoes in the silent building. If you close your eyes, you could hear beyond the confines, beyond the concretes, outside, where the world marches on without the three of you. How long have you been here? Your watch tells you that it can't be more than a few hours, but it could be broken – days, years could have already passed without your knowing, stuck in a dream, stuck in a chamber of time. When you return to the Office, would it still be there? Would Kai be waiting for you, or would she, would they, have already left you behind as well?
"She refused me, rejected me," the lips spoke, sorrow and anger coming together into one. It pauses again. "But I don't. I accept her, I embrace her. I would do so with you, still would."
"Your head must be a nice place. Must be the price of Distorting, huh," Mao muses, tilting her head. "But she, Sun, she's pretty –"
Like a wolf, it pounces, and like a snake, it lunges – like an animal, it strikes. Tendrils like arrows rain down on you, each one thick with intent. Your instinct screams, and you don't move, you don't have to – they hammer down on you, but you ignore them. Those, you think, are not important. Those, you think, are not why you're here, standing in front of Mao, unmoving. A worm crawls, red-blue leeches hiss and sneak, and shriek as you smear your feet down on them. An elastic eel loops around you, trying to pull you away; two, four, and six bound your limbs, and red-blue bundled cables attempt to whip past you – one, two, and three, you catch them, slap them away with your guntlet; four five six bounce against your knockbar. A whistle cuts the air, and you let the cable around your neck pull you, dragging your head to the side – white spots haunt and form in your eyes, tinkling and twinkling, as an arrow slams and bounces against your skull.
"She's pretty popular," Mao continues, and you shoot her a glare. She ignores it, closes her eyes, even, as she hums a tune. Faith. Faith in you. Fucking fuck. "Got that charm to her. If I ain't already tied, I'd get pulled – but then, if I ain't already tied, I wouldn't even be… here," she sighs. Here, not here as in here, but here as in here. "Hoh. But even my lovely junior here got pulled in a little," she cracks her eye open, smirking at your scowling. "She likes people, in the end, and that makes people like her. Just by bein' around her, others can't help but feel a little happy – a little appreciated. If someone like her exists, there's hope yet. But oh," she leers towards the mass of red-blue flesh heart behind you. "Musta be frustrating, seein' how she opens herself out to people as easily as she opened herself to you – must be scary, thinkin', musin', fearin'," Mao leers. "How many men and women she's already opened herself up to, sluttin' it up there where you can't see her, maybe even more than she did you, that you're not the only one she got her eyes on."
"She ain't like that," you say, gritting your teeth. "She – Sun got her own shit to deal with."
Mao pauses, looking at you, then she smiles.
You squeeze your eyes. She squeezes the trigger.
[Mao Deals 17 Damage to Moon.Moon's Health: 14/142.]
[Mao Deals 4 Damage to Self. Mao's Health: 10/35. Heavily Injured.]
A flash of amber, blinding you even through your eyelids, followed by a bzzt, and a chittering clattering series of pops and hisses; the rasping coughs and gasps of a dying engine.
Behind you: Screams. Wails. Cries. Weeps. Whips and cables and ropes of red-and-blue artery-vein lash upon you, flailing, unstopping. Before you, Mao coughs and coughs and coughs – blood, and vomit spill, combining into thick red goop. She hacks, and coughs, and then something flies, splattering across your face. Blood and… you glance down to the lapel of your jacket. Your throat tightens. Flesh – no, organ flesh. Hers. You look back up to Mao, and see catches your look.
She smiles; black blood stain the inside of her mouth. "Think that one took bits of my lung out," she says, chuckling, rasping. "Hoh. Oof."
Swallowing thickly, you take out an iron pill – you remember buying it sometime ago, during your first babysitting job. You don't think it'd do much, but… Mao raises an eyebrow, letting out a 'hm', before lurches forward, swallowing your whole hand. "Hrm," she grunts, sucking the pill out, swallowing it, then pulling back, her head hitting the concrete pillar. Your hand is now drenched in her... her.
[Mao Consumes Iron Pill. +2 to Health. Mao's Health: 12/35.]
Mao snorts out blood. "That'll help, a bit…" she trails off, amber eye lazily tracing away from you, towards Moon. "Where was I… right. In the end," she muses, and even as Moon doesn't stop his assault, you think he's listening. He can't not. "You can dress it up however you like, that it's better, for her, for them, say that it's all about love, say that it's all about regret, that it's not your fault, but in the end…" she says, finality in her tone. "It's just jealousy."
"I had to – she would have died," Moon hisses, bites out. "Jealousy has nothing to do with it. She… she failed me. Us. Everyone."
"No, you failed her – and the funny thing is," Mao grins, crooked. "She didn't even want you to do anything. It's just jealousy. Insecurity. Inferiority."
"… I was, indeed, pathetic, pitiful," it spits out. "But I have changed, Mao, Lily. I am different. Better. Stronger. I won't fail her. Won't fail you."
"You've changed?" Mao coughs, giggling. "You're fucked, Moon. Have you seen yourself? Around you? You were scared. Not for her, but of her, for you. It's just fear. Doubt. Alarm. Because she's happy. And you're not. And now it's the same."
"You need me, you need love," desperation, you could hear it – trying to convince someone. Something. Itself. "We could've been wonderful together, built a better, safer, future world!"
"No," Mao states, simple. "We don't need you for that."
You grunt, eyes widening, as the assault doubles, triples – hundreds as one, thousands as hundreds, millions as thousands, slam down onto you: a giant stepping down an ant. You lurch, you buckle – you gasp forward, something leaving your throat, crawling out. Your hand goes for it, and you can only stare blankly as you stare at a branch, wriggling, pulsating in your hold. Something moves inside you, bloating, and you retch, and more comes out. Tears gush forth. You plunge your knockbar straight down to the concrete, and hold, and stand and your guntlet smacks away a lunging sneaking tendril. Your throat doubles, triples in size, breaking, tearing you from within.
[Lily Fully Blocks Moon.]
[Seven Seed Expires.]
"Jealousy. Jealousy. Jealousy. Only jealousy. Fear, and sheer fucking impotence. You spout love, talk affection, speak happiness – but you know the truth," Mao chuckles, giggles, laughs as she 'aims' her rifle. Just above you, it looms over. "You take, and leech, and steal. You thief, you scam artist, you cheater, you loser cuckboy –"a pause, a beat. Then: "What did you really Distort for?"
Moon stops. Just stops.
[Empathy Check: Easy. Pass.]
Doubt.
[Insight Check: Medium. Pass.]
Realization.
[Instinct Check: Hard. Pass.]
Contradiction.
"There's no place for you here," Mao says. Squinting through tears, you see something. It reminds you of a dream you once had.
"I," Moon starts, then ends. "Ah. Is that so."
Mao hums. "And this place is not for you."
The weight leaves your body, retreating away, as you retch out leaves and branches and trunk and roots.
The curtain falls. The end. You close your eyes.
"'Till Death Do Us Apart."
Mao signals for the curtain call.
[Mao Deals 20 Damage to Moon.]
[Mao Deals 2 Damage to Self. Mao's Health: 10/35.]
[Moon Dies.]
Blood, gore, and bits and pieces of flesh and red-blue innards splatter across Mao's face. Across your back.
"Ouch," Mao groans, spitting out the bits and pieces. "That –"
"HOahoagohoaoga – !
You fall to your knees, tears streaming down as your flesh bloats and bulge, as more and more branches and trees crawl through your mouth, through your throat, through your skin, and veins and organs. You can't breathe. You can't move. Your only existence is pain.
"… You okay, tiger?"
"Aughauoohgahaoo – !"
An image of a constipation forms inside your head, having to sit and waste hours on the toilet – except, this time, it's through your mouth. Each retch gives only a mere inch, and there's a lot of inches to go through, you can feel it.
"… This is why you shouldn't take random drugs from random workshops."
"Huuuaccghouuuu – !"
It's going to take a while.
Mao whistles.
[Gain Item: Treely.]
[Seven Seed Expires. Backlash: For the Rest of the Week, Lily Remains Injured.]
…
Article:
Status Overview:
Lily. Health: 18 + 14 (Temp)/30 (Injured). Sanity: 7/25 (To Hate, and to Abhor.Terrified). +4 Armor Resist. +1 Mental Resist. +1 Damage. Perk: Life Sap: Gains 5 Temporary Health upon Killing an Enemy. Twice-Beating-Heart: Upon Death, Revives to an 'Injured' State. Usable only once per Week. Knockbar – Off-Balance: On Hit, Enemy's Next Physical Action receives -1. Red Ribbon: Improved Coordination with Kai. Guntlet: Adds +4 Damage to your Attack, Costs 1 Bullet (1 Bullets Available). Iron Pills (2): +2 HP upon Consumption – immediate consumption after another is not advisable. Treely: A Sapling you vomited out – the byproduct of consuming the Seven Seed.
Mao. Health: 10/35 (Heavily Injured). Sanity: 6/35 ('Till Death Do Us Apart.Hopeless). +3 Armor Resist. +2 Mental Resist. +2 Damage with Machete. +6 Damage when Ranged. Perk: Mao, Vice-Chief Fixer of Scarecrow Office: +4 to Ranged Roll, +2 to Melee Roll, +3 to Evasion and Block Roll. Amber Alert: By Sacrificing 1 HP, Successful Attack Ignores Armor Resist. By Sacrificing 2 HP, Successful Attack Ignores any Damage Reduction. By Sacrificing 4 HP, Attack Ignores Any Roll Against It. ???: ???.
…
"So what the fuck was the point of that?" you mumble, drowsily. "Talking shit 'nstead of doin' shootin'."
A quiet groan comes from next to you – the source of the noise, Mao, leans flat over your shoulders, nearly swallowing you whole with her body. She's heavy, you think quietly, heavier than you thought possible. Amber eyes flash slightly, glowing, almost, in the dark of the abandoned construction building. They slide down, and you grunt, quickly and non-panickily grabbing her by the waist to keep her from further sliding down. With some effort, you manage to haul her back to her feet, leaning once more against you as you both meander through the pillared corridors. It's a bit harder, since you're both practically drenched in blood – cleaning up is going to be a pain tonight.
"Distortions," Mao hums, and if not for the fact that you saw her cough out pieces of her actual lung, if not for the whistle-wheeze at the end of her word, you would've thought her doing just dandy. "Are new phenomenon, tiger," she tells you, and you scowl. "And we're only gonna see more of them in the future – most people got no clue how they work –"
"And those that do ain't gonna share," you finish with a grunt, stopping as you squint at the floor – a mini staircase. That's gonna be a fucking pain.
"Can't blame 'em," Mao shrugs. Or tries to. The shoulder on your arm twitches slightly. "But yeah. Figured I gotta see what makes 'em tick."
"… That sounds like a fucking stupid idea," you mumble, glaring at her. If she could see it is up in the air. "Asshole."
"Well. Maybe. Who knows."
"Maybe?"
"Brain's kinda scrambled right now," she reminds you, and you grumble in response. You sniff the air, thick with Mao's scent, and soaked in blood, but the latter is getting less and less, meaning you're getting outer and outer. "It was also just a shot in the dark, in the end," she muses. "Seein' what sticks. To Distort…" she starts, then trails off, quiet. You glance to her, feelin' a little light at her still open eyes. "Is to lock yourself to a single path, to become an idea – is what I thought. Not everyone who got fucked turns into them –"
"But they all got fucked," you catch on.
"Yeah. Salvation," she mumbles, quiet, drowsy, sleepy. Her eyes close, half-lidded. "They latch onto it, fiercely. Like religion – their own rule to follow. If I could nail down the why, understand the cause… then it'd be like antibiotics."
"Antibiowhat?"
"They're human, still," she muses, and you give her a look. She doesn't notice. "And human fucks up, some less than others. They ain't perfect. Distortions ain't too. So if I could flip that religion on its head…" Mao sighs. "They'll attack themselves. If I wasn't so fucked, woulda want to see if I could push it more," she grumbles.
[Vision Check: Medium. Pass.]
A dreamed utopia with no place for you. A pointless existence.
"You're a fucking insane idiot," you mutter. "Better to just kick its ass."
Mao attempts to shrug again, chuckling. "Bad habits die hard," another pause. "Though, in the end, it was still a nice dream, wasn't it? So it ain't all bull."
You don't know what to say to that. "Yeah," you mumble. You've forgotten it. It's gone. But the feelings remain here. Fuzzy, and warm. "Yeah, it was."
A picture forms just as you step outside, of that stray cat. There's a saying, you think, about a cat and curiosity, but then, you don't have to really remember it, as you take in the outside. The smell, you can't believe, makes you feel like you're home. Yet, your eyes stay affixed to the distance, towards North – the night skies are tinged in red-flame, set ablaze, and you could hear battles, weapons clashing, people screaming, music playing, even from here. Not just there, you think, but also around you: the Backstreets have been set ablaze. From where you stand, it's like you're on your own small island.
[Instinct Check: Easy. Pass.]
But North is… That's where…
"That's… where our Office is," you mutter.
"Well," Mao starts, then ends: "Fuck."
Article:
Urban Plague Request Fulfilled
Request Reward: 1400 XP. Total Current XP: 1540 XP.
Monetary Reward: 4,900,000 Ahn (35%) + 700,000 Ahn (5% — "Bonus for trusting me.") = 5,600,000 Ahn. Total in Wallet: 5,625,373 Ahn.
Now, Where to Go From Here?
Your guts twist at the sight, at the sign and omen, the talk you had back then with Mao, and where your Partner is most likely at right now – but you'd be fucking fucked in the head if you go there to the Office right now. You're hurt, and your head feels funny – and Mao's even worse, and as the Night approaches, it'll only get worse. No, you need to go somewhere safe. Safer.
Choose 1:
[] Mao's Home. Mao's place, her sanctuary – you're gonna have to close your eyes, and trust her directions when you're close-ish, but even that's… that's a lot of trust given to you. Or at least, so Mao tells you. She has never told anyone about this, and… well, it's hell much closer than your own place. Plus she apparently got medicines, and her place is set for more than a few guests – in spite of never having received guests.
[] Your Place. For all its flaws and bad memories, if there's one thing that your apartment is superior above all else, it's security. You don't know how Lin does it, and it's not just because of his relations with the local Murasaki Syndicate, but you swear that if the whole Neighborhood got nuked to hell, his Apartment Complex would still be standing. Explaining yourself (and Mao) to Landlord Lin is gonna be rough though...
3 Hour Moratorium for Where to Sleepover Vote. Might shorten/prolong it if necessary.
