Viatica

sound.ambient.desert.url: 'Audio/desert.mp3' sound.ambient.desert.description: 'haunting desert music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'desert'} ~~Chapter 1~~ The sand is everywhere. The streets are blanketed in it. The buildings are covered in it. The feet of the workers kick it up in small red clouds. It spreads beyond the black pits where the fires burn, beyond the fields where the gatherers work, and even beyond the great wall of The City. The red valley stretches as far as the eye can see, dotted here and there with jagged rocks jutting from the earth, stopping only at the base of the mountains. Whether it continues beyond the mountains, no one knows. No one ventures outside the great wall, the council forbids it. The council established the laws governing The City, and the guard are the enforcers who carry out their will. Defying either is unthinkable. Everyone in The City has a purpose, as determined by the council. When a child comes of age they are assigned work as a feeder, builder, digger, or even a member of the guard. There are no names, just number designations that coincide with your job. You have no identity beyond your purpose. Every morning, the workers rise and silently go about their day. In the evenings, they shuffle their way to the feeding station for the communal meal. Then they retreat to the barracks to sleep, only to rise again the next morning and repeat their day. One day bleeds into the next, and the next, and the next. It is as constant as the red dust. [[It is how The City has always been.->Chapter1_02]]

The clinic is the tallest building in The City, save for the hall where the council and guard reside. From your window in the clinic you have a clear, unobstructed view of the circle. You are H-313, a healer. That was the role assigned to you when you came of age. You tend to the sick and wounded, though mostly the latter. The sick do not survive long, and it is inefficient to waste limited resources on them. That being said, The City can not survive without the efforts of every able bodied worker. No job is seen as better or worse than another—they all serve a purpose. *Your* purpose is to ensure everyone is fit to work. [align left] > [[You are happy as a healer.->Chapter1_03v1]] > [[You are indifferent to your job.->Chapter1_03v2]] > [[You often feel like you are meant to be doing something else.->Chapter1_03v3]]

As the sun sets behind the mountains, the bell in the circle rings. The circle is quite literally just that—a large stone platform in the center of The City, like the eye of a storm. Thin rectangular openings are cut into the sides, the bottoms of which disappear into the red earth. A narrow set of stairs leads up to the front. A worker stands to one side of the circle, striking a large black bell with a wooden rod. The bell is made of a thick metallic material, noticeably out of place amidst the red clay and grey stone. Every so often the diggers unearth strange objects made of the same material, which are quickly discarded. You've heard furtive whispers about such items and the bell, spoken in haste and fear—that they existed *before* The City, remnants of a time unknown. However, with communication among workers forbidden, talk does not circulate long. Whatever its original purpose, the bell is now used to call workers to the lesson. The deafening tones are enough to reach every worker's ear, even those toiling at the outskirts. [[You turn toward the sound of the bell.->Chapter1_03]]

You are indifferent to your job. The council told you to be a healer and you are. It is as simple as that. You go about your work methodically, operating more on pattern than choice. But sometimes, in the quiet moments between patients, you stop. Breathe. Listen for... what? You can't explain the numbness you feel, the disconnect. There is a blank spot inside you, that is the only way to describe it. {embed passage: 'Chapter1_04'}

You often feel like you are meant to be doing something else. Sometimes you watch the other workers from the clinic window and your mind wanders. You imagine yourself as a weaver, mending the clothes and blankets used by workers. Or maybe even as a feeder, working with others on the communal meal. And though you dare not think long on it, sometimes you imagine yourself *outside* the wall. It is all so confusing. The council assigned you this task. There was no other for you. So why do these thoughts leave you aching? You clench your fists, shake your head, sometimes pace about the room. You feel anxious and lost and angry. You want to shout something, anything, everything. {embed passage: 'Chapter1_04'}

You are happy as a healer. You enjoy caring for others, helping them feel better. Most workers ignore you as you tend them. A brave few will raise their heads and make eye contact. Some even smile. You aren't allowed to speak to one another, of course, but that limited interaction is more than most workers get. Even so, the work gives you a sense of... rightness. Contentment? You can't name the feeling, but you embrace it. {embed passage: 'Chapter1_04'}

You reach out and lay your hand on the window ledge, clutching it tightly. You can feel the coarse sand beneath your skin and you look down. While your job affords you a small reprieve from the dust, you are not immune to it. You can just barely make out the {cycling link for: 'skin_color', choices: ['ivory', 'olive', 'tawny', 'light brown', 'dark brown', 'ebony']} tone of your skin beneath the red coating. You look up, your {cycling link for: 'eye_color', choices: ['blue', 'green', 'hazel', 'brown', 'black', 'grey', 'gold']} eyes returning to the scene unfolding before you. The sun is dropping lower but there is still more than enough daylight for you to see clearly. You watch as several workers erect a thick clay pole in the center of the circle. Brittle twigs and thin logs are placed at the base of the pole. A lone worker walks toward the pile of timber. Their moves are delicate, cautious. From this distance it's difficult to tell if they are a man or a woman. They are not covered in the same red dust as the other workers. A thick layer of black ash covers them instead, allowing only a few patches of fair skin and curly red hair to be seen. [[The ash is a trait common to all burners.->Chapter1_06]]

The burner keeps their gaze lowered as they move. One did not make eye contact. To do so would only invite further contact. They move quickly to the back of the platform toward a small fire pit. A layer of sand and pieces of kindling collect in the pit, fuel for the flames that leap around the edges. This fire never dies, and the orange flames provide the only source of warmth after the sun goes down. A burner watches the fire every hour of the day. When the sun rises the next day, a second burner comes to relieve his comrade. There is never a time when the fire burns alone. As the burner bends to retrieve a torch from the pit, a movement ripples through the gathered workers. The crowds part as five workers make their way to the stone platform: four guard, two of whom carry large clubs openly in their hands. The fifth is a digger, naked except for the tattered linen pants barely covering his legs. He walks slowly, his ankles and hands bound with rope. Even from this distance you can see the deep cuts and bruises marring his body, and the film of dust mixes with the sweat and blood. His head is shaven, as is customary for all diggers, which makes the purple welts above his eyes all the more visible. The digger keeps his head bowed as he ascends the steps. As he comes abreast of the wooden pole, one guard steps forward and the other three proceed to tie the digger to the pole. [[The lead guard raises his arms.->Chapter1_07]]

It's difficult to identify your emotions. You simply don't have the words. No one does. Workers like you are not allowed to speak to one another. Usually the only voices heard were those of the guard, and that was never a good thing. [[The sound of the bell interrupts your musings.->Chapter1_05]]

The sun finally sets over the mountains, enveloping The City in a hazy darkness. The red dust tints the night sky a moldy shade of brown. If there is something to see beyond that haze, the dust does not permit it. You remain standing at the window. You can hear the shuffling footsteps of the other healers on the stairs as they retire for the night. For a moment you think you even hear one of them crying. The crowd below dissipates and the valley grows silent once more. All that remains is the dance of the flames against an empty sky. And the memory of the most perfect words you have ever heard. [[Begin Chapter 2->Journal19]]

“Lesson now!” he shouts. His voice is cracked, gritty, as if the words are too heavy, too *wrong*. “Worker leave duty. Try leave City. Defy council law. For crime, he punish. You watch, you learn.” The guard sounds far too satisfied, too *pleased.* Something twists inside your gut as you watch, unable to look away. “Worker R-793," the guard intones, his gaze shifting to the burner. "Light fire.” The burner steps forward. They glance briefly at the worker tied above them, then look away just as swiftly. But you notice. The burner kneels and brings the torch forward. And that's when the condemned raises his head. The digger swivels his head back and forth, his eyes scanning the crowd. The movement is earnest, defiant. As if these are not his last moments, but his first. Then shockingly, willfully, his gaze settles on you. And you... [align left] > [[Hold it.->Chapter1_07v1]] > [[Look away.->Chapter1_07v2]]

You hold the digger's gaze. You are too far away to make out the color of his eyes, but you are certain they are all the colors. All the moments. They are every shade of brilliance and sound and texture you never knew existed. The flames are rising higher now, an ugly horror of bone, charred skin, and red dust. So much red. But you keep his gaze. {embed passage: 'Chapter1_08'}

You can't help it, you have to look away. You feel rage, despair, hopelessness, panic, yearning, and a thousand other emotions you have no words for. It is too much. {embed passage: 'Chapter1_08'}

"You are more than this city, than what *they* tell you!" the digger shouts to the crowd. There is no response, but the silence seems to grow heavier, thicker. His voice is strong, solid as the clay walls, yet as open and immense as the valley. You knew the pain had to be excruciating, but his voice barely falters. He speaks with conviction. With certainty. *Purpose*. You have never heard such a sound, nor such words. "Do not believe what they tell you!" he continues. "Question everything. Be brave! Do not let this city be the end of you!" His voice ends on a wail, the sound echoing off the canyon walls. Finally, mercifully, he stops moving. [[You wait.->Chapter1_09]]

~~Chapter 2~~ The early morning sun seeping in from your window wakes you. You climb out of your cot, adjust your long-sleeved tunic, and head downstairs to work alongside the other healers. Unlike other workers who sleep in a communal barracks, healers sleep in a large room on the top floor of the clinic. In the morning you had only to walk downstairs to prepare your room for the inevitable patients. It was simple. Efficient. Like everything in The City. The first three floors of the clinic are reserved for patients. Each floor is separated into four rooms, tended by one healer each. Along the walls of each room are a number of shelves holding an assortment of herbs and ointments, as well as a pile of cloths that can never be fully clean. There is also a cot in the center of each room. Every morning the guard arrive at the clinic with large wooden basins filled with water, one for each room. A wooden lid covers the basins, preventing most of the water from spilling while the guard carry them up the stairs. Healers, gatherers, and feeders are the only workers with access to water, and even that is limited since the guard allocate it. The healers portion theirs into smaller wooden pails for each patient. With only one basin allowed them a day, the water has to be used sparingly. Having just received your water, you kneel beside the basin and take note of your reflection. Staring back at you are a {eye_color} pair of eyes set in the face of a young {cycling link for: 'gender', choices: ['man', 'woman', 'worker']}. [[Next->Chapter2_01]]

*Journal Entry 19* *Yesterday Jacob came up with the idea for another job: caretakers. With everyone working long hours it's difficult to care for the children; the older ones in particular have to fend for themselves. Everyone agreed it was worth a try. They say it takes a village to raise a child. Or in our case, a hastily put together commune of scrappy survivors.* *Everett joked that he came up with the idea just to avoid having to change Elsie's diaper. At least, I think he was joking. Those two rib each other constantly, but honestly it's nice to see. They keep things light hearted around here. We could all use a laugh. Elsie is lucky to have such great dads.* *Abram and Lorna left us today. They're not the first to venture off on their own, but their departure was the most difficult. They had been so helpful, at the start. We tried to convince them to give our new community a chance, but in the end they were just unhappy. We didn't stop them from leaving. We understand everyone is doing the best they can.* [[Chapter 2->Chapter2_00]]

Despite the council's best efforts to categorize workers into male and female, you never saw yourself as either. This was especially difficult when it was your turn in the chamber. Upon reaching 20 years of age, every worker has to go to the chamber. There they are paired with a worker of the opposite sex - of the council's choosing - to ensure the next generation of workers. What happened in there was cold, uncomfortable, and you do your best to forget it. [[Next->Chapter2_01v1]]

“Worker H-313.” You whirl around to find a guard standing in the open doorway. You quickly lower your gaze and take a small step forward. Beneath your lids you see the guard turn aside and pull a worker into the room. “Worker B-485 need heal,” he says. “When done, go work.” You nod, watching as the guard's feet turn away and step out of sight. Only when you hear the wooden door swing shut do you lift your head. The first thing you notice about your patient is the rich tone of his skin. Though it is not uncommon for workers to have skin tanned by the sun, his is a warm, natural dark hue. From the well-toned muscles and the black, coiled hair trimmed short above his ears, you guess him to be a builder. He looks a little older than you, his square face austere and fierce, made more so by an old scar that runs halfway down the left side. He has a trimmed beard and brown eyes so dark they almost appear black. Everything from his intense gaze to his rigid posture screams defiance. [align left] > [[❤️ He is very pleasing to look at. You continue to stare at him.->Chapter2_02v1]] > [[💛 You blink rapidly when you realize you're staring. Odd. He is no different than any other patient.->Chapter2_02v2]] > [[You realize you're staring and quickly look away.->Chapter2_02v3]]

You're not sure how long the two of you stay locked liked that. A moment? A day? You have no desire to stop but eventually the guard *will* come looking for him. Strangely, the thought doesn't concern you as much as it should. You raise your chin and smile at him. He frowns, looking more confused than bothered. He doesn't seem to understand you. You're not sure you understand yourself. You gesture to the cot. As he walks past you, you realize how tall he is. You are {cycling link for: 'height', choices: ['short', 'average', 'tall']}... [[Next->Chapter2_03]]

The man continues to stare at you, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. Ever so slightly he raises an eyebrow, the only break in his mask. You feel your cheeks growing warm, your hands clammy. The room suddenly feels too hot and too small. What is happening to you? You quickly turn away and gesture to the cot. As he walks past you, you realize how tall he is. You are {cycling link for: 'height', choices: ['short', 'average', 'tall']}... [[Next->Chapter2_03]]

The man has a very intimidating presence, much heavier than any simple worker. It's unnerving. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and gesture to the cot. As he walks past you, you realize how tall he is. You are {cycling link for: 'height', choices: ['short', 'average', 'tall']}... [[Next->Chapter2_03]]

The previous night’s lesson comes to mind. You remember the digger tied to the clay pole. You remember the fire burning his legs and the intense expression on his face. Something inside you shifts imperceptibly. You slowly draw your hand away. The man sits with his back to you and makes no acknowledgment of the fact that you stopped. You open your mouth to speak but all you can manage is a weak croak. You close your mouth and shake your head. The man shifts slightly on the cot. It's more a pulse than a movement, but it bolsters your resolve. You take a deep breath and open your mouth once more. [[“What do?”->Chapter2_05]]

You blink. Was that you? Your words seem to catch on the air, lingering in the space around you. It's a stark contrast to the coarse, sunken voice of the guard. Your tone is faint from years of neglect, but the words are perfect. Not correct, you know. But perfect. The builder makes no sound. He does not move, but continues to stare in the direction of the wooden door. "What do?” you repeat. This time your voice is louder, steadier. “We are not allowed to speak.” [align left] > [[Though his response is short, you're infinitely pleased to hear his voice. It's precise, unnatural. You want to hear it again.->Chapter2_05v1]] > [[You giggle happily. At least you think you do. You're fairly certain you're suffering from the heat and have no idea what you're doing.->Chapter2_05v2]] > [[This was a terrible idea. Surely your worst idea ever.->Chapter2_05v3]]

hasVoice: true hasVoiceLoud: false hasVoiceMeek: false -- "No guard now," you say. "No hear." You smile as you glance about the room. What is this feeling? Your room seems brighter, larger. Even the weight of the dust is lifting. You giggle again. Is that really your voice? It sounds almost manic. Your patient turns his head and looks at you. Some of the intensity has left his expression and he looks almost... amused? You slowly breathe in and out, trying to control your racing heart. You surely are having some kind of episode. You grab a fresh cloth, partly hiding your face behind it, and continue cleaning his wounds. "Why you word... um..." Gosh, this was hard. "Word good. Like digger." Your patient sighs. He turns and looks squarely at you, his dark eyes peering intently into your own. “You ask a lot of questions.” You have no idea what *questions* are so you simply shrug. "Long time, no talk. You no same worker. You answer, maybe. I try.” It's difficult finding the right words, but that doesn't bother you. You can't remember a day you enjoyed this much. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_06'}

hasVoiceMeek: true hasVoiceLoud: false hasVoice: false -- You nod hurriedly, even though he can't see you. You grab a fresh cloth and return to cleaning his wounds. He was right, of course he was right. And yet... "Why you word... um..." Gosh, this was hard. "Word good. Like digger." The words tumble out of you, like sand spilling into a freshly dug trench. You can't stop them, though you desperately want to. Your patient sighs. He turns and looks squarely at you, his dark eyes peering intently into your own. “You ask a lot of questions.” You have no idea what *questions* are so you say simply, "I sorry." How can your voice be so soft yet so loud? It reminds you of the small brown mice you sometimes see in the fields. You desperately wish for a hole you can burrow into right now, as they do. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_06'}

hasVoiceLoud: true hasVoiceMeek: false hasVoice: false -- “I know,” you reply. You grab a fresh cloth and return to cleaning his wounds. “What do?” The silence drags on and it begins to feel oppressive. After so many years of holding back your words, it now feels uncomfortably wrong. You feel emboldened and continue. "Why you word... um..." Gosh, this was hard. "Word good. Like digger." Your patient sighs. He turns and looks squarely at you, his dark eyes peering intently into your own. “You ask a lot of questions.” You have no idea what *questions* are so you simply shrug. "Long time, no talk. You no same worker. You answer, maybe. I try.” The last words came out with a huff of annoyance. There are other words, better words to express your thoughts, you are certain of it. You promise yourself you will find a way to improve, whatever it takes. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_06'}

The man studies you a moment longer, then returns his gaze to the door. Just when you think he will not answer you, he does. [["He was my friend."->Chapter2_07]]

"What freeend?" you ask, drawing out the word. You've never heard it before. "Did you see the lesson last night?" Your hand stills just as you are wrapping a bandage around his arm. You quickly tie it off, then step around the cot so that you're facing the builder. "He was my friend," he says, his eyes on your face. "I tried to help them - I mean, *him* - leave The City. When the guard came after him, I purposely tripped, pulling the guard down into a trench with me. It gave him time to flee." He looks down at his hands. "But not enough," he adds quietly. "The guard thought me clumsy," he continues. "He beat me for my carelessness. If he had known my true intentions, I would have burned, too." "Why leave City?" you ask. It made no sense. The builder swallows tightly and looks away. "Big risk, no smart," you tell him. The words come easier now. "You punish. Why?” “You say an awful lot,” the builder notes, raising his gaze to yours. “Have you ever spoken to anyone before?” You shake your head and return to dressing his wounds. “You want to know why I did it?" he resumes after a moment. "For the same reason that you are speaking to me now. He had to know that he was not alone. And I had to know that I was not alone.” You cock your head to the side, more confused than ever. What is this *alone* he speaks of? How does he know all these strange words? “You word," you plead. "Where learn?” He doesn't answer but simply stares at you a moment, his gaze keen and inquisitive as if he's trying to figure something out. “I must get back to work." He stands and makes his way to the door. "Thank you for your help.” His last words are unfamiliar but they leave you with a warm feeling of gratitude. He walks from the room without waiting for your reply. Not that you could have managed one. [[You stare at the space he left, now so much smaller.->Chapter2_08]]

The next day is blissfully quiet. Distracted as you are, you would not have done a good job of helping patients. You notice your supply of ointments is running low so you decide to head to the feeding station to request more ingredients. You grab the nearly empty bottles and place them in a thick cloth sack, cinching it closed with the tassels at the top. Slinging it over your shoulder, you walk downstairs and out of the building. As you walk, your thoughts inevitably drift back to yesterday’s strange events. [align left] > [[You regretted your words almost as soon as the builder had left.->Chapter2_08v1]] > [[It was difficult to keep the smile from your face.->Chapter2_08v2]] > [[❤️ You want to see him again.->Chapter2_08v3]] > [[💛 Your throat feels dry every time you think of him. You probably just overused your voice.->Chapter2_08v4]]

config.style.dark.page.color: "cinnamon-2" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "amber-3 on red-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "amber-3" config.style.dark.page.link.font: "Trebuchet MS/Constantia/Georgia" config.style.page.color: "orange-6 on cinnamon-1" config.style.page.font: "Iowan Old Style/Constantia/Georgia/serif 18" config.style.page.link.active.color: "orange-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "orange-4" config.style.page.link.font: "Trebuchet MS/Constantia/Georgia" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "orange-4" config.style.page.theme.enableSwitching: true -- ~~Viatica~~ is a fantasy Interactive Fiction set in a dystopian, post-apocalyptic future, with a focus on personal growth, kinship, and platonic and romantic bonds. Your world is a desert, both figuratively and literally. Speech is prohibited, books are outlawed, and any meaningful human interaction is nonexistent. Humans are reduced to the job they do for The City. There are no names; instead, everyone is identified by a number. You are H-313, a healer. Create and customize your character: male, female, or non-binary; gay, straight, or bisexual. Become an individual in a world of drones. Learn to speak, express your emotions, define your personality. Dream big, resist tyranny, inspire the masses, and forge a new world. Or not. This is *your* journey, after all. There are no point-based choices or outcomes; no choice is wrong. It simply changes the type of person you grow to become. Cultivate relationships with others, both romantic and platonic. More flirty/confidant romance options are marked with a ❤️, while more oblivious/subconscious options are marked with a 💛. It’s difficult to understand emotions, after all, when you barely understand words. ~~Romance Options:~~ B-485, Lion (he/him) He is a builder, stoic and strong. He is tall and muscular with brown skin and black, coiled hair and beard. At 26 he is the eldest of the group. Later in the story, he chooses the name Lion for himself. He is aloof and enigmatic. But what truly sets him apart from other workers is his ability to speak clearly and articulately. How? More to the point, can he teach you? F-525, Heron (he/him) He is a feeder, lean and toned. He is medium height, with long blonde hair usually tied back in a ponytail and cool blue eyes. He is 22 years old, same as you. Later in the story, he chooses the name Heron for himself. He does not question his role, nor act in any way contrary to what is expected. What passions and tempers will you find when that veneer cracks? More importantly, why does he seem so familiar? S-622, Ferret (she/her) She is a sweeper, slender and nimble. She is medium height, with olive skin, dark brown hair and narrow grey eyes. She is 21 years old. Later in the story, she chooses the name Ferret for herself. She is impulsive, stubborn, and quick to anger. When you first meet her she is very combative, but you eventually see the fearless and inquisitive soul underneath. Could she be a kindred spirit, or perhaps even more? R-793, Robin (they/them) They are a burner, petite and cautious. They have ivory skin, curly red hair, and heterochromia: one eye is green, the other brown. They are 20 years old. Later in the story, they choose the name Robin for themself. In a world where roles are based on gender and strict definitions of what a worker is, they have always felt out of place. Their discomfort was made worse by a recent traumatic experience. Can you help them to accept and appreciate the worthy person that they are? *This story is intended for mature audiences. Possibly triggering topics present in the story include blood, death, violence, rape (mentioned), child abuse, mature language, and sexual content.*

It was careless, foolish! You gave your fellow healers a wide berth, convinced they could see the guilt on your face. You will have to be extra careful from now on. Keep your head down. Do not speak. Forget him. Even as you think it, you can’t resist lifting your gaze, searching for that familiar face among the throng. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_09'}

You hoped none of the other healers noticed. Even now it’s difficult to school your features. You want to speak as he did. You want to walk with that same confidence. It was the most incredible thing you had ever witnessed. You repeat his work number over and over in your head, not because you’re afraid of forgetting, but because you can think of nothing else. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_09'}

You remember his eyes and the way he regarded you, fervent, relentless. His words, his attractive features, the way he commanded the room… everything about him was *more*. You have to find a way to speak to him again. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_09'}

Your stomach is a little queasy, too. Your interaction must have rattled your nerves more than you thought. You consider skipping the evening meal to give them time to settle. Perhaps you’ll mix yourself a tonic when you return. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_09'}

Your steps take you past the fields, the only expanse of brown dirt in The City. Here the gatherers plow the land, plant crops, and tend to the small orchard. Just enough food is picked for the communal meals, plus extra medicinal plants for the healers’ needs. Most gatherers are children under the age of 12 who have not yet received a duty. When a child is born, it is seized and sent to the nursery to be raised by the takers. When they are old enough to work, they are sent to the fields. Not all gatherers are children, several are adults assigned the role. Beyond the fields looms the feeding station, a massive piece of stone architecture. It looks similar to other buildings except it is open on one side. There is a row of clay ovens against the back wall. In a corner to the left is a wooden set of shelves with dried fruits, root vegetables, and various other plants. To the right are several clay bowls filled with water. The guard supplies the water here, as well. No one knows where it comes from. All of this is supervised by the feeders. They prepare and cook the vegetables, along with the occasional rodent or lizard caught in The City. At meal time the workers wait patiently in long lines for their portion of the stew. It's relatively calm at the station, still too early for the meal. You approach the nearest feeder, a lean young man with long blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His back is to you as he examines something on the shelves, the lightly toned muscles on his arms visible beneath his short-sleeved tunic. There's nothing overtly remarkable about him, yet oddly, inexplicably, you take note of him. [align left] > [[You tap him on the shoulder.->Chapter2_09v1]] > [[“Feeder,” you say.->Chapter2_09v2]]

He turns and his eyes meet yours. They’re the lightest shade of blue you have ever seen—glacial and lucid and startlingly out of place here. They're set in a narrow face, all long lines and sharp features. You smile and his cool eyes narrow. He leans to the left, looking at something over your shoulder. Then he straightens and looks at you once more. His expression eases—not quite as icy, but not what you would call welcoming, either. You remove the vials from your bag and silently hold them out to him. He takes them and turns them about in his hands, carefully examining the contents. Then he nods - more to himself than you - and turns back to the shelves. He fills them with a colorful mix of flowers and small leaves, his movements practiced and methodical. He returns and hands the vials back and you place them in your bag. You flash him a parting smile, then turn to leave. A dark-skinned, female guard is walking toward you. You quickly halt and drop your gaze. Did she observe you? No, no she was too far away. You grip your bag tightly to keep your hands from shaking. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_10'}

He startles and drops the bowl he was holding. It makes a dull thump as it hits the sandy floor, spilling its contents of lumpy brown… well, some sort of food. You bend down to retrieve the items and he does, too. You can feel his eyes on you all the while. They’re the lightest shade of blue you have ever seen—glacial and lucid and startlingly out of place here. They're set in a narrow face, all long lines and sharp features. Once everything is picked up he hastily shoves the bowl onto the shelf and turns to face you, waiting. You remove the vials from your bag and hold them out to him. “Need more heal,” you tell him. He only stares at you, his cool eyes narrowing as if trying to puzzle something out. You smile and wave the vials in front of him. This seems to snap him out of his trance. He takes them and turns them about in his hands, carefully examining the contents. Then he nods - more to himself than you - and turns back to the shelves. He fills them with a colorful mix of flowers and small leaves, his movements practiced and methodical, then hands them back to you. “Thank you for your help.” You repeat back the words the builder spoke, hoping to convey that same feeling of gratitude. He nearly drops the containers again. You store them safely away, smile once more at him, then turn to leave. A dark-skinned, female guard is walking toward you. You quickly halt and drop your gaze. Did she hear you? No, no she was too far away. You grip your bag tightly to keep your hands from shaking. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_10'}

“What you do?” the guard barks. You open the bag so she can see inside. “Healer?” she asks. You nod and this seems to satisfy her. She inclines her head, her long braids skirting about her shoulders. “Go clinic.” As you walk away you hear her address the feeder. “Worker F-525, work now.” There’s a muffled thumping noise, then the sound of shuffling footsteps. You don't dare turn around. [[His number echoes in your head all the way back to the clinic.->Chapter2_11]]

You spend the rest of your day mixing salves and medicines the way you had been taught when you were an apprentice. You grind the herbs down using a mortar and pestle, mixing in a small amount of water till it’s a thin paste. Just as you’re finishing a shadow crosses your door. You look up. And gasp. The burner from the other night is standing in your doorway. Their features are even more willowy up close. They have thin lips and a narrow, upturned nose set in an oval-shaped face. Their hair is a wild mass of red curls and partially covers their large green eyes. No, wait, brown eyes? Both? They have two different eye colors. Fascinating! You’re so focused on their eyes that you almost miss the way they’re cradling their right arm against their chest. There’s a crude bandage around their hand and wrist, dotted with blood. You hastily put your tools away and motion them toward the cot. They walk fully into the room and sit down, their tentative steps barely making a sound. When they sit they keep their head down and their neck tucked into their shoulders. You crouch in front of them and start to remove the bandage. The skin below is red, raw and blistered. [[Burns are a common occupational hazard among burners.->Chapter2_12]]

You recall the first time you had to go to the pits to dispose of soiled bandages. They're located on the opposite side of The City, far removed from all other structures. It is stifling and oppressive and difficult to breathe there. It feels like a coarse blanket wound too tightly around your body. The second time you visited the pits was even less pleasant. You had to escort the body of a worker you were unable to save. Everything, *everything* in The City burns, and the pits never lack for fuel. You grab a blue ointment off the shelves and gently apply it to their skin. It will help alleviate the pain, but you know the first contact will be ice cold and uncomfortable. Sure enough, the burner hisses behind their teeth and hunches further into themself. [align left] > [[❤️ You cradle their hand in yours, your touch gentle and soothing.->Chapter2_12v1]] > [[💛 Your breath hitches and you feel a surge of compassion for the burner. You want to comfort them.->Chapter2_12v2]] > [[You feel sorry for the burner.->Chapter2_12v3]] > [[You harden your heart and continue spreading the ointment.->Chapter2_12v4]]

Something about this worker makes you want to take care of them. To hide them away from the pain. From The City. All of it. You stroke their uninjured hand, your fingers making small whirls in the ash covering their skin. “There, there,” you say. The words are lacking, frustratingly simple, but you have to say *something*. There is a strange emotion tugging at your chest, like a mighty gust of wind during the occasional sandstorm, propelling you forward with no regard for your position. They flinch, their eyes peeking up at you from beneath their helmet of curls, and you quickly draw your hand back. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_13'}

The thought is ridiculous, of course. You heal. That’s your job. You do not treat a patient differently just because they are familiar, or because they need reassurance, or because… gosh, their eyes are pretty. You stand and reach forward. Your hand moves before you have time to think, to stop, to question *what* you are doing. You pat their head, the thick curls pushing back against your fingers. “There, there,” you say. There, there? What is that? *What are you doing?!* They flinch, their eyes peeking up at you from beneath their helmet of curls, and you quickly draw your hand back. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_13'}

Their lot in life is guaranteed to be more difficult than any other. Constantly bending back and forth over the pits takes its toll. Older burners have a permanent stoop to their gait. And they can be considered the lucky ones. Most burners do not live that long. This burner deserves whatever kindness you can give them. You stand and reach forward. Your hand moves before you have time to think, to stop, to question *what* you are doing. You pat their head, the thick curls pushing back against your fingers. “There, there,” you say. There, there? What is that? *What are you doing?!* They flinch, their eyes peeking up at you from beneath their helmet of curls, and you quickly draw your hand back. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_13'}

You’ve had more than enough interaction with other workers, thank you very much. Whatever sympathy you feel for this burner is exactly the same as you would feel for any patient. They are no different. You will not speak again. You will not. No. {embed passage: 'Chapter2_13'}

You grab a clean bandage and start dressing their wound, studying them as you work. Their shoulders are starting to relax and they do not seem as uncomfortable, so the ointment must be working. But they are still afraid, skittish, their eyes darting about the room, sometimes flickering in your direction. They look uncertain, lost. Workers don’t usually look like this. Quiet, certainly. Scared, always when there is a guard nearby. But confused? Never. Everyone has a purpose, a cog in The City, a reason to exist. This disconnect is new, and it is a feeling you are starting to become more and more keenly aware of in yourself. You don't take note of other workers, much less recognize one from the rest. Yet in just a few days you have met and can perfectly recall three separate workers. It’s a strange state to be in. [[And it all began with *this* worker.->Chapter2_14]]

Your mind drifts back to the horror of the execution the other night. Your job is to save lives. This burner had to take one. “I sorry,” you whisper. The burner pins you with their gaze, their fingers trembling as you work to finish the binding. “For lesson,” you explain a little more loudly, frustrated with the inability to voice your thoughts. “I sorry you there. Sorry you work. You brave.” The burner’s lips part and they let out a small sound, something between a wheeze and a groan. Their shoulders tense again but it is not with the same wariness as before. This time it’s more expectant, as if you are both poised on the edge of something new and nameless and significant. You are the one to break the moment. You stand and gesture to the door. “Done now.” You notice the sky outside the window. The sun is starting to drop behind the mountains and the color of the sky shifts from bright orange to a mottled tan. “Meal now,” you add. The burner stands and moves to leave the room, stopping in the doorway and looking at you over their shoulder. Something passes over their expression. Their eyes focus and the corners of their mouth creep upward. It’s not a smile, not quite, but you smile in return nonetheless. They nod as if satisfied and walk away. That evening you return to the feeding station once more... [[...this time for the meal.->Chapter2_15]]

You are part of the crowd, a hammering drone of footsteps as workers leave their job sites and head en masse to the feeding station. It is a steady rhythm that should be familiar. You swivel your head, your eyes noting differences you never paid attention to before. The textures of hair, some thick and fixed, others thin and cascading around the head and shoulders. Beneath the layers of dust you see brown and ivory skin tones and shades in between. Eyes are difficult to see with everyone’s head bowed, but those you can make out are just as varied. At the station, several feeders portion the stew into individual bowls and set them on the long table for the remaining feeders to distribute. When it is time to get in line for your food, you discreetly scan the faces of the feeders. You see the familiar blonde hair tied back, the blue eyes that shine a little more brightly than others. There’s a faint red imprint on his right cheek that wasn’t there earlier. Had he been struck? You feel a brief stab of remorse. It’s a new feeling, and not a pleasant one. You reach the front of his line and the feeder sees you. You can tell the moment he recognizes you, his eyes alight and his posture straightens. He holds out the bowl and you grab it. As you do, your fingers brush his. Something flares between you, intimate and familiar. It is only for the briefest moment, yet the world seems to still. The clanking of the ladles and the shuffling of feet stops, his breath and yours holding, waiting. The moment is quickly gone. You leave the table with your bowl of stew, and you feel the weight of his gaze as you depart. As you look for a place to sit, two other faces stand out from the crowd—one dark and inscrutable, the other light and apprehensive. The builder sits on the ground in the center of the crowd, his legs crossed beneath him, his gaze concentrated on you. The burner sits at the edge of the crowd, their back up against a section of the station wall. You can sit near either of them, or neither. You can also sit close to the table, near the feeder. Who do you approach? (Note: While this *can* be a romance option, it doesn’t have to be. Nor does it lock you into a route.) [align left] > [[B-485, the builder.->Chapter2_15B]] > [[F-525, the feeder.->Chapter2_15F]] > [[R-793, the burner.->Chapter2_15R]] > [[No one.->Chapter2_15NoOne]]

You make your way over to the builder, stepping carefully through the workers seated about the grounds. His eyes follow your approach, pitch-dark irises glinting in the soft dusk glow, his expression indecipherable. You sit as close as possible without drawing attention. There’s a fairly wide berth between him and the closest workers. You can see several guard standing in a huddle yards away, enjoying their meal. There’s no need for them to supervise the ranks of workers; after all, who would be foolish enough to speak? You, apparently. “B-485,” you whisper, holding your bowl in front of your mouth to hide the movement of your lips. “H-313,” he says, just as softly. His voice is deep and stabilizing, bolstering your resolve. You are pleased he remembered your work number. You risk a glance around. No one seems to have heard your exchange, and the guard are blessedly still on the other side of the station. “You hurt?” you ask, nodding toward his bandaged arms. You’re curious how his wounds are healing, not pausing to think *why* you should care. “You good?” “I am doing better, thank you.” He studies you a moment, his gaze unreadable. “You are an excellent healer, one of the better ones.” [align left] > [[❤️ You know you are good, and are pleased he noticed.->Chapter2_15Bv1]] > [[💛 You feel your cheeks flush at the compliment, at the certainty in his voice.->Chapter2_15Bv2]] > [[You nod. You know you are good.->Chapter2_15Bv3]]

You move just a few steps to the right of the feeder and sit down on the edge of the nearest group of workers—close enough to remain in his line of sight but far enough removed so as to not be too conspicuous. You can see several guard standing in a huddle yards away, enjoying their meal. There’s no need for them to supervise the ranks of workers; after all, who would be foolish enough to speak? You, apparently. You study the feeder as he works, distributing the food with an efficient detachment. He doesn’t pause long with any worker, nor does his gaze linger on anyone’s face. You begin to doubt he even knows you’re there, until at last he serves the final worker in line, grabs his own bowl and calmly makes his way to you. He sits down in the sand next to you, his slender legs folded beneath him. “Sorry F-525,” you whisper, holding your bowl in front of your mouth to hide the movement of your lips. You nod your head toward his injury. “Sorry hurt.” He studies you a moment, his gaze cool yet curious. He appears unwilling to admit to anything. “No you,” he says finally, his voice cracking. He coughs, then continues. “What you number?” “H-313” you reply, pointing to yourself. You risk a glance around. No one seems to have heard your exchange, and the guard are blessedly still on the other side of the station. “You word brave. Bad. No good job." His voice is toneless, matter-of-fact. "Why?” [align left] > [[❤️ You want him to understand, to feel the same connection you do.->Chapter2_15Fv1]] > [[💛 You’re not sure why but you don't like him thinking poorly of you.->Chapter2_15Fv2]] > [[You shrug. You’ve been asking yourself the same question.->Chapter2_15Fv3]]

You make your way over to the burner, stepping carefully through the workers seated about the grounds. They keep their gaze lowered as you approach, but you can tell they are aware of you by the tense frame of their shoulders, the nervous tapping of their fingers against the rim of their bowl, the way their eyes are staring too intently at its contents. You sit as close as possible without drawing attention. There’s a fairly wide berth between them and the closest workers. You can see several guard standing in a huddle yards away, enjoying their meal. There’s no need for them to supervise the ranks of workers; after all, who would be foolish enough to speak? You, apparently. “R-793,” you whisper, holding your bowl in front of your mouth to hide the movement of your lips. From the corner of your eye you see them cast a wary gaze your way before returning to the apparently irresistible contents of their soup bowl. “How… how have… me num-ber?” they force out, their voice weak and hesitant. “Hear at lesson.” “Oh,” they answer meekly. “What you?” “H-313” you reply, pointing to yourself. You risk a glance around. No one seems to have heard your exchange, and the guard are blessedly still on the other side of the station. Looking back at the burner you realize their hands are shaking, the liquid inside the bowl sloshing gently. [align left] > [[❤️ You resist the urge to gather them in your arms.->Chapter2_15Rv1]] > [[💛 You want to help them.->Chapter2_15Rv2]] > [[You want to reassure them you mean no harm.->Chapter2_15Rv3]]

You choose not to sit near anyone. You’ve taken far too many risks in such a short time, it isn’t like you. You find a spot amidst the faceless throng and settle down to eat your stew, unaware of the brief, disappointed expressions on three particular workers. There’s comfort in the anonymity around you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. On repeat. Over and over, as if the repetition will somehow make it true. You sigh and look up at the sky as dusk settles over The City. If you were truly honest, there’s a stirring, a *want* inside you that was never there before. An itch, a hiccup, easy to ignore but impossible to cure. Like indigestion. You chuckle, then start, realizing that the workers around you are looking at you curiously. No doubt they heard you. That’s what you get for indulging in daydreams. You need to return to your old habits, banish these odd inclinations from your mind. You quickly finish your stew and place the empty bowl on the long table. As you do you find a lone guard standing at the far end of the table, watching you. He's older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. Your heart beats frantically. You need to leave. Now. You bow your head and return to the clinic, your heart in your throat. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51]]

sound.ambient.books.url: 'Audio/books.mp3' sound.ambient.books.description: 'world travel music' -- {ambient sound: 'books'} *Journal Entry 51* *Keiko and I took another look at our medical supplies today. The count isn’t looking good. She suggested we start implementing some form of population control. I could tell she was uncomfortable bringing up the idea, but she’s right. If we don’t start taking drastic measures we’re not going to be able to take care of a community this size.* *I'm also worried about our food supply. The crops are growing well, thankfully, but we don't have much livestock left. Everett joked that we'll all have to become vegetarians like him. He wasn't serious, but I'm starting to wonder if he's not far from the truth.* *Shannon suggested we start sending our hunting parties out further. Maybe we can find some wildlife past the mountains. It'd be a hard trek, though, so I don't want to force anyone. We'll ask for volunteers and see what happens.* [[Begin Chapter 3->Chapter3_01]]

“I no hurt you,” you say, trying to keep your voice comforting. You’ve learned to do a lot with your voice in just a few short days. “I want help. Friend you. You no talk, okay. I still here.” You are once again frustrated at your lack of words. Regardless, the burner seems to understand. Their hands still and their hair bobs as they take deep, long breaths. They look up and their gaze shifts to something behind you. Their eyes grow alarmingly wide before dropping to stare intensely at the floor. You turn and look over your shoulder. A lone guard stands at the edge of the table, watching you. He's older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. Your heart beats frantically in your chest, the sound so loud in your ears you fear everyone can hear it. You force yourself to calmly finish the rest of your soup. The workers surrounding you begin to stand. The meal is finishing and it’s time to sleep. You return your empty bowl to the end of the table furthest from the guard, making sure to keep your gaze lowered all the while. You make your way back to the clinic, your heart in your throat. [[Begin Chapter Three->Journal51]]

It’s such a strange, inappropriate impulse that it leaves you rattled, your own breath a little shaken. Instead, you scoot to the side, placing your body as a barrier between them and everyone else. “I no hurt you,” you say, trying to keep your voice comforting. You’ve learned to do a lot with your voice in just a few short days. “I want help. Friend you. You no talk, okay. I still here.” You are once again frustrated at your lack of words. Regardless, the burner seems to understand. Their hands still and their hair bobs as they take deep, long breaths. They look up and realize what you have done, effectively sheltering them from the rest of the station. It seems to have worked, for their gaze softens and they lift their chin higher. They fix their eyes on you, one a vivid green, the other a sandy brown, and both luminous. They open their mouth to speak when their gaze shifts to something behind you. Their eyes grow alarmingly wide before dropping to stare intensely at the floor. You turn and look over your shoulder. A lone guard stands at the edge of the table, watching you. He's older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. Your heart beats frantically in your chest, the sound so loud in your ears you fear everyone can hear it. You know the burner will only feed off your anxiety, so you force yourself to stay calm. You face forward again, blocking their view of the guard. They risk a glance up at you. Knowing the guard can’t see them or your face, you smile encouragingly. The burner’s small face breaks into a relieved smile—brilliant, dazzling, making everything worth it. You calmly finish the rest of your soup. The workers surrounding you begin to stand. The meal is finishing and it’s time to sleep. You return your empty bowl to the end of the table furthest from the guard, making sure to keep your gaze lowered all the while. You make your way back to the clinic, your heart in your throat. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51]]

You shuffle back a little, giving them some space. “I no hurt you,” you say, trying to keep your voice comforting. You’ve learned to do a lot with your voice in just a few short days. “I want help. Friend you. You no talk, okay. I still here.” You are once again frustrated at your lack of words. Regardless, the burner seems to understand. Their hands still and their hair bobs as they take deep, long breaths. They look up and their gaze shifts to something behind you. Their eyes grow alarmingly wide before dropping to stare intensely at the floor. You turn and look over your shoulder. A lone guard stands at the edge of the table, watching you. He's older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. Your heart beats frantically in your chest, the sound so loud in your ears you fear everyone can hear it. You know the burner will only feed off your anxiety, so you force yourself to stay calm. You face forward again and shift slightly to the left, shielding the burner from view. They risk a glance up at you. Knowing the guard can’t see them or your face, you smile encouragingly. The burner’s small face breaks into a relieved smile—brilliant, dazzling, making everything worth it. You calmly finish the rest of your soup. The workers surrounding you begin to stand. The meal is finishing and it’s time to sleep. You return your empty bowl to the end of the table furthest from the guard, making sure to keep your gaze lowered all the while. You make your way back to the clinic, your heart in your throat. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51]]

“I need speak,” you answer haltingly, trying to articulate the elusive feeling you’ve been harboring ever since the lesson. “Word no bad, no wrong. Must be good. Help you, help me.” You peer at him, trying to convey with your eyes what you can’t with your words. He makes a tsk noise, his tongue against his teeth. “Speak, get hurt. You stay safe.” For someone who supposedly never spoke, he's actually quite good at it, all things considered. He isn’t as articulate as the builder, but he doesn't appear uncomfortable using his voice, either. “You talk, too,” you chide. Your voice sounds lighter to your ears, more teasing. You like the control you’re starting to have over it. “You talk me. No bad. We friend, yes?” His brow crinkles and he looks confused. He studies you a moment longer, then he glances at the crowd. The workers surrounding you begin to stand. The meal is over and it’s time to sleep. He moves as if to stand and you feel a compulsion, an urgent need to keep him near. In a bold, brilliant fit of poor judgment, you grab his wrist and tug. He falls forward, bracing his arm to catch himself from crashing into you and effectively boxing you in on one side. You feel his breath on your neck, his pulse quickening beneath your fingers. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, fast and frantic, a sharp contrast to the stillness in the figure leaning over you. The feeder’s eyes have darkened to a rich cobalt and you find you can not turn away. A long, wavy strand of pale hair has fallen loose from his ponytail and hangs partially over his eyes. You have the ridiculous urge to reach forward and tuck it behind his ear. He’s suddenly too near, too real. You realize you’re still holding tightly to his wrist and you let go as if the touch burns. You scamper awkwardly to your feet, throw your bowl onto the nearby table, and turn to leave. As you do you find a lone guard standing at the far end of the table, watching you. He's older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. Your heart beats frantically and you’re unsure whether it’s from the threat of the guard or a remnant of the feeder’s body over yours. Either way, you know you need to leave. Now. You turn without a backward glance at the feeder and head for the safety of the clinic. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51]]

“I need speak,” you answer haltingly, trying to articulate the elusive feeling you’ve been harboring ever since the lesson. “Word no bad, no wrong. Must be good. Help you, help me.” He makes a tsk noise, his tongue against his teeth. “Speak, get hurt. You stay safe.” For someone who supposedly never spoke, he's actually quite good at it, all things considered. He isn’t as articulate as the builder, but he doesn't appear uncomfortable using his voice, either. “You talk, too,” you chide. Your voice sounds lighter to your ears, more teasing. You like the control you’re starting to have over it. “You talk me. No bad. We friend, yes?” His brow crinkles and he looks confused. He studies you a moment longer, then he glances at the crowd. The workers surrounding you begin to stand. The meal is over and it’s time to sleep. The feeder reaches for your bowl and you hand it over. He stands and brings them back to the long table while you get up to leave. As you do you find a lone guard standing at the far end of the table, watching you. He's older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. Your heart beats frantically. You need to leave. Now. You turn without a backward glance at the feeder and head for the safety of the clinic. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51]]

“I need speak,” you answer haltingly, trying to articulate the elusive feeling you’ve been harboring ever since the lesson. “Word no bad, no wrong. Must be good. Help you, help me.” You peer at him, trying to convey with your eyes what you can’t with your words. He makes a tsk noise, his tongue against his teeth. “Speak, get hurt. You stay safe.” For someone who supposedly never spoke, he's actually quite good at it, all things considered. He isn’t as articulate as the builder, but he doesn't appear uncomfortable using his voice, either. “You talk, too,” you chide. Your voice sounds lighter to your ears, more teasing. You like the control you’re starting to have over it. “You talk me. No bad. We friend, yes?” His brow crinkles and he looks confused. He studies you a moment longer, then he glances at the crowd. The workers surrounding you begin to stand. The meal is over and it’s time to sleep. The feeder reaches for your bowl to return it to the table, his long fingers trailing against your wrist as you hand it over. You would have thought the touch an accident if not for the bold, electrifying way his fingers linger on your pulse for a beat. Two beats. Three. The feeder’s eyes have darkened to a rich cobalt and you find you can not turn away. A long, wavy strand of pale hair has fallen loose from his ponytail and hangs partially over his eyes. You have the ridiculous urge to reach forward and tuck it behind his ear. It seems an eternity before he releases you. When he brings the bowls back to the table, you get up to leave. As you do you find a lone guard standing at the far end of the table, watching you. He's older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. Your heart beats frantically and you’re unsure whether it’s from the threat of the guard or a remnant of the feeder’s caress. Either way, you know you need to leave. Now. You turn without a backward glance at the feeder and head for the safety of the clinic. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51]]

Most healers apprentice for at least two, if not three years before they take their own room. You caught on very quickly, and in less than a year had your own room and patients. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at him. He unfolds one leg and leans against his knee. He’s closer now, his other knee grazing against yours. You start to draw away, but he shifts forward and touches your arm, the touch brief but firm. “Do not move, a guard is watching us.” You keep your head down but dare to raise your eyes. Over his shoulder you see a guard, older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. How the builder knew he was behind him you have no idea, but you do as he says and lower your gaze. Your heart is beating frantically and you’re not sure whether it’s from the threat of the guard or the builder now sitting extremely close. He smells of sand and sweat and something else, something tangy and earthen. You risk another glance at him, only to find his gaze on you. His eyes are dark, darker than usual. When he catches your eye his expression shifts, the rigidness slipping away to something earnest, something wanting. You raise the bowl to your lips and continue eating, forcing all your attention on the tasteless grub and away from both the guard and the handsome builder. This is not a safe place for such thoughts. His gaze follows the bowl to your lips, lingering there. You lick your lips and his gaze darkens further, acute, wolfish. You shiver, both delighted and terrified at his expression. The other workers begin to stand, breaking you out of your trance. The meal is finishing and it’s time to sleep. The two of you stand together and bring your bowls back to the long table. “Good night, my healer,” he whispers, his voice thicker than before. Then he turns and walks to the barracks. You make your way back to the clinic, your heart in your throat. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51B]]

Most healers apprentice for at least two, if not three years before they take their own room. You caught on very quickly, and in less than a year had your own room and patients. You start to open your mouth but he interrupts you. “Do not move, a guard is watching.” You keep your head down but dare to raise your eyes. Over his shoulder you see a guard, older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. How the builder knew he was behind him you have no idea, but you do as he says and lower your gaze. You raise your bowl to your lips and continue eating, forcing all your attention on the tasteless grub and away from both the builder and guard. This is not a safe place for conversation. You notice the other workers around you begin to stand. The meal is finishing and it’s time to sleep. The two of you stand together and bring your bowls back to the long table. “Good night, H-313,” the builder whispers, then turns and walks to the barracks. You make your way back to the clinic. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51]]

Most healers apprentice for at least two, if not three years before they take their own room. You caught on very quickly, and in less than a year had your own room and patients. “Thank you,” you reply, your words ending on a sigh. He unfolds one leg and leans against his knee. He’s closer now, his other knee grazing against yours. You start to draw away, but he shifts forward and touches your arm, the touch brief but firm. “Do not move, a guard is watching.” You keep your head down but dare to raise your eyes. Over his shoulder you see a guard, older than most, though still able-bodied. His expression is hidden beneath a thick grey and brown beard, but his {eye_color} eyes are leveled pointedly on you. How the builder knew he was behind him, you have no idea, but you do as he says and lower your gaze. Your heart is beating frantically and you’re unsure whether it’s from the threat of the guard or the builder now sitting extremely close. He smells of sand and sweat and something else, something tangy and earthen. You risk another glance at him, only to find his gaze on you. His eyes are dark, darker than usual. When he catches your eye his expression shifts, the rigidness slipping away to something earnest, something wanting. You raise the bowl to your lips and continue eating, forcing all your attention on the tasteless grub and away from both the guard and the handsome builder. This is not a safe place for such thoughts. You don’t see the way his gaze follows the bowl to your lips, lingering there, his eyes darkening further. You notice the other workers around you begin to stand. The meal is finishing and it’s time to sleep. The two of you stand together and bring your bowls back to the long table. “Good night, my healer,” he whispers, his voice thicker than before. Then he turns and walks to the barracks. You make your way back to the clinic, your heart in your throat. [[Begin Chapter 3->Journal51B]]

~~Chapter 3~~ The next day you shuffle down the stairs with the rest of the healers just as the guard are delivering the water. You discreetly scan their faces, relieved not to find the bushy bearded one among them. You half expected to be woken up and dragged to the circle in the middle of the night, and only now do you allow yourself to breathe easier. The respite is short lived, however, when builder B-485 strolls into your room a moment later. Actually strolls. He doesn’t appear injured or cautious at all and your mouth drops open at the sight. “Why you here?” you squeak, your voice pitched higher than normal. His expression remains carefully neutral but you get the distinct impression he’s laughing at you. “I am on my way to the worksite but I wanted to speak to you first,” he says calmly, as if that was just the sort of thing anyone actually did. “Come to the circle tonight, after the sun goes down and the others have gone to bed.” You blink. Words are new to you, yes, but you feel fairly confident you can understand them. But the words he is stringing together are utter nonsense. “No!” you stammer. His expression doesn’t change which only confounds you further. “No go circle. Bad! Guard see you, you hurt. You no-” “Do you still want to learn to speak as I do?” His words silence you. You want to say no, it’s too dangerous. If you were caught out at night you would certainly be executed. And yet… “Yes.” The word leaves your lips in a rush—short, fervent, and far too weighty. [[“Then I shall see you tonight.”->Chapter3_02]]

The day passes in a blur, as if you are caught in one of the infrequent sandstorms that wash over the valley and you can’t make out which way is up. You can barely concentrate on your patients. You trip over the leg of the cot, dragging you and the child on it to the floor. Another time you drop a vial, shattering it, then stab your finger clumsily picking up the pieces. You wrap the wrong arm of a sweeper, then mumble sorry while you unwrap it and redo the correct one. You’re pretty sure she leaves thinking you mad. All you can think about is your upcoming meeting with the builder. When night falls you follow the other healers upstairs. You climb into your cot and lay there, listening to the others. Eventually the rustling of bodies stops, breathing evens out, someone snores. You push back the blanket and tiptoe out of bed, your movements painstakingly slow and careful. You make your way down the stairs just as slowly, your feet silent on the clay steps. Eventually you creep out into the cold, still night. From where you stand you can see the glow of the fire pit in the circle. You hug your arms close to your body. The City is always colder at night, though it’s made worse by the gravity of your situation. You stand in the dark, shivering, questioning every decision that brought you to this moment. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, then step forward into the night. You keep to the shadows, moving from one building to another. The guard do not usually patrol The City at night. Why would they, when no one ever thought to disobey? Still, you can’t be too careful. Finally, you reach a narrow alley between two single-story buildings. You flatten yourself against the nearest one, the clay wall now cooled by the soft breeze coming in over the mountains. You cautiously peek around the corner. Outlined by the light of the fire in the neighboring pit, the circle looms about twenty yards away. Other than the burner guarding the fire - not your burner, you note wistfully - the circle was deserted. “Healer H-313.” [align left] > [[You whirl around and punch out blindly.->Chapter3_02v1]] > [[You whirl around, clamping a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.->Chapter3_02v2]]

The day passes in a blur, as if you are caught in one of the infrequent sandstorms that wash over the valley and you can’t make out which way is up. You can barely concentrate on your patients. You trip over the leg of the cot, dragging you and the child on it to the floor. Another time you drop a vial, shattering it, then stab your finger clumsily picking up the pieces. You wrap the wrong arm of a sweeper, then mumble sorry while you unwrap it and redo the correct one. You’re pretty sure she leaves thinking you mad. All you can think about is your upcoming meeting with the builder. When night falls you follow the other healers upstairs. You climb into your cot and lay there, listening to the others. Eventually the rustling of bodies stops, breathing evens out, someone snores. You push back the blanket and tiptoe out of bed, your movements painstakingly slow and careful. You make your way down the stairs just as slowly, your feet silent on the clay steps. Eventually you creep out into the cold, still night. From where you stand you can see the glow of the fire pit in the circle. You hug your arms close to your body. The City is always colder at night, though it’s made worse by the gravity of your situation. You stand in the dark, shivering, questioning every decision that brought you to this moment. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, then step forward into the night. You keep to the shadows, moving from one building to another. The guard do not usually patrol The City at night. Why would they, when no one ever thought to disobey? Still, you can’t be too careful. Finally, you reach a narrow alley between two single-story buildings. You flatten yourself against the nearest one, the clay wall now cooled by the soft breeze coming in over the mountains. You cautiously peek around the corner. Outlined by the light of the fire in the neighboring pit, the circle looms about twenty yards away. Other than the burner guarding the fire - not your burner, you note wistfully - the circle was deserted. “My healer.” [align left] > [[You whirl around and punch out blindly.->Chapter3_02v1B]] > [[You whirl around and a hand clamps over your mouth before you can cry out.->Chapter3_02v2B]]

Your fist collides with something fleshy yet surprisingly firm, and you hear a grunt. You can’t make out his features, but you’d recognize that voice anywhere. {embed passage: 'Chapter3_03'}

Standing in the shadows a few feet away is your builder. You can’t make out his face in the dark, but you recognize his form. And you’d recognize his voice anywhere. {embed passage: 'Chapter3_03'}

“B-485, you scare me!” You exhale softly, trying to catch your breath. “My apologies,” he replies. He steps forward and you can make out his face. He looks relieved. “You really came, I was not sure you would.” He steps out of the shadows, gesturing for you to follow. “Wait.” With one hand you grasp his sleeve, pointing toward the circle with the other. “Burner see.” Understanding your concern, the builder shakes his head. “Do not worry about him. His duty is to watch the fire, nothing more. He pays no attention to what goes on outside that pit.” That would be sad if true, though you’re grateful to remain unnoticed. Still, you keep a firm grip on the builder’s sleeve as he leads you toward the circle. You stop in front of the narrow steps leading up to the circle and the builder gestures you to one side. Then he hunkers down, braces his shoulder against the steps and pushes. He digs his feet into the earth and you can see the muscles in his arms stretching. There is a faint grating noise as the staircase rubs against the stone platform, but it lasts a mere second. You shift your gaze to the burner but, just as your builder said, he remains unmoving with his back to you, aware of nothing. You look back at the builder and blink in surprise. As the small staircase moves, a narrow hole is revealed between the ground and the stone platform. You can barely make out a second set of stone steps leading down, disappearing into shadow after the third step. When the opening is a little more than shoulder width, the builder stops. He stands, breathing heavily, and holds his hand out to you. [align left] > [[You grasp it firmly.->Chapter3_04v1]] > [[You grasp it nervously.->Chapter3_04v2]] > [[You ignore his outstretched hand, choosing instead to brave the dark passage on your own.->Chapter3_04v3]] > [[You ignore his outstretched hand and wave him forward, the darkness in the stairwell unnerving.->Chapter3_04v4]]

hasHandFirmStat: true hasHandNervousStat: false hasNoHandFirmStat: false hasNoHandNervousStat: false -- You follow the builder down the first few steps, one hand in his, the other bracing against the wall. It’s gritty but cool to the touch. The air is tighter in here, heavier, but not so bad that you can’t breath. He stops you at about the sixth step. “Wait.” He releases your hand and turns back toward the top of the stairs. That’s when you realize the steps he pushed aside were hollow. He grasps the edge on the open under side and slides them back into place, though not all the way—he leaves a small groove between the steps and the platform. A handhold so you can climb back out later. You face forward again and find only darkness. “B-485?” “I am here.” You feel his hand in yours and you tighten your grip. You continue your trek down into the darkness. Squinting your eyes you think you see the stairwell widen further down, and a number of shadows where the darkness ebbs and bends. Eventually, you step onto level ground and realize you have come to the base of the stairs. The builder squeezes your hand briefly, then releases it. You can hear the quiet shuffle of his feet as he moves off to the left. You still can’t see a thing and it’s beginning to worry you. [[You open your mouth to say so when you hear a sharp *hiss*.->Chapter3_05]]

Your fist collides with something fleshy yet surprisingly firm, and you hear a grunt. A large hand closes over your own and spins you about. You find yourself with your back pressed against the builder’s chest, his other arm encircling your waist, his breath hot against your neck. “Easy, my brave healer,” he rumbles. There is laughter in his voice but also something raw and dangerous. You stop struggling immediately. His scent fills your nostrils and you become vaguely aware of the sensation of his gritty skin against yours where your shirt has risen slightly. You wiggle out of his arms and he lets you go. {embed passage: 'Chapter3_03'}

You claw at the fingers but another hand grabs you about the waist and tugs you forward. You hear a deep voice close to your ear, soothing and dizzyingly familiar. “Shh, be still, my healer. It is only me.” You stop struggling immediately. His scent fills your nostrils and you become vaguely aware of the sensation of his gritty skin against yours where your shirt has risen slightly. You wiggle out of his arms and he lets you go. {embed passage: 'Chapter3_03'}

A tiny speck of light flares to your left, and the figure of the builder appears framed in the darkness. In his hand is a small piece of wood no larger than your smallest finger, and at the top burns a small flame. The light of the fire brightens the area around you, and you can now see a wooden table propped against the wall beside the stairwell. The builder leans down and touches the burning wood to a white cylindrical object on top of the table. You’ve never seen the like—it’s made of neither wood, glass, clay, nor stone. The base of the object is smooth but the top is craggy, as if it had melted and dried. The flame passes from the small stick to the large white one, growing as it does till its light penetrates the remaining shadows. Taking the object in both hands, the builder walks about the space, illuminating the scene before you. You're in a moderately sized circular room made of the same brown stone as the circle. There are eight thin, rectangular windows in the stone walls high above your head. You start, realizing they are the same mysterious holes around the base of the circle. You are now directly beneath it. Attached to the wall beneath and between each window are unfamiliar, claw-like contraptions. They seem to be made of the same glinting grey material as the bell above ground. In each claw is a white cylinder, similar to the one the builder carries. He walks from one to another, passing the flame to each till they’re all lit and the rest of the room is bathed in a dancing golden light. And that’s when you see a large… something, in the middle of the room. Wait, it’s not a single *thing* at all. There are three large piles, each about waist high, made of solid box-like objects. Some are thin like your shelves, others as thick as a beam of wood. Some are square-shaped, some rectangular, as small as your hand or as long as your arm. You step around the builder and draw close to one of the piles, eager for a closer look. The outside of the nearest box seems to be made of a hard, leathery material, flat and well worn. As you pick it up it splits open, like a cloth unfolding. Inside are dozens, possibly hundreds of yellowed cloths, each as thin as a strand of hair, and all seem to be bound to one side of the box. You flip through them and they make a dry crackling sound as you do. There’s something on them—uneven black lines that vary in length. You turn and hold the object up for the builder to see. “What?” you ask. “That is a book.” [align left] > [[You yelp and drop the book. You have heard of the evil things, the council forbids them!->Chapter3_05v1]] > [[You stare at it in wonder. You have heard of books but never seen one, the council forbids them.->Chapter3_05v2]]

You look down at the inert object as if it is a sand scorpion. Books are to be burned on sight. Every now and then a digger will unearth one. They are to be handed off to the sweepers immediately to take them to the pits. You've never seen a book yourself, but you have seen the wounds inflicted on workers who did not turn them over. You turn to regard the hundreds, thousands of books around you, the monumental sin in this room, and you start to tremble. “I no… no see,” you say to the builder. He watches you intently, his face betraying nothing. “Book bad, council say no.” “The council has forbidden many things, and their reasons for doing so are not for our good, that is certain.” The builder’s tone is clipped, angry. He bends to retrieve the fallen manuscript. {embed passage: 'Chapter3_06'}

Books are to be burned on sight. Every now and then the diggers will unearth one. They are to be handed off to the sweepers immediately to take them to the pits. You've never seen a book yourself, but you have seen the wounds inflicted on workers who did not turn them over. “Book.” You repeat the word, tracing your fingers over the cover. The builder watches you intently, his face betraying nothing. “I no see. Council say no, book bad.” “The council has forbidden many things, and their reasons for doing so are not for our good, that is certain.” The builder’s tone is clipped, angry. He holds his large hand out to you and you place the manuscript in it. {embed passage: 'Chapter3_06'}

The builder runs his hand over the book’s cover and when he speaks next, his tone is gentle, almost reverent. “Books are no more evil than you or I. The council forbids them because they fear what we may learn, what we may do with that knowledge. It is the same reason they forbid us to speak. I do not care much for the council, nor their so-called laws.” He pulls two small crates from beneath the table and sits down on one, gesturing you toward the other. “I am sure you have many questions. [["Please, ask.”->Chapter3_07]]

[align left] > [["How find?"->Chapter3_07v1]] > [[“You see word book?”->Chapter3_07v2]] > [[“This why you word good?”->Chapter3_07v3]] > [[“You no scare?”->Chapter3_07v4]] > [[You have no more questions.->Chapter3_08]]

His dark eyes crease in sadness. “The digger, my friend, the one from the lesson—he brought me here. One day he was trenching a site close to ours. A scaffolding broke and would have crushed me if he had not noticed the danger and saved me. That was the day I received this." He points to the scar on the left side of his face. "He spoke to me that day. It was the first time I had ever heard words in full sentences. Eventually, he brought me here. He told me there had been others before him. They and he gathered many of the books here, keeping them safe from the council and their fires.” "Others?" He nods. “There were others before the digger, people I have never met. They had passed on by the time I arrived; the digger did not tell me how and I did not want to pry." His next words surprise you. "I was not the last worker he brought here, either. There are two others that know of this place: another digger, D-661, and a female weaver, V-741. The girl is rather shy and the digger does not speak at all, too institutionalized, I imagine.” His lips curl upward in a half-smile, the act softening his sharp features. “They do not come here as often as I, but you may meet them, if you wish.” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

“Are you asking if I can read?” You nod. “I can. I have read not all, but many of the books here. There is knowledge and strength in these books.” He looks about the room, his gaze wistful. “These were written by people just like us, in a better place and time. There is so much we can learn from them—not just about those people and their era, but about ourselves.” He holds up the book and smiles. “I can teach you to read, if you would like. Though that lesson must hold for another day.” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

It’s a lot to take in—the hidden room, the books, the opportunity to read and speak correctly. You feel {cycling link for: 'state', choices: ['excited', 'hopeful', 'angry', 'uncertain', 'scared']}. [[Next->Chapter3_9]]

He shrugs. “I learned to speak the same way as you, by listening. Some of it came from the guard, though I realize now that the council and their guard have butchered our language. Most of what I learned I picked up from the digger, his expressions and such.” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

“I was at first, of course I was. When the digger first brought me here, I swore to myself I would never return. I know how difficult it is to act against rules you have followed your whole life, to suddenly find yourself questioning everything. It is terrifying, confusing, exhausting.” His gaze softens as his eyes meet yours. “But it does not have to be lonely.” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

~~Chapter 4~~ Everything looks different this morning. The valley is brighter, the faces around you are clearer, the texture of the walls finer. You look down at your hands. Even you feel different, more distinct. Present. You notice the cut on your finger from yesterday. Oh yes, the broken glass. You had hastily pushed the pieces aside, but they need to be properly disposed of. That means a visit to the pits. You carefully place the pieces of broken glass in your bag and make your way out. The pits are on the side of The City farthest from you, so you have a bit of a walk ahead of you. The only thing further is the wall. You've never touched it, few workers have any reason to travel so far. But you can always see it, the tall stone edifice looming in the distance. You gaze about discreetly as you walk, studying the landscape in a way you hadn’t before. You pass the workshop first, a sprawling, multi-level building where the weavers work. Here, cotton from the fields is spun into fabric and woven into blankets and clothes for the workers. Anything that can be salvaged, is—when a worker dies their clothes are repaired and reused. Your own attire is a motley assortment of sashes, patches, and various layers of grey, brown, yellow, and orange fabrics. [[The sand makes an excellent dye.->Chapter4_02]]

The builder's eyes narrow, his expression sharpening into something intense and deliberate, pinning you to your seat. “There are now four of us that know of this place, healer. That is four lives on the line." He gestures toward the openings overhead. "The guard do not patrol at night and no one is around to see the candlelight through the windows. We are safe as long as this room remains a secret. Swear you will tell no one.” Unbidden, the faces of two particular workers come to mind. You would like to bring them here, but that’s probably a conversation best saved for another time. “I swear.” The builder relaxes immediately, his expression becoming one of relief. “Thank you for understanding.” He glances up at the windows. “It is time we get back. We can return tomorrow night, if you want?” “I want.” The builder nods and stands up. He circles the room, blowing out the fire atop each of the white cylinders as he passes. You stand and push the crates back under the table. Finally, the last flame remaining is the one on the table beside you. As he approaches your side you lean down and blow it out, bathing the room in darkness. You make your way slowly up the stairs, feeling your way along the wall. The builder reaches the stairs first and pulls them back, then steps aside so you can climb out. You keep your eyes fixed on the still unmoving burner as the builder pushes the staircase noiselessly back into place. “Tomorrow night, then,” he says, his voice laden with promise. He turns and melts into the shadows of the surrounding buildings as if he had never been there. You crane your neck to look at the sky above. Your eyes strain to pierce the haze of dust, searching for… for what? Possibilities? Something bigger? You shake your head, too many thoughts to sort through now. You need to sleep. You duck between the buildings and quickly make your way back to the clinic. [[Begin Chapter 4->Journal72]]

You don’t know what you were expecting when you agreed to meet the builder tonight, but it wasn’t this. *This is better.* You know you are meant for this. Something has been pulling you toward this moment and you are excited to explore this new world opening before you. You do not fear the council and their guard. You intend to learn everything—about books, about the builder, about The City and why it is the way it is. [[You will not waste this opportunity.->Chapter3_10]]

This is so much bigger than what you were expecting, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. If you learn to speak and read, maybe you can help others. Perhaps it would even help you be a better healer. Something has been pulling you toward this moment and you are determined to see it through. Maybe you will learn more about the builder, about the world before The City, about why things are the way they are. [[What other secrets will you unearth?->Chapter3_10]]

[if state === 'excited'] {embed passage: 'Chapter3_excite'} [if state === 'hopeful'] {embed passage: 'Chapter3_hope'} [if state === 'angry'] {embed passage: 'Chapter3_angry'} [if state === 'uncertain'] {embed passage: 'Chapter3_uncertain'} [if state === 'scared'] {embed passage: 'Chapter3_scare'}

gender_1stPronoun: 'insert pronoun' gender_1stPronoun (gender === 'woman'): 'woman' gender_1stPronoun (gender === 'man'): 'man' gender_1stPronoun (gender === 'worker'): 'worker' gender_2ndPronoun (gender === 'woman'): 'she' gender_2ndPronoun (gender === 'man'): 'he' gender_2ndPronoun (gender === 'worker'): 'they' gender_3rdPronoun (gender === 'woman'): 'her' gender_3rdPronoun (gender === 'man'): 'him' gender_3rdPronoun (gender === 'worker'): 'them' gender_4thPronoun (gender === 'woman'): 'her' gender_4thPronoun (gender === 'man'): 'his' gender_4thPronoun (gender === 'worker'): 'their' gender_5thPronoun (gender === 'woman'): 'daughter' gender_5thPronoun (gender === 'man'): 'son' gender_5thPronoun (gender === 'worker'): 'child' -- You are a {gender_1stPronoun} and you identify as {gender_2ndPronoun}. [if gender === 'woman'] {embed passage: 'Chapter2_01vF'} [if gender === 'man'] {embed passage: 'Chapter2_01vM'} [if gender === 'worker'] {embed passage: 'Chapter2_01vNB'}

You never thought twice about your identity as a female; that is, until it was your turn in the chamber. Upon reaching 20 years of age, every worker has to go to the chamber. There they are paired with a worker of the opposite sex - of the council's choosing - to ensure the next generation of workers. What happened in there was cold, uncomfortable, and you do your best to forget it. You didn't conceive, a fact you're not sure whether to be grateful for or saddened by. Regardless, it means one day you will have to go back. [[Next->Chapter2_01v1]]

You never thought twice about your identity as a male; that is, until it was your turn in the chamber. Upon reaching 20 years of age, every worker has to go to the chamber. There they are paired with a worker of the opposite sex - of the council's choosing - to ensure the next generation of workers. What happened in there was cold, uncomfortable, and you do your best to forget it. You don't know whether the act produced a child, so there's a chance you'll have to go back one day. [[Next->Chapter2_01v1]]

As a healer you are not limited to a specific hairstyle as others are. As long as it does not interfere with your duties, any length is permitted. You choose to wear your {cycling link for: 'hair_color', choices: ['blonde', 'red', 'auburn', 'light brown', 'dark brown', 'black']}, {cycling link for: 'hair_texture', choices: ['straight', 'wavy', 'curly', 'tightly curled', 'coiled']} locks {cycling link for: 'hairstyle', choices: ['shaved', 'cropped short above your ears', 'short to your chin', 'medium to your shoulders', 'long, past your shoulders', 'in a ponytail', 'in a braid', 'in multiple braids']}. You roll your sleeves up before washing your hands, but you pause when you see the scar on the underside of your left arm above your wrist. You received it when you were still a child in the nursery. It was your first lesson from the guard—when you learned how dangerous it was to speak out against them, even when, *especially when*, it was in defense of another child. [[You learned to obey very quickly after that.->Chapter2_02]]

The more you think about the knowledge, the potential in this room, the angrier you get. How dare the council keep all this a secret? How dare they forbid you from reading, from speaking? You begin to feel angry at yourself, too. Angry for permitting it. You know you are meant for this. Something has been pulling you toward this moment and you are determined to see it through. You intend to learn everything—about books, about the builder, about The City and why it is the way it is. [[And you will never be silent again.->Chapter3_10]]

You don’t know what you were expecting when you agreed to meet the builder tonight, but it wasn’t this. You weren't prepared to learn about books, much less be presented with the possibility of reading one. You are a mere worker, you never had to think such big thoughts. And yet, you don't feel as if you have much of a choice. You've already come this far, you may as well continue. [[You are wary of what you have started.->Chapter3_10v1]]

You don’t know what you were expecting when you agreed to meet the builder tonight, but it wasn’t this. You weren't prepared to learn about books, much less be presented with the possibility of reading one. You are a mere worker, you never had to think such big thoughts. You feel helpless, like a weed caught in a sandstorm and pulled along a path you aren't prepared for. You want to learn more—about books, about him, maybe even why The City is the way it is. [[But the idea *terrifies* you.->Chapter3_10v1]]

The builder's eyes narrow, his expression sharpening into something intense and deliberate, pinning you to your seat. “There are now four of us that know of this place, healer. That is four lives on the line." He gestures toward the openings overhead. "The guard do not patrol at night and no one is around to see the candlelight through the windows. We are safe as long as this room remains a secret. Swear you will tell no one.” “I swear.” The builder relaxes immediately, his expression becoming one of relief. “Thank you for understanding.” He glances up at the windows. “It is time we get back. We can return tomorrow night, if you want?” “I-" Your hands grip tightly to the crate beneath you and you stare about the room. The builder notices your reluctance. "You do not have to if you do not want, but I would very much like the opportunity to speak with you more. We do not have to read, just get to know each other a little better. Perhaps that will help you decide what you want to do." You nod, that seems a good compromise. The builder stands and circles the room, blowing out the fire atop each of the white cylinders as he passes. You stand and push the crates back under the table. Finally, the last flame remaining is the one on the table beside you. As he approaches your side you lean down and blow it out, bathing the room in darkness. You make your way slowly up the stairs, feeling your way along the wall. The builder reaches the stairs first and pulls them back, then steps aside so you can climb out. You keep your eyes fixed on the still unmoving burner as the builder pushes the staircase noiselessly back into place. “Tomorrow night, then,” he says, his voice laden with promise. He turns and melts into the shadows of the surrounding buildings as if he had never been there. You crane your neck to look at the sky above. Your eyes strain to pierce the haze of dust, searching for… for what? Possibilities? Something bigger? You shake your head, too many thoughts to sort through now. You need to sleep. You duck between the buildings and quickly make your way back to the clinic. [[Begin Chapter 4->Journal72]]

...about the same height as most workers. But you barely reach to this man's shoulders.

...very rarely do you have to raise your head to look at anyone. You note with awe that this one is still slightly taller than you.

...and barely reach his chest. You have to tilt your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to look up at him.

[if height === 'short'] {embed passage: 'short'} [continue] [if height === 'average'] {embed passage: 'average'} [continue] [if height === 'tall'] {embed passage: 'tall'} [continue] He sits down and you motion for him to remove his shirt. As he does so you study his wounds. There are a number of fresh crimson bruises on his arms, shoulders, and back. One bruise sits above his left eye and the dried blood has settled in the hollow of his scar. A handful of shallow cuts are visible around his wrists and elbows, along with several healed scars. Open wounds - no matter how minor - are the most dangerous. Bruises and bumps heal well enough, but when the skin breaks, it doesn’t always end well. You’ve seen terrible fevers take a worker, or wounds festering with white or green pus, patients writhing in pain. You don’t know why it happens, only that it does. You set to work cleaning his wounds with the fresh water and a gray cloth. Between the blood and dust the cloth is quickly soiled and you exchange it for a new one. As the dried blood comes away, you can see the full extent of his injuries. The wounds are too precise to have been caused by a work accident. This male was surely beaten by a guard, probably as a lesson. Strangely, he exhibits no sign of discomfort. He sits straight, his large shoulders tense and squared. You wonder if he even feels the injuries at all. You're struck by an uncontrollable urge to ask the builder what he did. In your ten years as a healer you've tended hundreds of workers. More often than not, their wounds were purposely inflicted. Not once did you think to ask what your patients had done to deserve it. [[Even before you learned how to heal, you learned the dangers of speech.->Chapter2_04]]

You come to the barracks next. It is the widest structure in The City and two-stories tall. This is where all adult workers sleep, aside from the council, the guard, and the healers. Female workers reside on the top floor, male workers on the bottom. You’ve been inside only a handful of times when you’ve had to escort others back from the clinic. The worst part of the barracks is the smell—the scent of sweat and dirt, of hundreds of bodies crowded into a tight space. You feel relieved and also guilty for your own quarters. Beside the barracks is one of several sites around the city where the builders work. They seem to be constructing an expansion on the current barracks to accommodate more workers. Builders utilize a number of dangerous tools in their work; because of this, there are always at least half a dozen guard at each site. As much as you would like to look for your builder here, you don't dare raise your head with so many guard around. Eventually you arrive at the pits. There are a total of seven pits and five burners assigned to each. Throughout the course of the day, sweepers will bring in cart-loads of unearthed trash and refuse. It is the job of the burners to dispose of it. The air carries the smoke and ash towards the sky, mingling with the ever-present dust in a grey haze. Two guard walk lazily around the grounds, their eyes drifting aimlessly over the workers. You raise your gaze as much as you dare, looking for the familiar burner. Finally you spot them beside the left-most pit. They wait as a female sweeper with long, dark brown hair approaches with a cart. She does so slowly and awkwardly, her lithe frame hunched low over the litter. You realize then that she is limping. She stumbles and the cart teeters precariously. The burner rushes forward to help steady it, one hand on the cart and one supporting the sweeper’s elbow. [align left] > [[❤️ You feel a flash of annoyance at the way they support her.->Chapter4_03v1]] > [[You feel a quick flash of pride for the burner.->Chapter4_03v2]]

While you’re happy they’re helping the sweeper, you feel a twinge of annoyance at seeing them gently touch another. It's an uncomfortable emotion, one you're a little ashamed of feeling. You purse your lips and let out a sullen puff of air. Still... they could have just held the cart. The sweeper gives them a swift, curt nod, then stands on her own. The burner reaches into the cart and pulls out an object. [[Your heart drops when you realize it is a book.->Chapter4_04]]

Just three days ago they were hunched in a ball on your cot, timid and fearful of making eye contact. They’ve grown a lot in that short time, to be able to support the sweeper like this. It makes you happy and encouraged to see. The sweeper gives them a swift, curt nod, then stands on her own. The burner reaches into the cart and pulls out an object. [[Your heart drops when you realize it is a book.->Chapter4_04]]

[if state === 'excited'] {embed passage: 'Chapter4_05'} [if state === 'hopeful'] {embed passage: 'Chapter4_05'} [if state === 'angry'] {embed passage: 'Chapter4_05'} [if state === 'uncertain'] {embed passage: 'Chapter4_05v1'} [if state === 'scared'] {embed passage: 'Chapter4_05v1'}

It’s not really a word, but it seems an appropriate sound to make. Your face flushes and you look down. “Bad day. I heal good,” you try to explain. “What you number?" Her lips twist as she debates whether to answer you. "S-622." "Come S-622. I fix, I heal." The sweeper fixes a hard glare on you, her expression alternating between animosity and curiosity. In the end, curiosity wins out. She nods and starts limping away from the pits. You remain behind long enough to throw the burner a backward glance and a quick wave... [[...then you follow.->Chapter4_07]]

hasBook: true -- You quicken your stride, desperation propelling you forward. By the expression on their face you can tell the burner has never seen a book before. They move as if to lift the cover and the sweeper reaches out a thin, olive skinned arm and swats the book out of their hands. “No look!” she hisses urgently. Without lowering her gaze, she points a slender finger at the book, then points to her leg. “Look, guard punish.” The burner clasps their hands in front of them, their eyes wide in alarm. The sweeper bends to retrieve the book but you get there first. You step between them, shuffling your feet and kicking up a layer of sand to cover the book. The burner recognizes you and a smile flickers across their face, there and gone. The sweeper spins and levels her piercing gaze on you. Her eyes are a beautiful shade of grey, deep and stormy. They’re more slanted than other eyes you've seen, and they narrow even further as she stares angrily at you. You glance around quickly. Noting the guard’s attention is elsewhere, you crouch down and shove the book into your bag. You pull the fragments of glass out as you do and toss them into the pit. When you stand, both the burner and sweeper are looking at you in astonishment. “No speak, look away,” you say with a quick shake of your head. You gesture to the sweeper's leg. “You hurt. I heal. Come.” “No,” the sweeper spits out. “You heal bad.” You blink. *What…?* You are an excellent healer, one of the best. The sweeper shoves her left arm in your face, so close you have to step back. You belatedly notice the bandage and that’s when you recognize her. This is the sweeper from yesterday, the one who’s good arm you treated by mistake. [[“Oops.”->Chapter4_06]]

hasBook: false -- You hesitate and can only watch fearfully, helplessly, as the scene unfolds before you. By the expression on their face you can tell the burner has never seen a book before. They move as if to lift the cover and the sweeper reaches out a thin, olive skinned arm and swats the book out of their hands. “No look!” she hisses urgently. Without lowering her gaze, she points a slender finger at the book, then points to her leg. “Look, guard punish.” The burner clasps their hands in front of them, their eyes wide in alarm. The sweeper bends to retrieve the book and tosses it into the fire pit. You watch remorsefully as the pages quickly blacken and burn. You wish you had been brave enough to save it. You can move your feet again and you quickly approach the two. The burner recognizes you and a smile flickers across their face, there and gone. Noticing their attention has shifted, the sweeper turns. Her eyes are a beautiful shade of grey, deep and stormy. They’re more slanted than other eyes you've seen, and they narrow even further when she sees you. “Healer H-313?” the burner asks softly, drawing the sweeper’s astonished gaze. “Why here?” In response, you pull the fragments of glass out of your bag and toss them into the pit. You face the sweeper and gesture to her leg. “You hurt. I heal. Come.” “No,” the sweeper spits out. “You bad heal.” You blink. *What…?* You are an excellent healer, one of the best. The sweeper shoves her left arm in your face, so close you have to step back. You belatedly notice the bandage and that’s when you recognize her. This is the sweeper from yesterday, the one who’s good arm you treated by mistake. [[“Oops.”->Chapter4_06]]

[if hasBook] When you return to your room, you carefully place your bag and the book within on the highest shelf, pushing it as far back as you can. The sweeper eyes you warily as she shuffles over to the cot and sits down. [else] When you return to your room, you drop your bag down on the floor next to the shelves. The sweeper shuffles over to the cot and sits down wearily. [continue] You crouch down in front of the sweeper and lift her injured leg, resting it on your thigh. You roll back the fabric of her pants and gently inspect the area. Like all workers her feet are bare, the skin on the underside of her feet is rough and hardened from years of walking on hot sand. She has no noticeable injuries but her ankle does appear swollen. You carefully rotate her foot and she winces and clenches her teeth. “Move good,” you say, reaching to grab an ointment from the nearby shelf. “No break. Walk slow, you heal.” You spread the cooling mixture on her ankle, then wrap the area with a thick bandage. You help her to her feet and she takes a few tentative steps, testing her weight on it. Then she crosses her arms and glares at you, making no move to leave. [align left] > [[Her abrasiveness is becoming tiring. “What?” you ask, annoyed.->Chapter4_08]] > [[You feel bad for getting off on the wrong start and try to make amends.->Chapter4_07v1]] > [[❤️ Even though she’s angry with you, it’s more charming than off-putting.->Chapter4_07v2]] > [[💛 You know she’s still angry and you should probably respond, but you find yourself distracted by her eyes. They really are a pretty shade of grey…->Chapter4_07v3]]

Your steps falter as you approach the next building: the chamber. It’s a small, nondescript structure, easily overlooked except by those who have been there. You hasten your steps and press on, the less time spent dwelling on that place the better. Beside the chamber is the nursery, a much larger two-story building managed by the takers. Memories of your time here are a mix of good and bad. Most children are naturally curious and talkative, and you were no exception. You learned very quickly - through very harsh means - that neither of those traits are appreciated. As harsh as the nursery was, there had been one bright spot. You have vague memories of a hand no larger than your own patting your head, of a shoulder touching yours, a warm body sleeping next to you. You had a companion, a child like you that was dear, always close. You can't remember their features but you remember the feeling of protectiveness that you each had for the other. It was what spurred you to defend them that terrible day, to take the punishment meant for them. You absently reach down and rub your scar: three circles from a whip that lashed around you, then painfully tightened as you were dragged across the floor. Something niggles in the back of your mind, something significant, but the more you focus the more it eludes you. The memory unravels like an old blanket as you try to grasp the threads. [[Your trek continues.->Chapter4_03]]

“You no same worker,” she says. “More word, more brave. Why?” You blink, realizing she’s right. You are not the same worker you were just a few days ago. Words have become easier, your voice stronger, your posture straighter. You’re certainly bolder. Or foolhardy, that’s probably more likely. You smile at the thought, then frown when you realize the sweeper is studying you even more intently than before. “I sorry,” you say. “Done heal, go work now.” The sweeper continues to glare at you so you turn your back to her, organizing the various bottles on your shelves. Eventually you hear the shuffling of feet. You feel a twinge of regret, but you know it is better to let her leave without answers. You still can’t express your words correctly, even if you wanted to. You need to learn more before you can hope to communicate- An oval-shaped face inserts itself in your line of vision and you yelp in suprise, jumping back from the shelves. She steps into the space you vacated, her arms still crossed in front of her chest, her expression still disapproving. "I no go. Want word same you. How?" [if hasBook] She taps the shelf where you deposited the book. "Why take book?" she demands. [else] She gestures her hand wildly in the air, either frustrated at you or her inability to speak, maybe both. "Why burner speak you number? Why no same?" [continue] You open your mouth and then close it, your mind blank. Before you can respond she starts pulling bottles off the shelves, examining the contents. "What this?" "Why do?" you ask, yanking the bottle from her grasp. She continues to pull bottles off, shaking them, stirring the contents up. "Stop that!" "Want know. What this?" *Honestly, she's like a child.* Your first thought is how meddlesome she is, but then it hits you—she *is* like a child, still curious, still eager to know things. How has she managed to retain that thirst this many years? You freeze, the sound of footsteps echo in the stairwell. You quickly tear the bottles from her hands and shove them back in place when the door opens. A guard walks in dragging an injured male worker behind him. He stops when he sees the two of you, his eyes narrowing. [["What do here?"->Chapter4_09]]

There are two new faces waiting for you when you arrive. A girl smiles at you, sweetly and tentatively. The builder introduces her as V-741, a weaver. She’s young—older than a child but probably not yet 20. She has wavy, reddish-brown hair cut short around her chin and wide brown eyes that seem too large for her face. She’s shy, saying no more than a simple “hello” when you greet her. But her demeanor is sweet and candid, her emotions unreservedly open on her face. You like her immediately. When the second worker, a male digger, is introduced to you the first thing you notice is the way he stands protectively close to the weaver. He’s large, not quite as tall as the builder but certainly stockier. He nods silently when you greet him, his amber eyes studying you. His demeanor isn’t aggressive, but protective and watchful. Understandable, given the circumstances. They defer to the builder in both manner and speech, and you know instinctively that they trust his judgement. They accept you on his word. When introductions are done they retire to a back corner between piles of books. The weaver sits on a crate and the digger sits cross-legged at her feet. She picks up a book and proceeds to read to him, her voice soft and deliberate, as if she’s carefully spinning her yarn and not a story. It is such a raw, unguarded moment that you can’t help but stare. [align left] > [[“Good workers,” you say, trying to convey the pleasure you feel at meeting them.->Chapter4_10v1]] > [[❤️ You want the builder to look at you the way the digger looks at the weaver.->Chapter4_10v2]] > [[💛 You wonder what it would be like to sit with the builder like that?->Chapter4_10v3]]

“I sorry,” you say again, pointing to her arm. “Good now.” The stern expression on her face relaxes somewhat, but she still doesn’t move. {embed passage: 'Chapter4_08'}

She’s not afraid to show her feelings—it’s an attractive quality. You respect her all the more for it, and find yourself intrigued by her. {embed passage: 'Chapter4_08'}

You gradually realize her mouth is moving. She must be saying something to you but you aren’t paying attention. You shake your head to break contact with those stormy eyes. “Sorry, what?” you ask. {embed passage: 'Chapter4_08'}

"They are," he says fondly. "They are dear friends." After a moment of watching them you turn away, feeling like an intruder. The builder looks at you. There is a question in his eyes, his expression more vulnerable and open than you have ever seen it. "I hope I can call you a friend, as well?" You smile and nod, and he lets out a soft breath. “I am glad you are here," he says. "Me too," you say. Your mind drifts to thoughts of the others: the feeder, the burner, the sweeper. They should be here. "I speak others. Other workers: feeder, burner, sweeper. I bring here?" The builder eyes you a moment, his face unreadable. "You have spoken to three other workers?" You nod. "They good worker. Like me." He considers a moment, then bows his head. "The more people that know of this room, the more dangerous it becomes," he says slowly. "We can not risk the guard finding out, I am sorry." Your face must have betrayed your dissapointment because he looks contrite. "I know how you feel, believe me, I do. It is why I took a risk in speaking to you. But please, trust me on this. Perhaps after you have known them longer..." He lets the thought trail off. You're not sure if he means it or not, but you decide it is better not to argue. You will wait. [[Begin Chapter 5->Journal90]]

heightDescript: 'insert height' heightDescript (height === 'short'): 'bends down' heightDescript (height === 'average'): 'bends down' heightDescript (height === 'tall'): 'leans in' -- You don’t fully understand the desire, but it’s impossible to ignore. It’s like the hunger you feel when you’ve missed a meal, or the need for sleep when you’re exhausted. It’s keen and insistent and directed at the builder. After a moment of watching them you turn away, feeling like an intruder. The builder is looking at you. As if reading your thoughts his expression shifts and you swear you see the same need in his eyes. He holds his hand out to you and you grasp it without hesitation. He {heightDescript}, his face close enough that you can feel his breath on your cheeks, see the flecks of copper in his brown eyes. He then swallows tightly and steps back, but keeps hold of your hand. “I am glad you are here,” he says finally, his voice hoarse and low. "Me too," you say. Your mind drifts to thoughts of the others: the feeder, the burner, the sweeper. They should be here. "I speak others. Other workers: feeder, burner, sweeper. I bring here?" The builder eyes you a moment, his face unreadable. "You have spoken to three other workers?" You nod. "They good worker. Like me." He considers a moment, then bows his head. "The more people that know of this room, the more dangerous it becomes," he says slowly. "We can not risk the guard finding out, I am sorry." Your face must have betrayed your dissapointment because he looks contrite. "I know how you feel, believe me, I do. It is why I took a risk in speaking to you. But please, trust me on this. Perhaps after you have known them longer..." He lets the thought trail off. You're not sure if he means it or not, but you decide it is better not to argue. You will wait. [[Begin Chapter 5->Journal90]]

Would you be as comfortable sitting there, as if nothing existed except you and he and that moment? Would he look at you with the same attentiveness, the same adoration? After a moment of watching them you turn away, feeling like an intruder. The builder is looking at you. Heat rushes to your face and your throat feels dry. You’re suddenly very aware of the small space you’re in, the heat from his body as he stands near you, the weight of his dark eyes on yours. He holds his hand out to you and you grasp it without hesitation. He doesn't move closer and neither do you. You just stand there, arms length apart, a world of understanding in your gaze. “I am glad you are here,” he says finally, his voice hoarse and low. "Me, too," you say. Your mind drifts to thoughts of the others: the feeder, the burner, the sweeper. They should be here. "I speak others. Other workers: feeder, burner, sweeper. I bring here?" The builder eyes you a moment, his face unreadable. "You have spoken to three other workers?" You nod. "They good worker. Like me." He considers a moment, then bows his head. "The more people that know of this room, the more dangerous it becomes," he says slowly. "We can not risk the guard finding out, I am sorry." Your face must have betrayed your dissapointment because he looks contrite. "I know how you feel, believe me, I do. It is why I took a risk in speaking to you. But please, trust me on this. Perhaps after you have known them longer..." He lets the thought trail off. You're not sure if he means it or not, but you decide it is better not to argue. You will wait. [[Begin Chapter 5->Journal90]]

~~Chapter 5~~ The next several weeks pass quickly. You find excuses to visit your friends - you understand the word now and happily apply it - whenever you can. You go to the feeding station often to refill your medicines, sometimes, a lot of times, when you don't even need to. The feeder doesn’t comment on it. He doesn't comment on much of anything but you happily fill the silence with your new words. Sometimes you simply watch him while he works, his profile confoundedly familiar. It irks you that you can’t place it. You also travel to the pits more often to dispose of soiled rags. You easily find the burner when you do, and if you can’t, they find you. They’ve come to expect you there, and their demeanor seems a little lighter when you’re near, the environment a little less bleak. Of course, if you're disposing of rags more often you're going to need new ones, so trips to the workshop are also more frequent. You usually see the weaver there, as well as the sweeper and digger at work sites along the way. The sweeper watches for you daily, her gaze narrowing when she sees your familiar figure. Her ire is almost comical now, and you smile teasingly at her just to see her reactions. The digger never breaks his silence, but you can tell he acknowledges you by the way he tilts his head in your direction. And when night falls, you see the builder. He’s been teaching you to read, starting with picture books and textbooks, and you've proven to be as proficient with words as you are with medicine. It had been startling to learn that past workers - correction, *people* - went to places called schools and were actually encouraged to read and write. [[Your speech vastly improves, as well.->Chapter5_02]]

There have been some fun words, too. As your lexicon improves, you begin to realize that the builder is a bit of a stick in the mud when it comes to what is “proper” vocabulary. One night you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by books. You move to stretch and your hand knocks against a precariously stacked pile beside you. The books tumble down, pelting your arm as you raise it to shield yourself. “Shit!” you exclaim. The builder, who had been moving to help you, suddenly freezes, his brow creasing. It was just you and he in the room tonight. “What did you say?” You blink. What *did* you say? You were too busy avoiding books and weren’t really thinking. “Um, shit?” He frowns and his nose crinkles as if he just smelled something foul and sour. “That word is vulgar, do not use it.” [align left] > [[It is pretty vulgar, you agree.->Chapter5_02v1]] > [[*Oh, hell no…* “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”->Chapter5_02v2]]

hasSwear: false -- "I read it in one of my books," you say apologetically, rubbing your elbow where the books struck you. "It's called a swear word. But you are right, it's offensive. I will try to refrain from using it." “What did you say?” You stop rubbing your elbow and look at the builder blankly. “I said, I will refrain from using it?” "No, before that." You think back, trying to recall everything you just said. "I agreed with you, it's offensive." {embed passage: 'Chapter5_03'}

hasSwear: true -- He raises an eyebrow. "Now you are just being childish." "And you are being ridiculous," you fire back. "It's a perfectly natural word. I like it, it's fun." “What did you say?” "I said you are being ridiculous," you say, sticking your tongue out at him. You may just be proving his point but you can't help teasing the large man. "No, after that." You think back, trying to recall everything you just said. "I said, it's fun." {embed passage: 'Chapter5_03'}

“That word," he says, pointing. "What is it?” “What word?” “It’s.” The builder hisses the word, as if it physically hurts him to say it. You almost laugh at the pout on his scarred face. “It's something I discovered in my reading,” you tell him, pulling a book from the pile that fell on you. “It’s called a contraction, a combination of the words ‘it’ and ‘is.’ What do you think?” “It is vulgar, too. Do not use it.” “It is not vulgar,” you exclaim. The swear was one thing, this is just silly. “It’s the way people spoke in the past. The fact that it’s different doesn’t make it wrong. You of all people should know that.” “‘Does-int?’" he repeats, his pout more severe. "You are butchering our language, just like the guard. Stop it.” Oh, this was just too tempting... “No.” You raise your chin. “I won’t.” “I said stop.” “You can’t make me.” The corners of his lips twitch. “It is not what I taught you.” “That’s not the point.” “Yes, it is.” “No, it isn’t.” “Alright! Enough!” The builder throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and heady. He stops abruptly and glances up at the windows. Then he chuckles sheepishly and you join in. He holds a hand to his temple and looks at you accusingly from beneath his palm. “You make my head hurt.” You feel a flash of pride. It's not often the builder laughs, so you consider it quite the accomplishment when you can make him. You like this—this moment of unity, of understanding between friends. You wish your other friends could experience it, and you dare to say as much. [["You said it didn't have to be lonely."->Chapter5_04]]

[if hasBook] You notice the sweeper glance quickly at the hidden book before dropping her gaze to the floor. Is she going to betray you? [else] You notice the sweeper glance quickly your way before dropping her gaze to the floor. Is she going to accuse you of being a bad healer, of speaking? [continue] She lifts a finger and you hold your breath, your fear paralyzing you. Then she points to the binding on her ankle. The guard grunts in understanding and inclines his head to the door. The sweeper leaves without a backward glance. The guard roughly pushes your new patient toward the cot. "Worker need heal,” he says. “When done, go work.” You nod and the guard leaves. You try to focus on the new worker's wounds, but there are too many thoughts going through your head. [align left] > [[She didn't turn you in. Why not?->Chapter4_09v1]] > [[❤️ She's going to make things interesting, you can tell.->Chapter4_09v2]]

She doesn't know you. She doesn't even seem to like you very much. But she seems restless, curious, like you. Maybe that's enough. You turn your attention to your new patient, your heart a little lighter. [[That night you return to the circle.->Chapter4_10]]

She's brash, unpredictable, unlike any worker you have ever met. Even the builder, for all his secrets, still acts with care and reason. This sweeper is like a force of nature. It is thrilling, endearing. You want to know more. You turn your attention to your new patient, your heart a little lighter. [[That night you return to the circle.->Chapter4_10]]

sound.ambient.sad.url: 'Audio/sad.mp3' sound.ambient.sad.description: 'sad music' -- {ambient sound: 'sad'} He lowers his hand slowly. "What was that?" "When you invited me in, you said it didn't have to be lonely, but it is. It's been a month. I'd like to invite my friends to the circle. My *other* friends," you clarify. A look of hurt passes over his face so quickly you doubt whether you truly saw it. "I am sorry, but no, it is not safe.” “But I've learned so much! What good is that knowledge if I can't use it to help others? What's the point of all this?" You wave your hand at the pile of books, the familiar feeling of disappointment and exasperation settling in your gut like a stone. "I can’t keep my silence forever and neither can you. Eventually you’ll have to speak.” “I already have. I can not allow myself to do it again.” You wince. “Are you saying you regret speaking to me?” "I-no, that is not what I meant." He tries to smile but it looks more like a grimace, as if anger is cramping his muscles. "Knowledge is not always a good thing. Sometimes it leads you to make reckless decisions. Decisions that put others at risk. I will not make the same mistakes he did." Your breath catches. "Who did? What mistakes?" He looks at you. You can tell by the hurt in his eyes and the downward tilt of his lips that you've touched a nerve. "I do not wish to speak of it." [align left] > [[You know you're losing him, but you feel too strongly about this to back down now.->Chapter5_04v1]] > [[You're done being patient.->Chapter5_04v2]]

"I know you don't, but maybe it's time you did. I've been waiting patiently for you to be comfortable, I can't wait anymore. This means a lot to me and it hurts that you just keep brushing it aside." "Enough!" he yells, startling you. "I have told you my reasons and still you will not listen. You leave me no choice. I order you to keep your silence and question me no more.” "Order me? Why are you being like this? I'm just trying to talk." "No, you are trying to strong-arm me on matters you know nothing about." His voice totters precariously between severity and outright contempt. “You come here, read a few books, and think you know best? I have endured more hardships than you could ever imagine. You know *nothing*!" You see him flinch the moment he says it, and you know he regrets his words. But you're too hurt to care. "I know I don't want this." You turn and flee up the stairwell, ignoring his voice as he calls to you. [[You run away from the circle and out into the dark night.->Chapter5_05]]

"Well *I* do! I want to speak to you, to my friends, to anyone who will listen. Why must you be the teacher in everything and I the student? Why must there be rules? You are no better than the guard!" You don't mean it, not really, but anger fuels your words. "Enough!" he yells, startling you. "I have told you my reasons and still you will not listen. You leave me no choice. I order you to keep your silence and question me no more.” Any regret you had been feeling vanishes in that moment and you jump to your feet. “You *order* me? Who the hell do you think you are?” “Another of your vulgar expressions?” “Don’t change the subject! When do I get a say? What gives you the right to give me orders?” “The fact that I am more knowledgeable of these things than you.” His voice totters precariously between severity and outright contempt. “I am older than you. I have endured more hardships than you could ever imagine. You come here, read a few books, and think you know everything? You know *nothing*!" You see him flinch the moment he says it, and you know he regrets his words. But you're too hurt to care. "I know I don't want this." You turn and flee up the stairwell, ignoring his voice as he calls to you. [[You run away from the circle and out into the dark night.->Chapter5_05]]

You avoid the circle for five days after that, and you don’t see the builder at all during that time. [align left] > [[You feel bad. You hadn’t meant for things to get so heated.->Chapter5_05v1]] > [[You’re still angry.->Chapter5_05v2]] >[[💛 Your stomach feels awful and you haven’t had a good night's sleep in days.->Chapter5_05v3]] >[[❤️ It doesn’t even matter who was right or wrong anymore, you need to see him again.->Chapter5_05v4]]

You only wanted him to understand how you felt, to understand how important these other workers are to you. It doesn’t mean you trust him any less; quite the opposite, in fact. *He’s* the one who taught you to support others, to see how beautiful a thing friendship is. He started you down this path, and now you have to see it through. You’ve just arrived at the feeding station for the communal meal and you immediately see the feeder. You want to find the builder but you could use a friend right now. {embed passage: 'Chapter5_06'}

It’s wrong, this city is *wrong*. And the longer you keep your friends in the dark - the longer you perpetuate the ignorance of the council - the worse you feel. You all deserve better, and you can not sit still while they literally suffer in silence. You could not live with yourself if you did. You’ve just arrived at the feeding station for the communal meal and you hastily look for the feeder. You could use a friend right now and you can’t bring yourself to approach the builder. Not yet. {embed passage: 'Chapter5_06'}

You only wanted him to understand how you feel, to understand how important these other workers are to you—how important *he* is. He is your friend, your rare, impossibly wonderful friend, and you treated each other so terribly. How can you face him now? You’ve just arrived at the feeding station for the communal meal and you hastily look for the feeder. You could use a friend right now and you can’t bring yourself to approach the builder. Not yet. {embed passage: 'Chapter5_06'}

You both said things you regret, you both made mistakes. You haven’t changed your mind, you still want to bring your friends in. But it will be worthless if it means losing *him.* You’ve just arrived at the feeding station for the communal meal and you immediately see the feeder. You still want to find the builder but you could use a friend right now. {embed passage: 'Chapter5_06'}

The feeder sees you the same moment you see him. You smile to yourself and get in his line. Since learning to read you’ve started using full sentences around your friends when it was safe to do so. The burner always listened to you with shy curiosity. The sweeper glared enviously at you. But the feeder… he never reacted differently. When he spoke in return it was in short, colorless bursts. When he moved, his movements were orderly, routine. It was a little disappointing, in truth. Maybe it’s your recent fight with the builder, maybe it’s the flat gaze the feeder levels on you now, maybe both, but suddenly you feel agitated. When you make it to the front of the line and he holds out your bowl of stew, your hands tremble. You fumble the bowl and it drops, clattering on the table before rolling off the edge, the contents spilling over your hands and the hard clay ground. [if hasSwear] "Shit," you mutter, dropping to your knees. The feeder kneels in front of you to help. You brush some stew off your hands and glance up at him sheepishly. “Sorry about that-” [else] "Gosh," you mutter, dropping to your knees. The feeder kneels in front of you to help. You brush some stew off your hands and glance up at him sheepishly. “Sorry about that-” [continue] His blue eyes are wide, wider than you've ever seen them. They’re not fixed on the bowl or your face, but on your left wrist. You realize then that the sleeve of your shirt has risen up, revealing your scar. He swallows once, then again. Then lifts his eyes to you. He looks horrified, and your heart aches to see such a broken expression on his normally blank face. “It’s ok, it doesn’t hurt,” you explain, thinking maybe his distress is for your sake. It is a pretty ugly scar. “It’s an old injury, I got it a long time ago in the nursery.” [[At this point he looks downright sick.->Chapter5_07]]

sound.ambient.rain.url: 'Audio/rain.mp3' sound.ambient.rain.description: 'soft contemplative music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'rain'} You hastily help him to his feet. You mold his fingers around the edge of the table because you’re not sure he can stand without it. “Are you okay?” you whisper, leaning close. He nods but he doesn’t look any better. You don’t want to cause more of a scene than you already have, though, so you grab a new bowl of stew and step away. You risk a glance over your shoulder and see he hasn’t moved. He simply stares dumbly at his hands clenching the table. Maybe he has never seen an injury like this before? Being a healer, you’re used to seeing terrible wounds; you forget that other workers may be shocked at the sight. You’re about to sit down when you feel moisture on your arm. You think at first you missed a spot of stew, but as you look a second drop of moisture lands on your arm. It mingles with the dust and causes a thin muddy rivulet to trickle down your skin. Then you feel a drop on your head. You look up, noting that every other head around you is tilting upward, as well. It’s raining. Every noise stops, every movement stills. The entire city pauses and holds its breath, then releases it in one grateful, relieved, joyous *whoosh*. [[It’s raining!->Chapter5_08]]

It didn’t rain often in the valley but when it did, the whole city reveled in it. It wasn’t what you would call a celebration, at least not as you understand the word from your readings. But it’s the closest anything here got. Workers all around you smile and raise their heads. Some cry, some laugh, some lean on whoever is closest to them. Even the guard relax their… well, guard. Their clubs and whips drop forgotten in the sand as they raise their hands to the sky. The water washes away all the dust and ash, taking the pain and the fear and the doubt in The City with it. Your heart clenches and you look around frantically, your stew forgotten in the mud at your feet. This spot of time is special and you don’t want to spend it alone. There is one person you have to see. *Now.* Who do you share this moment with? (Note, this choice WILL lock in your love interest. Choose carefully!) [align left] > [[❤️ B-485, the builder->Chapter5_08B]] > [[❤️ F-525, the feeder->Chapter4_08F]] > [[❤️ R-793, the burner->Chapter5_08R]] > [[❤️ S-622, the sweeper->Chapter5_08S]] > [[No one.->Chapter5_NoOne]]

loveInterest: 'builder' -- You shove your way through the crowds, desperately searching for those familiar dark eyes, that insufferably stoic expression. Why is it so damn difficult to find one ridiculously tall man? A worker steps out of the way and suddenly he’s there. The builder hasn’t seen you yet. He's breathing heavily, his expression frantic. He runs a hand through his wet hair, and you can’t hold back a frenzied laugh when you hear him swear. He turns in your direction. “My healer.” You throw yourself against his chest just as he reaches for you. His strong arms wrap protectively around you and he lifts you off the ground. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. "I’m sorry.” “I am sorry.” You chuckle into his neck when you realize you’ve spoken at the same time, and you hear him sigh in relief. “I hate that we fought,” you say, your words muffled against him. “I hate that I stayed away from you.” [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] {embed passage: 'shaved'} [if hairstyle === 'cropped short above your ears'] {embed passage: 'shaved'} [if hairstyle === 'short to your chin'] {embed passage: 'hair'} [if hairstyle === 'medium to your shoulders'] {embed passage: 'hair'} [if hairstyle === 'long, past your shoulders'] {embed passage: 'hair'} [if hairstyle === 'in a ponytail'] {embed passage: 'hair'} [if hairstyle === 'in a braid'] {embed passage: 'hair'} [if hairstyle === 'in multiple braids'] {embed passage: 'hair'}

loveInterest: 'feeder' -- You rush back to the feeder who is still standing exactly as you left him. The rain has tugged his hair loose from his ponytail and it now hangs like a tangled curtain hiding his face from view. “Feeder?” You grip his hand and entwine your {skin_color} fingers with his fair ones. “F-525?” He shudders and looks at you, his usually bright blue eyes hollow and clouded. Then he slumps to the floor, pulling down on your hand and you along with it. You stumble to your knees in front of him. “I sorry,” he says, his voice cracking. His face is contorted in pain and his tears blend with the streaks of rain. “I sorry,” he continues to mumble. “I sorry, I sorry.” You call out to him again but he ignores you and continues to mumble apologies. Your heart breaks to see him in this state. You throw your arms around him and hug tightly, pressing him to your chest. You gently stroke the back of his head with one hand as you try to soothe him. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay now, it will all be okay.” At first he just sits limply in your arms. Then you feel an arm reach across your back, a hand fisting in your shirt. Then another reaches up and clenches your shoulders. His hold tightens, his breathing matches yours, both of you pressing the other closer till there’s no dust, no water, nothing separating you. “My fault,” he finally speaks. His voice is soft yet steady, fuller than it used to be. “What’s your fault?” “You scar.” Your hand in his hair stills. Long forgotten memories rush over you as fast and relentless as the rain. A young boy your age with pale blue eyes that sparkle with mischief and humor. A night escapade past curfew. A word spoken back in anger to the guard. Then those same eyes are sobbing, pleading, his slender hands desperately reaching for you as the whip falls and you’re dragged away. You think you may have stopped breathing because suddenly you’re gasping. You pull back and look at him. You can’t believe it’s really him. The takers kept you separate after that day, and while you sometimes broke curfew and searched the nursery halls at night, you never saw him again. Eventually, painfully, you learned to survive alone. He steadily meets your eyes. His own have become clear and focused again, and there is a tenderness in them that wasn’t there before. He reaches a hand toward your face, then hesitates just a hairs breath away, as if seeking permission. You press your cheek into his palm and he caresses your skin gently, an incredulous smile on his face. “I miss you,” he says, his voice as tender and awe-struck as his touch. You remember the games of hide and seek you used to play. He was always good at hiding, notoriously good. But you were an exceptional seeker. This round just took a little longer. "I missed you, too." Your voice catches on a laugh, incredulous and joyous. "I finally found you." You hold like that for a moment, happy to be reunited. Then his eyes widen and shift to something behind you. Looking over your shoulder you see the builder watching you with interest. “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back,” you tell the feeder. You stand and start walking toward the builder and he meets you half way. His shoulders are tense, his dark eyes flickering over your face for some kind of sign. You swallow before trying to speak. “I’m sorry.” “I am sorry.” You both blink as you say the words in unison. Then he smiles, slow and hopeful. “Please, may I speak first?” You nod. “You were right—about speaking up, about my fears, all of it.” His face darkens and he looks away briefly before his eyes find yours again. “There is more about that night that you do not know, about the digger’s death and why he wanted to leave The City. It is the reason why I am so cautious, and so stubborn. Forgive me, I am not ready to talk about it yet. One day I hope to tell you the full truth. “Regardless, it was wrong of me to try to control you. I regret insulting you. Your passion and friendship are what give me hope. You encourage me,” he says earnestly, grasping your shoulder. “Speaking to you, allowing you in… it is the one thing I have done right. Do you forgive me?” You grip his hand on your shoulder and squeeze. “All is forgiven. I’m sorry as well, I should not have pushed you so hard.” “Thank you.” He inclines his head and you turn to see the feeder now standing. He seems to have fully recovered his composure and is watching the two of you expectantly. “Is that one of your three friends?” the builder asks. *More than a friend.* You smile and nod, your eyes on the feeder. “He is.” “Bring him in.” You whirl around and stare at the builder, unable to keep the goofy grin off your face. “You’re certain?” “I am. Bring him in. [[“Bring them all in.”->Chapter5_08F1]]

loveInterest: 'burner' -- You thread your way through the crowds, looking for the burner. They have to be here, everyone else is, they wouldn’t risk missing a meal. “H-313.” A hand clasps your arm and you spin about. The burner gazing back at you is your familiar friend, yet also not. The rain has washed the ash from their body. There are freckles on their cheeks and collar bone you had never seen before. Their red curls are darker now, and they hang in a tangled mess about their ears. You may have looked right over them, but thankfully they always seem to find you. They draw their hand back and look at it in surprise, probably the same expression you yourself are wearing. Then they clench their fingers in a fist and look up. “I no clean,” they whisper, looking up into the darkening sky. “I never clean. Only now.” Your heart clenches, understanding immediately they are not merely speaking of the ash. Slowly, carefully gauging their reaction, you reach toward their face. They allow you to touch them, sucking in their breath when you lay your hands on either side of their face. “You are beautiful, dearest.” They let out a shuddering sigh, a release somewhere between elation and exhaustion, and close their eyes. You lean forward, touching your forehead to theirs. They reach up and clasp their hands around your wrists. The two of you stand locked together like that for what feels like an eternity yet not long enough, never long enough. You open your eyes and blink, realizing a figure is standing behind the burner and watching the two of you with interest. It is your builder. “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back,” you tell the burner. They nod and squeeze your wrists tightly before releasing you. You walk toward the builder and he meets you half way. His shoulders are tense, his dark eyes flickering over your face for some kind of sign. You swallow before trying to speak. “I’m sorry.” “I am sorry.” You both blink as you say the words in unison. Then he smiles, slow and hopeful. “Please, may I speak first?” You nod. “You were right—about speaking up, about my fears, all of it.” His face darkens and he looks away briefly before his eyes find yours again. “There is more about that night that you do not know, about the digger’s death and why he wanted to leave The City. It is the reason why I am so cautious, and so stubborn. Forgive me, I am not ready to talk about it yet. One day I hope to tell you the full truth. “Regardless, it was wrong of me to try to control you. I regret insulting you. Your passion and friendship are what give me hope. You encourage me,” he says earnestly, grasping your shoulder. “Speaking to you, allowing you in… it is the one thing I have done right. Do you forgive me?” You grip his hand on your shoulder and squeeze. “All is forgiven. I’m sorry as well, I should not have pushed you so hard.” “Thank you.” He inclines his head and you turn to see the burner closely watching the two of you, their eyes wide with curiosity. “Is that one of your three friends?” the builder asks. *More than a friend.* You smile and nod, your eyes on the burner. “They are.” “Bring them in.” You whirl around and stare at the builder, unable to keep the goofy grin off your face. “You’re certain?” “I am. Bring them in. [[“Bring them all in.”->Chapter5_08R1]]

loveInterest: 'sweeper' -- Your heart races as you search the crowds for the olive-skinned sweeper. Finally you notice a lone female figure on the outskirts of the station heading back into The City. Her movements are unsteady, erratic. *Stubborn fool…* What is she doing all the way out there? She’s going to draw attention like that. You run toward her as quickly as you dare, your eyes scanning for the guard as you do. When you reach her you grab her arm and tug her backward. “Where are you going?” She spins about and brings her free arm up as if to strike you. She’s unsteady on her feet—the swing is wide and you easily dodge. She tears her arm from your grasp, stumbles and almost falls, but manages to right herself. “Are you crazy?! What if I were a guard? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” “No take! No take anymore!” she screams, her voice ragged, frantic. “My turn! I take back!” It’s only then that you realize she’s crying, her tears blending with the streaks of rain. Her long hair is a dark mass of tangled locks clinging to her nose and mouth. She looks wild, unhinged. “All guard do take, take, take. Take word, take worker. I want mine. I take back! I take back,” she repeats, her voice softer now, cracked and raw. You stand there, stunned, as she heaves a broken sigh and faces The City again. You look in the direction she’s facing, trying to figure out what set her off. The workshop? That hardly seems threatening. Beyond that… the nursery? You gasp and turn back to the sweeper. She looks similar in age to you, old enough to have gone to the chamber. Could she have…? She looks poised to run again and you know it’s not a good time to ask questions. The only thing that matters is keeping her here, keeping her safe. She takes a shaky step forward and you lunge, wrapping your arms around her so her back is against your chest. “Let go!” she yells, struggling against your hold. [if hasSwear] “For fuck’s sake, you’re going to bring every guard running!” [else] “Be still, you’re going to bring the guard running!” [continue] “I no care. Take back-“ [[“Why didn’t you turn me in?”->Chapter5_08S1]]

loveInterest: 'none' -- Then a thought hits you. In all the years of a life only ever lived for The City, you realize you want something for yourself. This moment. You stop spinning about, breathe, look up. The rain on your face feels warm, prickly but not uncomfortable. It awakens your senses, bringing everything around you into focus—the mud squishing between your toes, the muggy heat in the air, the sound of someone coughing behind you. You turn and see your builder. He hesitantly walks toward you and you meet him half way. His shoulders are tense, his dark eyes flickering over your face for some kind of sign. You swallow before trying to speak. “I’m sorry.” “I am sorry.” You both blink as you say the words in unison. Then he smiles, slow and hopeful. “Please, may I speak first?” You nod. “You were right—about speaking up, about my fears, all of it.” His face darkens and he looks away briefly before his eyes find yours again. “There is more about that night that you do not know, about the digger’s death and why he wanted to leave The City. It is the reason why I am so cautious, and so stubborn. Forgive me, I am not ready to talk about it yet. One day I hope to tell you the full truth. “Regardless, it was wrong of me to try to control you. I regret insulting you. Your passion and friendship are what give me hope. You encourage me,” he says earnestly, grasping your shoulder. “Speaking to you, allowing you in… it is the one thing I have done right. Do you forgive me?” You grip his hand on your shoulder and squeeze. “All is forgiven. I’m sorry as well, I should not have pushed you so hard.” “Thank you,” he says. “I have been thinking about your friends. I think it is time.” Your hand drops and you stare at the builder, unable to keep the goofy grin off your face. “You’re certain?” [[“I am. Bring them all in.”->Chapter5_NoOne1]]

You move quickly about the feeding station, your feet slipping in the mud. The rain is coming down harder now, which is good in that it makes it more difficult for the guard to see what you’re up to. The downside is that workers have begun moving under cover, and the crowd has thinned considerably. The excitement tonight has everyone on edge and the threat of discovery is too great, so you and the builder agree to meet at the circle tomorrow. The burner agreed readily when you told them, now you just have to tell the others. You find the sweeper easily. She’s standing defiantly in the rain, glaring at something in the distance. You wonder what has offended her this time. It seems a common occurrence. You’re halfway through explaining when she interrupts you. “Yes, I go.” You find the feeder in the back corner of the station staring numbly out at the rain. Of all your friends he’d be the most likely to turn you down. He’s always been detached in your interactions before now. You speak confidently, hoping to encourage him. His gaze drifts to your wrist and something settles in his expression. He looks back at you, his eyes clear and focused once more. “I go.” [[The next evening can’t come soon enough.->Chapter5_09R]]

You move quickly about the feeding station, your feet slipping in the mud. The rain is coming down harder now, which is good in that it makes it more difficult for the guard to see what you’re up to. The downside is that workers have begun moving under cover, and the crowd has thinned considerably. The excitement tonight has everyone on edge and the threat of discovery is too great, so you and the builder agree to meet at the circle tomorrow. Now you just have to find your friends and let them know. You find the sweeper easily. She’s standing defiantly in the rain, glaring at something in the distance. You wonder what has offended her this time. It seems a common occurrence. You’re halfway through explaining when she interrupts you. “Yes, I go.” You find the feeder in the back corner of the station staring numbly out at the rain. Of all your friends he’d be the most likely to turn you down. He’s always been detached in your interactions before now. You speak confidently, hoping to encourage him. His gaze drifts to your wrist and something settles in his expression. He looks back at you, his eyes clear and focused once more. “I go.” You’ve almost given up on finding the burner when they find you. The rain has washed the ash from their body. There are freckles on their cheeks and collar bone you had never seen before. Their red curls are darker now, and they hang in a tangled mess about their ears. They listen attentively as you explain, their two-toned eyes wide and awestruck. When you’re done, they bite their lower lip and meekly agree. [[The next evening can’t come soon enough.->Chapter5_09]]

You move quickly about the feeding station, your feet slipping in the mud. The rain is coming down harder now, which is good in that it makes it more difficult for the guard to see what you’re up to. The downside is that workers have begun moving under cover, and the crowd has thinned considerably. The excitement tonight has everyone on edge and the threat of discovery is too great, so you and the builder agree to meet at the circle tomorrow. The feeder agreed readily when you told him, now you just have to tell the others. You find the sweeper easily. She’s standing defiantly in the rain, glaring at something in the distance. You wonder what has offended her this time. It seems a common occurrence. You’re halfway through explaining when she interrupts you. “Yes, I go.” You’ve almost given up on finding the burner when they find you. The rain has washed the ash from their body. There are freckles on their cheeks and collar bone you had never seen before. Their red curls are darker now, and they hang in a tangled mess about their ears. They listen attentively as you explain, their two-toned eyes wide and awestruck. When you’re done, they bite their lower lip and meekly agree. [[The next evening can’t come soon enough.->Chapter5_09F]]

He bends down at the same time you tilt your head up. For a long moment you feel his warm breath upon your lips, before it is replaced by the warmth of his mouth. His lips are firm, wet from the rain yet full of heat. At first his mouth moves slowly over yours—not hesitant, but measuring your reaction. As you meet him touch for touch the kiss becomes more insistent. When you finally break away you are both breathless. You read about kissing, but the texts were woefully inadequate. You feel giddy, light headed. You don’t know how to express this happiness; for the first time in a month, you’re at a loss for words. You’re still in each others arms, your faces achingly close. His eyes are black and fixed singularly on you. He gently cups your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. “You are extraordinary,” he hums. You’re grateful he’s holding you because you feel weak in the knees. How can a man’s voice be so low yet so powerful? He studies you a moment, then nods to himself as if coming to a decision. “I think it is time for you to bring in your friends.” You jump back and stare at him, unable to keep the goofy grin off your face. “You’re certain?” [[“I am. Bring them all in.”->Chapter5_08B1]]

You lift up on your toes and press your cheek against his. The rain has washed the grit from his skin and you can feel his scar beneath your cheek. He sighs contentedly and holds you tighter, his right arm against the small of your back and his left hand cradling your neck. After a satisfying moment of silence, the builder speaks. “I have been thinking about your friends. I think it is time.” You jump back and stare at him, unable to keep the goofy grin off your face. “You’re certain?” [[“I am. Bring them all in.”->Chapter5_08B1]]

You move quickly about the feeding station, your feet slipping in the mud. The rain is coming down harder now, which is good in that it makes it more difficult for the guard to see what you’re up to. The downside is that workers have begun moving under cover, and the crowd has thinned considerably. The excitement tonight has everyone on edge and the threat of discovery is too great, so you and the builder agree to meet at the circle tomorrow. Now you just have to find your friends and let them know. You find the sweeper easily. She’s standing defiantly in the rain, glaring at something in the distance. You wonder what has offended her this time. It seems a common occurrence. You’re halfway through explaining when she interrupts you. “Yes, I go.” You find the feeder in the back corner of the station staring numbly out at the rain. Of all your friends he’d be the most likely to turn you down. He’s always been detached in your interactions before now. You speak confidently, hoping to encourage him. His gaze drifts to your wrist and something settles in his expression. He looks back at you, his eyes clear and focused once more. “I go.” You’ve almost given up on finding the burner when they find you. The rain has washed the ash from their body. There are freckles on their cheeks and collar bone you had never seen before. Their red curls are darker now, and they hang in a tangled mess about their ears. They listen attentively as you explain, their two-toned eyes wide and awestruck. When you’re done, they bite their lower lip and meekly agree. [[The next evening can’t come soon enough.->Chapter5_09B]]

“I hated it, too,” he says, cradling your head. “I was sick with worry that you would not forgive me, that you would never come back. But I could not bring myself to face you.” He lowers you back to the ground so he can look at you, though he doesn’t release you. "I regret my words that night. That is not the kind of man I want to be. You inspire me, encourage me. Speaking to you, allowing you in… it is the one thing I have done right. “You were right—about speaking up, about my fears, all of it.” His face darkens and he looks away briefly before his eyes find yours again. “There is more about that night that you do not know, about the digger’s death and why he attempted to leave The City. It is the reason why I am so cautious, and so stubborn. It is difficult for me to talk about-“ You lay a finger against his lips and he stills. “It was wrong of me to push you. You don’t have to tell me now. When you are ready, I am here.” “Thank you,” he whispers. He touches his lips to your finger. You barely feel it but it sends a tingle down the entire length of your arm. [align left] > [[❤️ You can’t stop looking at his lips.->Chapter5_Bkiss]] > [[You’re happy like this, simply being near him.->Chapter5_Bnokiss]]

“I hated it, too,” he says, burying his hand in your hair. “I was sick with worry that you would not forgive me, that you would never come back. But I could not bring myself to face you.” He lowers you back to the ground so he can look at you, though he doesn’t release you. "I regret my words that night. That is not the kind of man I want to be. You inspire me, encourage me. Speaking to you, allowing you in… it is the one thing I have done right. “You were right—about speaking up, about my fears, all of it.” His face darkens and he looks away briefly before his eyes find yours again. “There is more about that night that you do not know, about the digger’s death and why he attempted to leave The City. It is the reason why I am so cautious, and so stubborn. It is difficult for me to talk about-“ You lay a finger against his lips and he stills. “It was wrong of me to push you. You don’t have to tell me now. When you are ready, I am here.” “Thank you,” he whispers. He presses his lips against your finger—you barely feel it but it sends a tingle down the entire length of your arm. [align left] > [[❤️ You can’t stop looking at his lips.->Chapter5_Bkiss]] > [[You’re happy like this, simply being near him.->Chapter5_Bnokiss]]

You move quickly about the feeding station, your feet slipping in the mud. The rain is coming down harder now, which is good in that it makes it more difficult for the guard to see what you’re up to. The downside is that workers have begun moving under cover, and the crowd has thinned considerably. The excitement tonight has everyone on edge and the threat of discovery is too great, so you and the builder agree to meet at the circle tomorrow. The sweeper agreed readily when you told her, now you just have to tell the others. You find the feeder in the back corner of the station staring numbly out at the rain. Of all your friends he’d be the most likely to turn you down. He’s always been detached in your interactions before now. You speak confidently, hoping to encourage him. His gaze drifts to your wrist and something settles in his expression. He looks back at you, his eyes clear and focused once more. “I go.” You’ve almost given up on finding the burner when they find you. The rain has washed the ash from their body. There are freckles on their cheeks and collar bone you had never seen before. Their red curls are darker now, and they hang in a tangled mess about their ears. They listen attentively as you explain, their two-toned eyes wide and awestruck. When you’re done, they bite their lower lip and meekly agree. [[The next evening can’t come soon enough.->Chapter5_09S]]

__Name:__ {name} __Gender:__ {gender_1stPronoun} __Height:__ {height} __Eye Color:__ {eye_color} __Skin Color:__ {skin_color} __Hair Color:__ {hair_color} __Hair Texture:__ {hair_texture} __Hair Style:__ {hairstyle} __Persona:__ {persona} [if persona === 'Brawler'] {embed passage: 'Stats_brawler'} [if persona === 'Pathfinder'] {embed passage: 'Stats_pathfinder'} [if persona === 'Leader'] {embed passage: 'Stats_leader'} [if persona === 'Supporter'] {embed passage: 'Stats_supporter'} [if persona === 'Observer'] {embed passage: 'Stats_observer'} [if persona === 'Follower'] {embed passage: 'Stats_follower'} [continue] {back link} Note: Make sure you click "Back" above to get back to the story. Do not click on the stats link again because it will lock you in a loop.

You are a leader. You exhibit a willingness to learn and explore new things. You tend to be optimistic and hopeful, yet you are not afraid of making the hard calls when necessary. You are confident in your decisions and abilities, while still taking into account the circumstances of others. Your companions have put their trust in you and will follow your lead.

You are a supporter. You exhibit equal amounts of initiative and discretion. You are kind but prudent, sympathetic but not gullible, and you consider how your choices and decisions impact others. Your companions respect your willingness to listen and consider all options. You tend not to be the decision maker, but this is because you value collaboration and teamwork.

You are a pathfinder. You are an explorer, a trailblazer, be it exploring the physical world around you or fields of knowledge. You are excited to learn more about yourself, your past, and the world around you, almost with an overzealous earnestness. While your companions would like you to exert more caution and prudence, they are nevertheless emboldened by you.

You are an observer. You prefer to stand back, study, and observe, rather than *do*. You are cautious and protective, both of yourself and others, and feel the need to be watchful always. You are willing to learn new things but prone to overthinking, causing you to doubt your decisions. This can lead to hesitancy and missed opportunities.

You are a follower. You are afraid of change and find it difficult to cope with stressful situations. You are indecisive and prone to inaction. You prefer to follow the lead of another, or even better, to withdraw from conflict entirely.

You arrive at the circle that evening feeling hopeful, but also anxious. Surely the burner on watch would notice a group as large as yours? But when you get there you find only your burner and the builder. The burner is sitting comfortably on the ground in front of the open stairwell and they rise when you approach. “I burner on duty,” they say, gesturing to the fire pit behind them. “Other workers go down.” They spare a quick glance at the builder, then retreat down the stairs. “This is a good thing we’re doing,” you reassure the builder. “Thank you again for agreeing to it.” “You are welcome.” You start to walk down the stairs and as you pass him you toss back, “I will get you to use contractions yet.” “Not on your life, healer.” He chuckles and follows you down the stairs. At the bottom you notice the candles already lit and everyone looking curiously about the room—some examine the piles of books, others stand around awkwardly. You're pleased to note the weaver and digger are here, as well. “How does everyone seem to you?” you whisper, leaning in to the builder. “Surprisingly calm, given the circumstances. Your influence, I think.” You detect a hint of pride in his voice and you stand taller. [align left] > [[You address the small group, taking command.->Chapter5_10v1]] > [[You wait for the builder to speak.->Chapter5_10v2]]

You arrive at the circle that evening feeling hopeful, but also anxious. Surely the burner on watch would notice a group as large as yours? But when you get there you find only your burner. They are sitting comfortably on the ground in front of the open stairwell, and they rise when you approach. “I burner on duty,” they say, gesturing to the fire pit behind them. “Other workers go down.” “You waited for me?” They nod their head shyly and you take their hand in your own. “Thank you, dearest.” They blush at the endearment. A thin layer of ash covers their face once more, but you easily see it. The two of you walk down the stairs hand in hand. At the bottom you notice the candles already lit and everyone looking curiously about the room—some examine the piles of books, others stand around awkwardly. You're pleased to note the weaver and digger are here, as well. You catch the builder’s eye and he moves to stand at your side. “How does everyone seem to you?” you whisper, leaning in. “Surprisingly calm, given the circumstances. Your influence, I think.” You detect a hint of pride in his voice and you stand taller. [align left] > [[You address the small group, taking command.->Chapter5_10v1]] > [[You wait for the builder to speak.->Chapter5_10v2]]

You arrive at the circle that evening feeling hopeful, but also anxious. Surely the burner on watch would notice a group as large as yours? But when you get there you find only your burner and the feeder. When he sees you, the feeder pushes off the wall he had been leaning on. His expression doesn’t change but you can see his shoulders dip in relief. The burner is sitting comfortably on the ground in front of the open stairwell and they rise when you approach. “I burner on duty,” they say, gesturing to the fire pit behind them. “Other workers go down.” They spare a quick glance at the feeder, then retreat down the stairs. “You waited for me?” you ask when you’re alone. He reaches for your left hand, his thumb gently brushing your scar. “Found you,” he says. His gaze is playful but his touch is affectionate. “Thank you,” you say softly, squeezing his hand in return. He smiles then, pleased and hopeful, and your stomach flutters. The two of you walk down the stairs hand in hand. At the bottom you notice the candles already lit and everyone looking curiously about the room—some examine the piles of books, others stand around awkwardly. You're pleased to note the weaver and digger are here, as well. You catch the builder’s eye and he moves to stand at your side. “How does everyone seem to you?” you whisper, leaning in. “Surprisingly calm, given the circumstances. Your influence, I think.” You detect a hint of pride in his voice and you stand taller. [align left] > [[You address the small group, taking command.->Chapter5_10v1]] > [[You wait for the builder to speak.->Chapter5_10v2]]

You arrive at the circle that evening feeling hopeful, but also anxious. Surely the burner on watch would notice a group as large as yours? But when you get there you find only your burner and the sweeper. The sweeper stops her pacing and glares at you. The expression is unsurprising, but there is also relief in her gaze, new and oddly touching. The burner is sitting comfortably on the ground in front of the open stairwell and they rise when you approach. “I burner on duty,” they say, gesturing to the fire pit behind them. “Other workers go down.” They spare a quick glance at the sweeper, then retreat down the stairs. “You waited for me?” you ask when you’re alone. “You slow.” You ignore the remark and take her hand in your own. “Thank you for waiting.” She huffs and squirms, looking uncomfortable. “Come” she says. She walks down the stairwell, tugging you along behind her. At the bottom you notice the candles already lit and everyone looking curiously about the room—some examine the piles of books, others stand around awkwardly. You're pleased to note the weaver and digger are here, as well. You catch the builder’s eye and he moves to stand at your side. “How does everyone seem to you?” you whisper, leaning in. “Surprisingly calm, given the circumstances. Your influence, I think.” You detect a hint of pride in his voice and you stand taller. [align left] > [[You address the small group, taking command.->Chapter5_10v1]] > [[You wait for the builder to speak.->Chapter5_10v2]]

You arrive at the circle that evening feeling hopeful, but also anxious. Surely the burner on watch would notice a group as large as yours? But when you get there you find only your burner and the builder. The burner is sitting comfortably on the ground in front of the open stairwell and they rise when you approach. “I burner on duty,” they say, gesturing to the fire pit behind them. “Other workers go down.” They spare a quick glance at the builder, then retreat down the stairs. “You waited for me?” you ask when you’re alone. “Of course I did.” He opens his arms and you step eagerly into his embrace. He sighs as he closes his arms about you. “This is a good thing we’re doing,” you tell him. “Thank you again for agreeing to it.” “You are welcome.” “I will get you to use contractions yet.” He chuckles, the sound as warm and steadying as his embrace. “Not on your life, my healer.” You linger a moment longer before walking down the stairs hand in hand. At the bottom you notice the candles already lit and everyone looking curiously about the room—some examine the piles of books, others stand around awkwardly. You're pleased to note the weaver and digger are here, as well. “How does everyone seem to you?” you whisper, leaning in to the builder. “Surprisingly calm, given the circumstances. Your influence, I think.” You detect a hint of pride in his voice and you stand taller. [align left] > [[You address the small group, taking command.->Chapter5_10v1]] > [[You wait for the builder to speak.->Chapter5_10v2]]

“This is builder B-485, my friend.” You gesture fondly to the man beside you. “You can trust him as I do, as *we* do,” you say, exchanging glances with the weaver and digger. “He brought me here, taught me to read and speak. I can do the same for you, if you want. “But I want you all to understand that you are under no obligation to listen to us, or to even remain here. I asked that you come here tonight because, in spite of the council’s rules, we have spoken to one another. We’ve become closer than is allowed. If you remain, you will undoubtedly break more rules. Maybe you already have.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] “If you leave tonight and never come back, I will not hold it against you. And it changes nothing between us.” [else] You pause then, your eyes meeting those of the {loveInterest}. “If you leave tonight and never come back, I will not hold it against you. And it changes nothing between us.” [continue] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_11'}

“I am builder B-485,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring. “You can trust me as you do the healer. I brought {gender_3rdPronoun} here, just as {gender_2ndPronoun} brought you. I am the one who taught {gender_3rdPronoun} to read and to speak. We can do the same for you, if you want. “But I want you all to understand that you are under no obligation to listen to us, or to even remain here. The healer and I have asked that you come here tonight because, in spite of the council's rules, you have spoken to one another. You have become closer than is allowed. If you remain, you will undoubtedly break more rules. Maybe you already have.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] You speak up then. “If you leave tonight and never come back, I will not hold it against you. And it changes nothing between us.” [else] You speak up then, your eyes meeting those of the {loveInterest}. “If you leave tonight and never come back, I will not hold it against you. And it changes nothing between us.” [continue] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_11'}

You shift your gaze, taking in each of your friends in turn. “But if you do leave, know this: each of you is more than what *they* tell you. You are more than a mindless worker. You are a human being with your own identity. What we’d like,” you gaze up at the builder, “is to help you discover it.” The weaver steps forward and the digger follows her without hesitation. “We will stay, of course we will stay.” Her gaze shifts to the builder. “We’re in this together. We won’t leave you.” The builder smiles gratefully and inclines his head toward her. The sweeper thumps her hand against her chest. “I want! I want learn. I want i-den-ty.” No surprise there but you are relieved all the same. “I want learn.” The feeder clasps his hands behind his back, his posture rigid. “I stay.” “I stay,” the burner says, also stepping forward. You look about the room in… [align left] > [[…wonder.->Chapter5_11v1]] > [[...resolve.->Chapter5_11v2]] > [[…trepidation.->Chapter5_11v3]]

state2nd: 'wonder' -- [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [continue]

state2nd: 'resolve' -- [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_brawler'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_pathfinder'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [continue]

config.footer.center: "[[Character Stats->Stats]]" -- ~~Chapter 6~~ The months that followed somehow felt like the first months of your life. You spent your evenings teaching your friends how to read and speak. Some took to it easier than others, except the digger of course, who didn’t take to it at all. Once your friends realized they could vocalize their emotions, fill in the missing words, they were eager to learn more. As were you. When you weren’t teaching others you spent your time reading as much as you could get your hands on. You learned many new words—words for exotic animals you’ve never seen, foreign places you will never venture to, innovations you could barely even imagine. Most importantly, you learned about names. The act of calling everyone by their number had grown tiresome, impersonal. The numbers defined your work status, not your humanity, which you had only gradually begun to discover. They were no longer enough. You decided as a group to take on animal names—easy to discover in books, and unique enough that they did not belong to The City. They belonged to you. What animal name did you choose for yourself? {dropdown menu for: 'name', choices: ['Eagle', 'Lark', 'Wren', 'Hawk', 'Orca', 'Fox', 'Colt', 'Monkey', 'Badger', 'Boar', 'Lynx', 'Wolf', 'Dingo', 'Jackal', 'Rabbit', 'Newt', 'Toad', 'Asp', 'Gecko', 'Trout', 'Krill', 'Crickett', 'Moth', 'Mantis']} [[Next->Chapter6_01]]

{ambient sound: 'circle'} *Journal Entry 103* *I’m concerned about Jacob. He’s been working tirelessly on the building of the wall, to the point that he pays attention to little else. We haven’t seen any outsiders in years. We tried telling him he didn’t have to work so hard, there’s no one left to attack us, but he won’t listen. He won’t listen to anyone, won’t speak, won’t even look at Elsie. Keiko tried to help but she’s just an army medic, not a psychiatrist.* *The builders on the wall have taken to calling him “B-1,” whatever the hell that means. I think it devolved from Number One Builder? I told them it was cruel to mock him, he may not speak but he can still hear us. They tried to explain it was an attempt to boost morale, that they all adopted numbers too as a form of solidarity. Seems creepy to me.* *I feel bad for Elsie, she’s essentially lost both parents now. Her caretaker Dimitri says she's stopped speaking, too, and won't play with the other children. She’s still young, hopefully she'll recover.* [[Begin Chapter 6->Chapter6_00]]

*Journal Entry 90* *We decided to stop sending hunting parties beyond the mountains. Weather conditions are terrible and we've lost too many people and supplies. We found the remains of the outsiders' camp on one of the treks. Looks like they fared no better than we did in that environment. Good riddance.* *In one of the excursions, Shannon and her team discovered the remains of a wall to the southeast. It's crumbling in some places but intact for the most part. It’d make a great safety perimeter, hopefully deter any future attacks. We’ve started to rebuild it but it’s a monumental task. But it'd keep us safe. That's the most important thing.* [[Begin Chapter 5->Chapter5_01]]

*Journal Entry 1* *When the war ended there was nothing left. The earth was scorched, infrastructure destroyed, governments collapsed, technologies broken. A few of us survived but I have no idea how many. Communications were down probably for good and we were scattered, lost in a wasteland that no longer looked familiar.* *People were scared and no one had any idea what to do. I mean, where do you even start? The other soldiers and I stepped up not because we wanted to, but because no one else would. We had military and survival training, sure, but we’re all just basically kids. None of us were officers, they were all killed. We have no idea how to lead these people, but I guess someone has to. At least our intentions are good. That's got to count for something, right?* *So we started with the basics. Everyone needed direction, a job to keep them busy and feel needed, a way to find meaning in this tragedy. We assigned jobs to everyone who was able and willing to work. If we can all just start moving forward together, that will be enough.* [[Begin Chapter 1->Chapter1_01]]

sound.ambient.circle.url: 'Audio/circle.mp3' sound.ambient.circle.description: 'playful ambient fantasy music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'circle'} *Journal Entry 72* *I haven’t written in several days, I don’t even know how to start. Last week a group of outsiders attacked our community. I say outsiders but I'm pretty sure I saw Lorna among them. We fended them off in the end, but a few people were injured. Everett was killed. Jacob is taking it pretty hard. He won't come out of his hut. Honestly, none of us are handling it well.* *We managed to save most of the crop, but a few of the attackers took off into the mountains with our supplies. Who knows if they'll come back.* *I've been toying with the idea of creating a police force, specifically some of the trained soldiers who can guard against such attacks. I think tomorrow I'll bring it up to the rest of the council. We need to be able to protect our people.* *We held a memorial for Everett in the center of town. I wish we could have given him a proper burial, but the land here isn’t suitable, and with the threat of disease and decay it’s neither safe nor practical. So we dug a pit and constructed a large pyre on the outskirts of the community where he can be cremated.* *He will not be forgotten.* [[Begin Chapter 4->Chapter4_01]]

The question stops her instantly. “You-what?” [if hasBook] “That day in the clinic, when I treated your sprained ankle. You knew I had the book. You could have turned me in to the guard, but you didn’t. Why?” She seems puzzled so you press on. “Because you knew we were the same, that you were no longer alone.” [else] “That day in the clinic, when I treated your sprained ankle. You heard the way I spoke. You could have turned me in to the guard, but you didn’t. Why?” She seems puzzled so you press on. “Because you knew we were the same, that you were no longer alone.” [continue] She huffs and squirms in your arms but the effort is only half-hearted. “We’ll figure this out together, ok? We can take it all back together. Let me help you.” “I no need you help,” she mumbles. “Well, maybe I need you.” She doesn’t say anything for a moment, then you feel her lean back into your embrace. She brings her arms up to hug yours, her grip tight. You rest your chin on her shoulder and she leans her head against yours. Her heartbeat slows till it beats in time with your own. You stand like that for a moment in the rain, the rest of The City all but forgotten. The sound of a cough interrupts you. You turn and see the builder behind you, watching the two of you with interest. “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back,” you tell the sweeper. You release her but she keeps her hand on you, sliding down the length of your arm till you’ve stepped out of reach. You walk toward the builder and he meets you half way. His shoulders are tense, his dark eyes flickering over your face for some kind of sign. You swallow before trying to speak. “I’m sorry.” “I am sorry.” You both blink as you say the words in unison. Then he smiles, slow and hopeful. “Please, may I speak first?” You nod. “You were right—about speaking up, about my fears, all of it.” His face darkens and he looks away briefly before his eyes find yours again. “There is more about that night that you do not know, about the digger’s death and why he wanted to leave The City. It is the reason why I am so cautious, and so stubborn. Forgive me, I am not ready to talk about it yet. One day I hope to tell you the full truth. “Regardless, it was wrong of me to try to control you. I regret insulting you. Your passion and friendship are what give me hope. You encourage me,” he says earnestly, grasping your shoulder. “Speaking to you, allowing you in… it is the one thing I have done right. Do you forgive me?” You grip his hand on your shoulder and squeeze. “All is forgiven. I’m sorry as well, I should not have pushed you so hard.” “Thank you.” He inclines his head and you turn to see the sweeper closely watching the two of you. Her eyes narrow in suspicion but also something else, something possessive. You kind of like it. “Is that one of your three friends?” the builder asks. *More than a friend.* You smile and nod, your eyes on the sweeper. “She is.” “Bring her in.” You whirl around and stare at the builder, unable to keep the goofy grin off your face. “You’re certain?” “I am. Bring her in. [[“Bring them all in.”->Chapter5_08S2]]

You chose the name {name} and are quite proud of it. That evening the weaver, or Fawn, as she now calls herself, is teaching you how to sew. You discovered a medical text in the pile of books. Many of the techniques in it were impossible without the proper equipment, but this one involved stitching up people, similar to the way clothes were stitched. Seeing your excitement, Fawn smuggled some needle and thread out of the workshop for you. You poke yourself for the third time that evening and sigh, throwing a look at the weaver on the crate beside you. Fawn giggles at your expression and takes the fabric from your hands. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I poked myself, too,” she says encouragingly. “Let me show you again.” Her slender fingers deftly pull the needle in a back and forth motion over the material. “This is a backstitch,” she explains as she repeats the overlapping pattern. “It’s a good strong stitch, especially useful when clothes are weathered and thinning.” “How would it work on humans?” “Uh…” “Never mind, I’ll figure it out,” you say quickly, noting the queasy expression on Fawn’s face. “You’re not going to practice on people, are you?” the sweeper, Ferret, asks from behind you. “Why, you offering?” She snorts and returns her attention to the book she was reading. “What if you practiced on a piece of fruit, something with skin?” the feeder, Heron, suggests. He sits on the bottom step of the stairwell, his expression thoughtful. “Ooh, that might work!” “Right, I’ll see what I can find for you at the station.” “This conversation is disturbing,” Ferret mutters. You chuckle and a few voices echo you. Evenings like this have become normal for you. Relaxed. Easy. It's hard to imagine that a year ago you barely looked at another worker, much less teased one. You watch Fawn as she works. Her tongue sticks sideways out of her mouth as she concentrates. It’s in unguarded moments like this that you’re reminded of how young she is. She hands the fabric and needle back to you and you copy her movements. Fawn points and instructs you as you work. “You’re a good teacher,” you tell her with a smile. “You’re patient, and your voice is soothing.” She blushes. “Thank you. It’s nice to hear about my voice. Bison never talks so it’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking when I read to him.” The digger still refused to speak, even to choose his own name, so Fawn chose the name Bison for him. As best you could tell, he was happy with it. He was absent tonight—it was rare to see the two of them apart. “I think he’s very happy with your voice.” The burner, or Robin as they now call themself, pipes up from across the room. Over the last months they’ve opened up a lot, engaging with the others more than you expected. “You two are so close, I think he’d be happy with you no matter what.” [[Fawn blushes again, the rosy tint blending in with the dust on her face.->Chapter6_02]]

state2nd: 'trepidation' -- [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'excited'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'hopeful'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_leader'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'angry'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_supporter'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'uncertain'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceLoud] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoiceMeek] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandFirmStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_observer'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [if state === 'scared'] [if hasNoHandNervousStat && hasVoice] {embed passage: 'Chapter5_follower'} [continue]

“That’s called love,” Ferret speaks softly, more to herself than you all. You turn to regard her but she keeps her nose stubbornly in her book. “What’s that?” “It’s called love,” she repeats, lifting her head. “Something I learned in reading. It’s more than friendship. People used to fall in love all the time before The City. You could spend as much time together as you wanted, and it didn’t matter whether you were male or female or what your job was.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] Then Ferret’s face darkens and she turns away. “That was before the damn chamber...” [else] Without thinking your gaze finds the {loveInterest}’s at the same time they find you. Your heart does a funny little skip. Then Ferret’s face darkens and she turns away. “That was before the damn chamber...” [continue] “Chamber?” Fawn asks. “What’s that?” Ferret raises her head and looks quizzically at her. “Well, *the* chamber, the small building next to the nursery. You’ve never been there?” Fawn shakes her head. “You’re probably still too young.” Ferret turns her gaze to you and the others. “The rest of you have been there?” You nod, your fingers tightly gripping the crate beneath you. A pained expression covers Robin’s face before they duck their head, their hair hiding their face. Heron nods silently from his perch on the stairs. “More times than I care to admit,” Lion, the builder, says softly. As the eldest of your group he has probably been forced there more than anyone. As awful as the singular time had been for you, it must be terribly painful for him. Ferret nods and continues, her voice flat. “No one knows what the chamber is until they’ve been there, or rather, till the guard take you. The chamber is… where each of us were conceived.” It looks like she’s having difficulty choosing her words. She shifts her leg position, making herself more comfortable. “It’s also where pregnant women are taken when it’s time to give birth. It’s a lonely place, and there’s never any love there.” “Have you…” Fawn struggles to ask, “were you ever pregnant?” “Yes,” says Ferret, a thread of fury in that single word. Everyone is silent for a moment, then Fawn shifts and turns to you. “Do the healers help with the births?” You open your mouth to respond but Ferret cuts in. “Why would {gender_2ndPronoun}? There is no healing in that place.” “I hope I never have to go,” Fawn says softly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Everyone has to go at some point. When you’re old enough, they’ll come for you.” “Let’s not think about that now,” you say, standing up. “There’s no sense in dwelling on something we have no control over. Besides, it’s probably time we return.” [[Fawn smiles gratefully at you.->Chapter6_03]]

[if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_04R'} [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_04F'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_04B'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_04S'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_04'}

“{name}, may I walk you back?” You turn and see Robin beside you. You smile and nod and their features noticeably relax. You bid farewell to the others and leave the circle together. You walk in silence for awhile, keeping in the shadows close to the buildings. Your mind drifts back to your conversation that night and you recall Robin’s expression when asked about the chamber. You want to dig deeper but you’re not sure how best to proceed. Maybe they’d respond better if you shared your experience first? You’re hesitant to do so, but your concern for the burner outweighs your own reluctance. “Our discussion tonight got rather heavy, didn’t it?” You keep your gaze forward but you can sense Robin stiffen beside you. “I’ve never talked about the chamber before, I barely allow myself to remember it. Being forced to do… that, was horrible. I only went the one time, two years ago, but I know one day they’ll send me back.” You feel a hand reach tentatively for your own, thin fingers entwine with yours. You’re not sure whether they’re giving comfort or seeking it. It doesn’t matter. You tighten your grip and come to a halt. “It was a month before you found me,” they begin softly. “I didn’t want to do it, I could tell she was just as scared as I was. But the guard were right outside. So I obeyed... I hurt her... ” They draw a deep breath, their voice ragged. “I threw up outside when the guard took me back. I felt sick, so dirty…” You remember that moment in the rain and your heart clenches. “Hey, look at me.” Robin matches your gaze, their two-toned eyes glistening with tears. “That wasn’t your fault. *You* didn’t hurt anyone.” “But I-” “No, listen to me.” You pull their hand against your chest and grasp their neck with the other. “You did what you did because you had to, like we all had to. There was never a choice. You obeyed in order to survive, and that’s not a fault. That takes courage. You are beautiful, dearest, and I know you would never willingly hurt anyone.” “Thank you, {name}.” Their voice is somewhere between a sob and a sigh. Their eyes are still wet with unshed tears, but they’re much calmer. You’re transfixed by their eyes, by the way their tears reveal the freckles beneath the ash, the way their curls bounce in the light breeze. Ferret’s words come to mind. Is this what love is? This inability to look away? This care for them that makes your whole body tremble? The emotion is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. [align left] > [[❤️ You lift your hand from their neck to their cheek, your thumb grazing their lips.->Chapter6_05Rv1]] > [[You drop your hand from their neck to their shoulder.->Chapter6_05Rv2]]

You weren’t necessarily adverse to touching before, but it was always more habit, a mechanical motion in your line of work. After your time in the chamber it became distasteful, but you couldn’t exactly *not* do it. Gradually, it became habit once more. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06'}

You were never adverse to touching, but you sought it out even more after that. Caring for your patients, healing their wounds, healed the emptiness in yourself. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06'}

“May I?” You barely understand what you’re asking for but Robin nods, their eyes widening in anticipation. You lean forward and close your mouth over theirs. You can taste the saltiness of their tears and you feel the urgent need to take their pain away. You angle your mouth over theirs, pressing them closer. They sigh into your mouth and you can feel their arms snake around your neck. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06R'}

You tug Robin toward you and they almost fall rather than step into your embrace. Their arms encircle you and clench tightly. You stand in silence, reveling in the feel of their embrace, the warmth a healing balm for both of you. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06R'}

A scraping sound breaks through your haze and you snap back. Robin seems to have heard it too because they quickly yank you behind the corner of the nearest building. You hold your breath and peer around the edge down the alley. The scraping sound grows louder and then a figure crosses the alleyway. It’s a male guard, older than the others and dragging his club in the sand. His gait isn’t the usual brisk tread of the guard—it’s more listless, distracted. You can’t make out many of his features in the dark but you recognize his beard. It’s the same guard that was watching you in the feeding station months ago. You exchange a quick look with Robin and you can tell they’re thinking the same as you: the guard do not patrol at night. What is he doing out here? How *long* has he been out here? He passes the alleyway without a glance in your direction. You creep forward down the alley, Robin right behind you. At the end you carefully peer in the direction the guard has gone. You can barely see him in the distance, still walking aimlessly. You glance around but see no other guard. “I can make it from here,” you tell Robin, clutching their hand. “You should get back.” “Be careful,” they say, bringing your hand to their lips. “I want you safe.” “You too, dearest.” With that you part ways and hurry back to the clinic. The fear lingers, but another emotion does as well—one salty and sweet and full of promise. [[Next->Chapter6_07]]

sound.ambient.playful.url: 'Audio/playful.mp3' sound.ambient.playful.description: 'playful fun ambient music' -- {ambient sound: 'playful'} *Journal Entry 128* *I’ve been getting more complaints about the Guard. Sounds like they’ve become pretty harsh in their attempts to keep order. I spoke to Shannon about it and she said there’s been a rise in thefts, people trying to get more than their share of rations or water. She’s worried about a repeat of what happened with Lorna and assures me she’s monitoring her people to make sure they’re being fair. I trust her judgement. I’ve been preoccupied with the caretakers anyway.* *The caretakers… now there’s a mess. They’re pushing to have kids released into the workforce earlier. The whole point of the nursery was to avoid that. Let kids be kids. Parents seem to be split on the issue—many don’t want their kids working on the wall, and rightfully so. But the caretakers have a point, too. Several parents aren’t even involved anymore. The caretakers are overworked and older kids like Elsie could certainly help.* *Maybe there’s a way to compromise, a job they can do that’s not so labor intensive.* [[Begin Chapter 7->Chapter7_00]]

“Hey, {name}, can I walk you back?” You turn and see Heron beside you. You smile and nod and his features noticeably brighten. You bid farewell to the others and leave the circle together. You walk in silence for awhile, keeping in the shadows close to the buildings. Your mind drifts back to this evening's conversation. "I was thinking about what Ferret said." Heron turns to you when you speak. "About healers having nothing to do with the nursery. I wonder if our experience would have been better had healers been there." "I think everything in The City would be a whole lot better if there were more healers like you." Heron reaches for your hand and you entwine your fingers with his. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, causing the both of you to blush. "It's dumb how few of you there are compared to other jobs," he continues. "We're the same age but look at the difference in our numbers. 313 and 525? Practically double the feeders—it should be the other way around." "How do you think the council chooses everyone's jobs?" "No clue. They probably just throw sand around and see where it sticks." You chuckle. The mirth in his voice reminds you of when he was young. You walk in silence a little further, your clasped hands swinging between you, before Heron speaks again. "Can I ask you a question?" "Go ahead." "What Ferret said about love, about it being more than friendship... do you think that's what we have?" You think for a moment. "Well, what we have is definitely more than friendship. I don't know if it's because of our past or... something else." Your grip on his hand tightens. "But I know that I like being here with you, only you. So..." You bite your lip and nod. "Yes, I do." "Okay, right, same. I think so, too." You continue walking. "Hey, can I ask you another question?" "Sure." "Can I kiss you?" You pull up short and he stumbles to a halt. "Oh, sorry, that was awkward, I'm sorry. It's just something I read in- know what? Doesn't matter where I read it. I'm sorry if that was too much and I like being here with you, too, and it's totally fine if-" [align left] > [[❤️ "You can."->Chapter6_05Fv1]] > [["I would love a hug."->Chapter6_05Fv2]]

“{name}, walk with me.” You turn and see Ferret beside you. You roll your eyes; despite her assertiveness you do enjoy spending time with her. You bid farewell to the others and leave the circle together. You walk in silence for awhile, keeping in the shadows close to the buildings. Your conversation that evening reminds you of that night in the rain, when you first suspected Ferret may have had a child. You hadn't brought it up in the month since, but maybe now she'd be willing to talk to you? "I know you want to ask me about it," she says, startling you. "I only want to make sure you're ok." "Well, I'm not." [if gender === 'man'] You suck in your breath. You don't know if you fathered any children during your time in the chamber, and while the unknowing hurts, it pales in comparison to her experience. [if gender === 'woman'] You suck in your breath. You didn't conceive during your own experience, and looking at her now, you count yourself lucky. Your relief leaves you feeling guilty. [if gender === 'worker'] You suck in your breath. As uncomfortable as the experience was for you, it pales in comparison to her pain. [continue] "I'm sorry-" She halts and whirls on you, her eyes stormy. "I don't want your sympathy, {name}. I want you to make it right." You feel helpless, unsure what she's asking of you. "Tell me how." "I don't know. I just-" When she speaks again her voice is pleading, desolate. "The chamber wasn't even the worst of it. Carrying that baby for months, only to have them take it... them... I don't even know if it was a boy or a girl. I only saw them for a moment. "This city takes everything from you. But that child... that was *mine*. I want something of my own." She takes your hands in hers, her eyes fixed singularly on you. There's a vulnerability in her expression you've never seen before. "You were right, that night in the rain. I recognized something in you. We're alike in a lot of ways. That's why I want you to understand me. I want you by my side. I want you-" She swallows tightly. "You want me...?" [["That's it."->Chapter6_05S]]

heightDescript: 'insert height' heightDescript (height === 'short'): 'chest' heightDescript (height === 'average'): 'chest' heightDescript (height === 'tall'): 'shoulder' -- “{name}, may I walk you back?” You turn and see Lion beside you. You smile and nod and he grips your hand in his larger one. You bid farewell to the others and leave the circle together. You walk in silence for awhile, keeping in the shadows close to the buildings. Your mind drifts back to the conversation that night, and you recall his troubling words about the chamber. "I am sorry." You blink, the same words on your tongue. You look at Lion and see his pained gaze on you. "I am sorry you had to endure the chamber. I wish I could keep you safe from it." [if gender === 'man'] "Lion, it's not your sin to apologize for. Besides, you've had to go through it many more times than I." You squeeze his hand before continuing on. "I don't know if I fathered any children. That's the worst part—the not knowing." "No, it is not." [if gender === 'woman'] "Lion, it's not your sin to apologize for. Besides, you've had to go through it many more times than I." You squeeze his hand before continuing on. "I didn't birth any children. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not." "It is." [if gender === 'worker'] "Lion, it's not your sin to apologize for. Besides, you've had to go through it many more times than I." You squeeze his hand before continuing on. "The idea of bringing a child into this world... it's frightening." "It is." [continue] Something in his voice troubles you. "What?" Lion looks at you intently, as if deciding something. "The digger had a child." “What digger?” “My friend, the one from the lesson.” You stop short and stare at him. You're squeezing his hand so tightly but he doesn't seem to notice. "He was a young boy no older than six or seven. My friend saw him working in the fields." Lion continues in a rush, the words spilling over each other. "He said it was something in his eyes that he recognized. He resolved that day to leave The City, *with* his son." Lion's face hardens, his expression a storm of regret and resentment. "He had no plan, no fear of consequence. He snuck into the nursery and stole the child. He tried to flee with him and... well, you know how that turned out." You can't breathe but you have to ask. "And his son?" "He was returned to the nursery. I have not seen him since." You have no words to offer him; instead you step forward and wrap your arms around him. You lay your head on his {heightDescript} and he kisses the top of your head. "I'm sorry." You trail your hand up and down his back, feeling his muscles tighten beneath his shirt. "Do not be. I feel better for having told you. It has been a weight I have carried for too long. Thank you for listening," he says, his voice lower, huskier. "Thank you for caring for me." "I'm here for you, I always will be." You lift your head and he meets your gaze, his eyes black and hooded. You feel a familiar ache in your chest and a warmth seeping into your stomach. Is this what love is? This desire to be closer to someone, so close that you don't know where you end and he begins? "Is this what Ferret was talking about?" Lion murmurs, his thoughts blessedly echoing yours. [align left] > [[❤️ He lowers his mouth to yours and you rise to meet him.->Chapter6_05Bv1]] > [[You close your eyes and nestle into his embrace.->Chapter6_05Bv2]]

His mouth slants over yours, hungry, desperate, his kiss all need and affirmation. He bites your bottom lip and when you gasp, he slips his tongue in and tangles it with your own. The act should have shocked you but instead you press closer, driving him deeper. Lion presses you against the wall, his body all hard muscle and defined angles. Your hands roam his hips, his chest, then lower down his stomach, teasing the skin at his waist. A moan breaks the quiet evening. Is that you or him? A scraping sound shatters the moment and you snap back. Your head is foggy, dazed, but Lion reacts quickly. He yanks you behind the corner of the nearest building. You peer around the edge, struggling to get your rapid breathing under control. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06B'}

He sighs and holds you tighter. You stand in silence, both of you reveling in this connection, this strange and beautiful emotion between you. A scraping sound breaks the still night air and you snap back. Lion seems to have heard it too because he quickly yanks you behind the corner of the nearest building. You hold your breath and peer around the edge down the alley. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06B'}

The scraping sound grows louder and then a figure crosses the alleyway. It’s a male guard, older than the others and dragging his club in the sand. His gait isn’t the usual brisk tread of the guard—it’s more listless, distracted. You can’t make out many of his features in the dark but you recognize his beard. It’s the same guard that was watching you in the feeding station months ago. You exchange a quick look with Lion and you can tell he's thinking the same as you: the guard do not patrol at night. What is he doing out here? How *long* has he been out here? He passes the alleyway without a glance in your direction. You creep forward down the alley, Lion right behind you. At the end you carefully peer in the direction the guard has gone. You can barely see him in the distance, still walking aimlessly. You glance around but see no other guard. “I can make it from here,” you tell Lion, clutching his hand. “You should get back.” He pulls you to him and crushes you against his chest. "Be careful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "The thought of something happening to you... I would lose myself." Your grip on him tightens. You don't want to leave his side but you can't risk the guard coming back. You kiss his neck and he shivers. "I'll be safe, I promise. You better be careful, too." You share one last look—one filled with urgency but also desire, and the promise of something more. Then you part ways and hurry back to the clinic, the echo of his touch lingering on your skin. [[Next->Chapter6_07]]

Your heart beats rapidly, every nerve in your body on fire. Is this what she meant by love? This desperate, dizzying feeling? Of yearning for something you can't put a name to, yet your entire body screams that it *needs*? Her face is flushed, her lips parted slightly. You can’t tear your gaze from those lips and you feel yourself leaning forward. A scraping sound shatters the silence and you snap back. Ferret seems to have heard it too because she quickly yanks you behind the corner of the nearest building. You hold your breath and peer around the edge down the alley. The scraping sound grows louder and then a figure crosses the alleyway. It’s a male guard, older than the others and dragging his club in the sand. His gait isn’t the usual brisk tread of the guard—it’s more listless, distracted. You can’t make out many of his features in the dark but you recognize his beard. It’s the same guard that was watching you in the feeding station months ago. You exchange a quick look with Ferret and you can tell she's thinking the same as you: the guard do not patrol at night. What is he doing out here? How *long* has he been out here? He passes the alleyway without a glance in your direction. You creep forward down the alley, Ferret right behind you. At the end you carefully peer in the direction the guard has gone. You can barely see him in the distance, still walking aimlessly. You glance around but see no other guard. “I can make it from here,” you tell Ferret, clutching her hand. “You should get back.” "No, I'm not leaving you alone." Wordlessly you pull her into your arms. Her stubbornness is as flattering as it is vexing. "I'll be fine," you whisper into her ear. "Take care of yourself, please." She makes an adorable grunting noise, then wiggles free of your grasp. With a final look between you, you part ways and hurry back to the clinic. Something hopeful and unfinished stirs in your blood, and you can't wait to explore it further. [[Next->Chapter6_07]]

Late in the afternoon the following day, you hear a knock on your door. You glance up to find Heron standing in the open doorway, his right arm cradled against his chest. “Heron! Come in, shut the door.” You lead him to the cot, noting the burn on his wrist. “What happened?” “It’s not too bad, just a slight burn,” he says through gritted teeth. Obviously it hurts more than he's letting on. Once seated, you examine his wrist. The skin is red and blistering in parts, but it isn’t as bad as you first thought. You sigh in relief and take a clean rag from the shelf, wetting it with water from the basin. “You’re usually more careful than this. How did it happen?” “Well, burns tend to happen when you hold your arm over an open flame.” You look up and see his blue eyes twinkling in mischief, the corners of his lips lifting in a smirk. “What?” “I needed to see you, and getting hurt was the only way I could leave work.” “What was so urgent it couldn’t wait till tonight?” “You needed fruit.” With his free hand he reaches into his pockets and produces three small plums. You can feel your jaw drop and he grins. “Please don’t hurt yourself over something like this,” you reprimand him, reaching for a vial of ointment. “This could have waited till tonight.” [[Next->Chapter6_08]]

“Right, sorry,” he says sheepishly, returning the plums to his pocket. “I was just excited to help.” “You know, you surprise me.” “How so?” “You used to be such a strict rule follower. I half expected you to decline my offer when I first invited you to the circle.” Heron grows thoughtful. “I wasn’t always a rule follower. I was actually a bit of a trouble maker when I was young.” “What made you change?” A pause. “When I was a child, a dear friend of mine got hurt, {gender_2ndPronoun} took a punishment meant for me.” Your hands still, your heartbeat quickens. You look up and his piercing blue eyes are fixed on you. “You said you expected me to decline that day in the rain, but I couldn’t. Not after seeing this.” He reaches forward and takes hold of your wrist, his thumb brushing over your scar. “Not after seeing you again.” Long forgotten memories rush over you, fast and relentless. A young boy your age with pale blue eyes that sparkle with mischief and humor. A night escapade past curfew. A word spoken back in anger to the guard. Then those same eyes are sobbing, pleading, his slender hands desperately reaching for you as the whip falls and you’re dragged away. You think you may have stopped breathing because suddenly you’re gasping. “That was *you*?” He nods slowly. [align left] > [[You turn your hand over in his and clasp his wrist tight.->Chapter6_HeronFriendv1]] > [[You throw yourself forward, knocking him off the cot.->Chapter6_HeronFriendv2]] > [[You glare at him, jabbing your finger into his chest.->Chapter6_HeronFriendv3]]

He smiles as you lock grips, each holding the other's wrist, the gesture strong and sure. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_09'}

He laughs as he catches you and you both tumble to a heap on the ground. Then he winces when his burned wrist hits the floor. “Sorry! Sorry!” you exclaim, struggling to sit up. You roll off him and reach for a bandage off the shelf. “It’s okay,” he says, fixing the most perfect smile on you. “You haven’t changed, {name}.” {embed passage: 'Chapter6_09'}

“You’ve known since then? Why didn’t you say anything?” He winces and at least has the decency to look contrite. “I’m sorry, really, I wanted to. There just never seemed a good time. Are you mad? You're not mad at me, are you?” You huff and reach for a bandage off the shelf. Honestly you are more mad at yourself, and perhaps a little embarrassed, for not recognizing him sooner. “I’m not mad,” you admit, looking at him sideways. “But don’t you dare keep secrets from me again.” He shakes his head in earnest, his loose blonde hair waving about his shoulders. “I won’t, I promise.” {embed passage: 'Chapter6_09'}

“I can’t believe it's really you,” you murmur. “I looked for you, after they separated us, but I could never find you.” “I didn’t want to be found, I’m sorry.” He swallows and glances at your wrist. “I felt awful. You were hurt because of my pranks, because you tried to protect me. I couldn’t face you after that, and I thought you’d be safer if I stayed away. But I *did* miss you, terribly, I swear.” “I missed you, too.” You both simply stare for a moment longer, happy to be reunited. You wonder what it would have been like had you grown up together, like the families you read about in your books. Is this what it's like to have a brother? The thought warms your heart. You’re reminded then of his injury and you hurry to finish wrapping the wound. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_10'}

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” A familiar flutter tickles your chest, and pleasant memories of last night flood your mind. His thoughts must have ventured in the same direction because he coughs and turns away, a blush reddening his features. It’s charming. “I wanted to see you, too.” The smile he gives you lights up his whole face, and you’re reminded of the boy you once knew. He used to smile like that, full of playfulness and joy and abandon. You never thought you would see it again, never thought you would see *him* again. Something in your face must have given away your thoughts because his smile dims a little. He grips your waist and pulls you closer so that you’re standing between his legs. “Hey, you alright?” “I am,” you murmur, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Just thinking about when we were young.” [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] {embed passage: 'shaved2'} [if hairstyle === 'cropped short above your ears'] {embed passage: 'hair2'} [if hairstyle === 'short to your chin'] {embed passage: 'hair2'} [if hairstyle === 'medium to your shoulders'] {embed passage: 'hair2'} [if hairstyle === 'long, past your shoulders'] {embed passage: 'hair2'} [if hairstyle === 'in a ponytail'] {embed passage: 'ponytail'} [if hairstyle === 'in a braid'] {embed passage: 'braid'} [if hairstyle === 'in multiple braids'] {embed passage: 'braids'}

[if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_HeronLove'} [else] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_HeronFriend'}

He reaches up and strokes your head, his fingers tingling against your bare skin. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_HeronLove_02'}

He reaches up and plays with a strand of hair that fell loose from your ponytail. His fingers tingle when they brush against your ear. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_HeronLove_02'}

He reaches up and plays with your hair, his fingers tingle when they brush against your ear. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_HeronLove_02'}

He reaches up and plays with a strand of hair that fell loose from your braid. His fingers tingle when they brush against your ear. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_HeronLove_02'}

You bid farewell to the others and make your way upstairs. Fawn and Bison follow you up, then you part ways, the two of them heading off toward the barracks and you to the clinic. You halt your steps and watch their retreating figures for a moment. They amble leisurely along, their hands clasped, bodies leaning toward each other. They could have been taking a stroll on some far off, sunlit beach, rather than the secret shadows of The City. You wish there was a safe place, a safe time, in which your friends could explore and nurture these feelings for each other. Amidst the oppressive, sterile gloom of The City, you hope they can find a way to be happy. Talk of the chamber has you reflecting on your own experience. [if gender === 'man'] You don't know if you fathered any children. That's the worst part about it all—the not knowing. [if gender === 'woman'] You didn't become pregnant. You can't really decide if that's a good thing or not. [if gender === 'worker'] As horrible as the chamber is, the idea of bringing a child into this world... that's terrifying. [continue] Your biggest fear is the possibility of going back. The touch of a stranger who was just as repulsed as you, the breathing that was too loud in the small room, the shame you felt when the act was over… it’s not an experience you care to repeat. [align left] > [[You were reluctant to touch others after that day. If not for the necessity in your work, you may never have gotten used to it again.->Chapter6_05v1]] > [[You threw yourself into your work after that day, desperate for meaningful contact.->Chapter6_05v2]]

A scraping sound breaks your reverie and you scamper behind the corner of the nearest building. You hold your breath and peer around the edge down the alley. The scraping sound grows louder and then a figure crosses the alleyway. It’s a male guard, older than the others and dragging his club in the sand. His gait isn’t the usual brisk tread of the guard—it’s more listless, distracted. You can’t make out many of his features in the dark but you recognize his beard. It’s the same guard that was watching you in the feeding station months ago. You blink, unable to believe your eyes. The guard do not patrol at night. What is he doing out here? How *long* has he been out here? He passes the alleyway without a glance in your direction and you creep forward after him. At the end you carefully peer in the direction the guard has gone. You can barely see him in the distance, still walking aimlessly. You glance around but see no other guard. You allow yourself a silent sigh of relief. You'll have to warn the others the next time you're together. With a final glance after the guard, you hurry back to the clinic. [[Next->Chapter6_07]]

"You mean about all the trouble you caused me?" "Me?" You playfully punch his shoulder and he makes an exaggerated wince. "*You* were the one always dragging me on your foolish adventures—stealing blankets from the takers, sneaking out after dark." He looks aghast. "I would never! I distinctly remember you hiding the broom every week." "That was you!" "Couldn't have been. I hated that thing, wouldn't have touched it." "Well, that much is true," you mutter. "How did you manage to disappear every time we were told to clean?" He winks at you. "Magic." He grabs your fist when you move to hit him again, his thumb rubbing your scar. "You were always a better friend to me than I was to you.” "That's not true," you say, reaching forward to play with his hair. As a feeder his hair is cleaner than most, and the thick strands feel soft against your skin. "I remember you holding me on more than one night when I was too scared to sleep." He remains quiet for a moment. He's still rubbing your scar with his thumb and you can feel your pulse quicken beneath his touch. "I never properly apologized for this, did I?" “You don’t have to, Heron. I'd do it again, even knowing the outcome." "Then..." He leans down and kisses the inside of your wrist, and the words you were about to say die in your throat. He continues pressing soft kisses to your scar, then up your arm, your skin tingling everywhere his lips touch. He looks up at you beneath long eyelashes. “Tell me how I can make it up to you, {name}." [align left] > [[❤️ “You’re doing a very good job.”->Chapter6_HeronLove_03]] > [[“I think you’ve apologized enough.”->Chapter6_HeronLove_04]]

He stops. Blinks. Opens his mouth then closes it. "Yeah?" "Yes." You're not sure whether he moves or you do, but suddenly his chest is pressed against yours, your lips clashing together. It's clumsy at first—your noses bumping, your lips unyielding. And you have no idea what to do with your hands. Then Heron slows. He moves a hand behind your neck and tilts your head, angling his mouth over yours. What follows is pure ecstasy. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06F'}

He lets out his breath in a whoosh and grins at you. "I would love that, too." You step forward and Heron brings his arms around you, pressing you close. You wrap your arms about his neck and he rests his head on your shoulder. A feeling of warmth and familiarity envelops you. It's the feeling of coming home. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_06F'}

A scraping sound breaks through your haze and you snap back. Heron seems to have heard it too because he quickly yanks you behind the corner of the nearest building. You hold your breath and peer around the edge down the alley. The scraping sound grows louder and then a figure crosses the alleyway. It’s a male guard, older than the others and dragging his club in the sand. His gait isn’t the usual brisk tread of the guard—it’s more listless, distracted. You can’t make out many of his features in the dark but you recognize his beard. It’s the same guard that was watching you in the feeding station months ago. You exchange a quick look with Heron and you can tell he's thinking the same as you: the guard do not patrol at night. What is he doing out here? How *long* has he been out here? He passes the alleyway without a glance in your direction. You creep forward down the alley, Heron right behind you. At the end you carefully peer in the direction the guard has gone. You can barely see him in the distance, still walking aimlessly. You glance around but see no other guard. “I can make it from here,” you tell Heron, clutching his hand. “You should get back.” “{name}, wait, you sure you'll be okay? I can stay with you." “I'll be fine.” You clasp your arms around him and he returns the hug with a fierceness, his hands clenching your shirt, his breath hot against your neck. "Get yourself back safely." You release each other and head in opposite directions—you toward the clinic and he to the barracks. Despite the danger in the air you can't keep the giddy smile from your face. [[Next->Chapter6_07]]

Is that your voice? It sounds low, breathless. Heron must have picked up on the change, too, because his eyes narrow and his lips part slightly. One hand trails up your arm while the other circles your waist, his fingers grazing the skin between your shirt and pants. You lock your fingers behind his neck and lean down at the same time he stretches upward. You pause just shy of his lips—your breath mingling with his, the stubble on his chin tickling your cheek, your pulse pounding in your ears. His eyes flash. Streaks of silver against the blue. "Damn, {name}," he breathes. His voice is husky, carnal. It sends a shiver down your spine. You close the distance and your lips meet. The kiss is desperate, driven by a need neither of you can put words to. But words don't matter anymore. You deepen the kiss, moving your mouth over his again and again. You catch his bottom lip between your teeth and he groans into your mouth. His fingers become bolder, exploring your skin beneath the hem of your shirt. [if gender === 'woman'] His other hand moves from your arm to your shoulder, then down, stopping just above the mound of your breast. He holds there, his fingers exerting just enough pressure to cause an odd and delicious feeling to pool in your belly. [else] His other hand moves from your arm to your shoulder, then down your side following your curves, exerting just enough pressure to cause an odd and delicious feeling to pool in your belly. [continue] You have never felt anything like this before, this heat scorching every inch of your skin. You don't understand it but you know you need to be closer, *much* closer. You bury your hands in his hair and press your body to his, your kiss growing urgent. His grip on your waist tightens, then suddenly releases and he lets out a hiss. You remember his injury and quickly pull back. "I'm sorry, are you okay?" He looks at you sheepishly, his face red, his hair attractively tousled. "I'm okay, really. Better than okay. Fantastic." You sigh and force yourself back. You can still feel the sensation of his body against yours, and the distance between you now is frustrating and immense. As much as you want to explore this further, it's not safe for him to linger here. "We'd better get you healed up before a guard comes in.” You continue tending to his injury, trying your best to ignore the way his dusty blue eyes follow your every move. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_10'}

You laugh and pull your hand away. “Are you sure? I could grovel a bit.” “Not on that wrist. Now let’s finish up before a guard comes in.” You continue tending to his injury, trying your best to ignore the wishful glances he keeps throwing your way. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_10'}

“No more burns,” you admonish. “I didn’t find you again just to lose you to recklessness.” “Yes, {name},” he says with a smirk. You finish bandaging his wrist and he moves to leave, then remembers the plums in his pocket. He tosses them to you and you clumsily catch them. “See you tonight!” Once he’s gone you set about cleaning your space. You rinse out the soiled rags and hang them up to dry. When you’re finished, you turn your attention to the plums. [["Now, how would a backstitch work on these?”->Chapter6_11]]

sound.ambient.danger.url: 'Audio/danger.mp3' sound.ambient.danger.description: 'dramatic troubled music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'danger'} Throughout the rest of the day you practice sewing in between patients, making sure to hide the materials out of sight each time. One plum gets thoroughly mangled in the process but you begin to feel more confident in your work. You're so intent on your sewing that you don't hear the footfalls outside your door till it's too late. You barely have time to toss the plums and needlework on the top shelf before your door opens and a guard walks in. Your blood runs cold as you stare into the {eye_color} eyes of the elder guard. There's a clattering noise to your left and you watch, horrified, as a plum rolls off the shelf. It rolls to a stop between you and the guard. The guard looks down at the plum, then up at the shelf where the fabric and remaining plums are clearly visible, then finally at you. [if hasSwear] *I'm dead. Oh, fuck, I am so dead.* [else] *I'm dead, I am so dead.* [continue] You lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut. "You... why..." The guard struggles with his words and you dare to raise your eyes. He looks confused, troubled, but not angry. He shuffles from one foot to another. It's the most un-guard like thing you have ever seen. Finally his gaze settles on the plum at your feet and he inclines his head. "Clean that up." You grab up the plum and stash it on the shelf, pushing the rest of the fruit and your sewing kit far back till they’re out of sight. Satisfied, he nods and moves over to retrieve the basin of water. Without another word to you he lifts the basin and leaves the room. You don't move. You remain rooted in that spot long after the guard is gone, after the sun has set, after the other healers have gone to meal and returned. Only when they fall asleep do you finally move. [[You rush out the door and run to the circle.->Chapter6_12]]

“I saw him again!” The others stare at you as you stumble down the stairs, flushed and breathless. “Saw who?” Lion asks. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_12v1'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_12v2'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_12v3'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_12v3'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_12v3'} [continue] You continue in a rush. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen him. Months ago I noticed him watching me during a meal.” “You mean the one who takes his rounds near the clinic?” Everyone turns to Robin at their words, the silence in the room so pervasive you swear you can hear the wax melting in the candles. They glance about and shrink into themself a little. “What, you’ve never seen him? There’s an older, bearded guard who patrols the area around the clinic. I’ve seen him on each of my visits.” Your legs give out beneath you and you collapse on the bottom step, your mind numb. What does this mean? How long has he been watching you? Lion crouches down in front of you. “You said he tried to speak to you. What did he say?” “Not much, just a few words. He saw the plums and my sewing kit and told me to clean it up. I got the impression it was more a suggestion than a demand. He seemed almost… concerned.” “Do you think he could be sympathetic?” “What, a guard? Don’t be ridiculous!” Ferret exclaims. “They’re evil, vile. You can’t trust any of them.” “It would be wrong to assume all guard are soulless villains, just as you can not assume all workers are mindless drones.” Lion looks at her pointedly. “I know it seems unlikely, but what if this guard is like us? What if he, too, is different?” Could that be true? [align left] > [[No, absolutely not. You can’t trust him.->Chapter6_13v1]] > [[As far-fetched as it sounds, it would explain his actions.->Chapter6_13v2]] > [[You entertain the possibility.->Chapter6_13v3]]

“The bearded guard, the one we nearly ran into last night.” You lock gazes with Heron. “He came to the clinic tonight, after you left. And I swear he tried speaking with me.” “He what?” Heron jumps to his feet.

“The guard, older man, bushy beard. I nearly ran into him last night.” You lock gazes with Heron. “He came to the clinic tonight, after you left. And I swear he tried speaking with me.” “Wait, wait, start over. What do you mean nearly ran into?” Heron jumps to his feet.

“The bearded guard, the one we nearly ran into last night.” You lock gazes with the {loveInterest}. “He came to the clinic tonight, after Heron left. And I swear he tried speaking with me.” “Wait, wait, start over. What do you mean nearly ran into?” Heron jumps to his feet.

The guard have power, there’s no way one of them would be willing to relinquish it. And since they do have authority with the council, this guard could easily have enacted change if he wanted. Obviously, he did not. “What are we going to do?” Fawn’s soft voice breaks the silence. Bison lays an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. You and Lion look at each other. [if persona === 'Brawler'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v2'} [if persona === 'Pathfinder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v2'} [if persona === 'Leader'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v1'} [if persona === 'Supporter'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v1'} [if persona === 'Observer'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v3'} [if persona === 'Follower'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v3'} [continue]

He could have confiscated your sewing kit, questioned you, beaten you. Any other guard would have surely done just that. Why didn’t he? “What are we going to do?” Fawn’s soft voice breaks the silence. Bison lays an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. You and Lion look at each other. [if persona === 'Brawler'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v2'} [if persona === 'Pathfinder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v2'} [if persona === 'Leader'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v1'} [if persona === 'Supporter'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v1'} [if persona === 'Observer'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v3'} [if persona === 'Follower'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v3'} [continue]

It’s too easy to assume everything in this city is rotten. What if this guard is just like you—unhappy with his lot in life and in search of like-minded individuals? You find yourself daring to hope. “What are we going to do?” Fawn’s soft voice breaks the silence. Bison lays an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. You and Lion look at each other. [if persona === 'Brawler'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v2'} [if persona === 'Pathfinder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v2'} [if persona === 'Leader'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v1'} [if persona === 'Supporter'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v1'} [if persona === 'Observer'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v3'} [if persona === 'Follower'] {embed passage: 'Chapter6_14v3'} [continue]

“I think we should lay low, stay away from the circle for at least a week, maybe two,” you say. “If this guard does indeed patrol the clinic I’ll keep an eye on him, see what I can learn. He may not know about the Circle and I don’t want to react in a way that brings even more attention.” Lion nods in agreement. “I think that is a good idea.” While you have a plan, a sense of unease still lingers. You discuss recent events with the others, try to theorize what is happening. You all stay longer than usual that evening, forgoing sleep in favor of more time spent in good company, anxious over what your future holds. [[Begin Chapter 7->Journal128]]

“I think we should lay low, stay away from the circle for at least a week, maybe two,” Lion says. “This guard may not know about the Circle and I do not want to react in a way that brings even more attention.” You bristle at the idea of being forced to hide. “I disagree. I don’t want to stop coming here, we can handle one guard. And besides, this will give us more opportunities to observe him.” Lion shakes his head. “It is too dangerous. You wish to observe? Since this guard appears to remain close to the clinic, that is your best chance to watch him and learn more.” You huff in annoyance. The idea of being caged again makes your skin crawl. But Lion is right, and you don’t want to endanger your friends. “Fine, I’ll stay away. But I’m following this guard, I want to know what he’s up to.” Lion nods. “Just be careful.” While you have a plan, a sense of unease still lingers. You discuss recent events with the others, try to theorize what is happening. You all stay longer than usual that evening, forgoing sleep in favor of more time spent in good company, anxious over what your future holds. [[Begin Chapter 7->Journal128]]

“I think we should lay low, stay away from the circle for at least a week, maybe two,” Lion says. “He may not know about the Circle and I do not want to react in a way that brings even more attention.” “Will that be enough?” you ask. “Maybe we should stay away for a month and cease all contact, just to be on the safe side?” “No.” Ferret vehemently shakes her head. “I’m not doing that.” “I can watch and observe the guard,” Robin offers. “I know his route. Maybe I can find out what he’s up to, what he knows.” Lion nods in agreement. “I think that is a good idea.” While you have a plan, a sense of unease still lingers. You discuss recent events with the others, try to theorize what is happening. You all stay longer than usual that evening, forgoing sleep in favor of more time spent in good company, anxious over what your future holds. [[Begin Chapter 7->Journal128]]

~~Chapter 7~~ Several days pass without a visit to the circle. Staying away is harder than you thought—you didn’t always go every night, but the self-imposed quarantine hits harder now. It makes you anxious, restless. You’ve been taking turns sitting with different friends during meal time, as that is the only opportunity you all have together. This evening you’re sitting with Robin. [if state === 'excited' && state2nd === 'resolve'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'excited' && state2nd === 'wonder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'excited' && state2nd === 'trepidation'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'hopeful' && state2nd === 'resolve'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'hopeful' && state2nd === 'wonder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'hopeful' && state2nd === 'trepidation'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'angry' && state2nd === 'resolve'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'angry' && state2nd === 'wonder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'angry' && state2nd === 'trepidation'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v2'} [if state === 'uncertain' && state2nd === 'resolve'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'uncertain' && state2nd === 'wonder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'uncertain' && state2nd === 'trepidation'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v2'} [if state === 'scared' && state2nd === 'resolve'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v1'} [if state === 'scared' && state2nd === 'wonder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v2'} [if state === 'scared' && state2nd === 'trepidation'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_01v2'} [continue]

“You were right about that guard’s patterns,” you tell them, keeping your bowl strategically in front of your lips. “I can see him from my window. He walks here at least once a day, more if he’s bringing or picking up my water. He usually approaches from the barracks, circles the nursery, then circles the clinic. Then he heads for the hall, circles that, then back toward the barracks.” “Does he look for you?” You shake your head. “He keeps his gaze on the ground or the horizon mostly. We made eye contact once but he looked away quickly. He seemed more worried than I was.” “This is so strange,” they murmur. “He doesn’t behave like the other guard.” It certainly is a puzzle. Despite your initial alarm, he seems harmless. Which is absurd. A harmless guard? [[You shake your head to clear your thoughts.->Chapter7_02]]

“I’ve been watching that old guard as much as I can,” they tell you, their bowl strategically hiding their lips. “He walks to the clinic at least once a day, sometimes more. I think he must wake early and come to the barracks first, because I see him as we’re all leaving for work. He heads off in the direction of the clinic.” “Has he noticed you watching him?” Robin shakes their head. “He keeps his gaze on the ground or the horizon mostly. We made eye contact once but he looked right over me, as if he didn’t even see me. He seems distracted. It’s strange, he doesn’t behave like the other guard.” It certainly is a puzzle. Despite your initial alarm, he seems harmless. Which is absurd. A harmless guard? [[You shake your head to clear your thoughts.->Chapter7_02]]

“You know, you’re really observant,” you tell Robin. “He’s been walking past my clinic daily and I never noticed him before.” “You’re just focused on your patients.” “Don’t doubt yourself, Robin. You’re observant and thoughtful. It’s a good skill you have.” You can see traces of a blush beneath the ash on their face. “Thank you. I think I’m just more wary than most. I have to be.” You think back to the time the burner first came to your clinic. “Why is that?” Robin looks down at their bowl, the corners of their eyes drooping slightly. “I’m not… I don’t fit in here the way others do, the way the council wants me to. They classify everything by whether you’re a man or a woman—your job, where you sleep, your… turn in the chamber. But I don’t see myself that way. It’s difficult to explain, I just know it’s wrong.” [if gender === 'worker'] You know exactly how Robin feels, you’ve felt the same sense of unease all your life. “I know how you feel.” You shift position and your hand briefly touches their arm. To an observer it would have looked accidental. “If there’s ever a way I can help, tell me.” [else] “I’m sorry you were forced to feel like that.” You shift position and your hand briefly touches their arm. To an observer it would have looked accidental. “If there’s ever a way I can help, tell me.” [continue] “Thank you, {name}. I’ve mostly gotten used to it. And the Circle has helped a lot. I sleep downstairs so it's easier to sneak out-" The word ends on a yawn and they look at you sheepishly. "Sorry." "Are you not sleeping well?" "Not well, no, but enough." They scrunch their nose in a small pout. “The barracks are awful—they stink and I don't feel safe there. You’re lucky you can sleep in the clinic." Your eyes dart over to the clinic and you swallow slowly. “Well, what if you slept at the clinic tonight?” “What?” Robin stares at you, then remembering where you both are, quickly drops their gaze. “How? The other healers would see me.” “I don’t mean upstairs. I mean in my room, on the cot in there. You can sneak in after dark, just like we sneak into the circle. I can wake you early, before dawn, so you have time to return to the barracks.” Robin keeps their gaze lowered but you can see their eyes widen, pondering your words. “Could… could I really?” “I’ll wait for you at the bottom of the stairs. Just keep an eye out for the old guard, in case he’s wandering around again.” Robin does spare a glance at you then, and the look on their face is one of relief and delight. “I’ll do that. Thank you, {name}.” [["You’re welcome."->Chapter7_03]]

You wait until you’re sure the other healers have fallen asleep before you creep out of the room and down the stairs. You huddle in the open doorway and scan the area, relieved to see no guard in sight. A few minutes later you can make out a slim figure coming from the direction of the barracks. They dart from one building to the next till they’re at your side, a happy grin on their face. “I made it!” You can’t help smiling in return. You hold a finger to your mouth, indicating them to be quiet, then lead the way upstairs. Your clinic room is dark but you can make out shapes—your shelves, the stack of pails in the corner, the cot. Robin sits gingerly upon it, as if testing their weight. “I don’t have any extra blankets but there are some larger pieces of cloth.” You gesture to the pile on the shelf. “Some of them may work if you’re cold.” “This is great, {name}, thank you.” Robin reaches for you and you clasp their hands in yours. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” “I’m glad I can help.” [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_RobinLove'} [else] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_RobinFriend'}

“I’ll come down to wake you before sunrise," you tell them. "I don’t usually sleep long, don’t worry.” “Alright, thank you.” Before you head upstairs you spare one last look at the burner. They’ve curled into a ball on their side, their arm tucked up under their head like a pillow. Their back is to you so you can’t see their face, but their breathing is calm and steady. Peaceful. You smile to yourself and head upstairs. Robin makes it safely out of the clinic that morning in the early hours before dawn. [[You swear you see a small skip in their step as they leave.->Chapter7_04]]

Your workday is almost over when Ferret comes to you for healing. Her knee is skinned and there’s a limp to her gait. Again. You motion her over to the cot, concern flooding you as you fret over her condition. “Ferret, what happened?” You set to cleaning her wounded knee once she’s settled on the cot. Ferret is smiling brilliantly at you, ignorant of your concern. She pulls a book from under her shirt and holds it up proudly. “This happened,” she says almost cockily. A flush of anger spreads through you. “Did you get hurt trying to save that?” “Of course.” You pause in your healing to gape at her. “Ferret, you *can’t.* It’s too dangerous.” She frowns at you, frustration blanketing her features. “Do you even remember the first time you spoke to me?” she asks, dropping the book to the cot beside her. “What does that have to do with this?” you ask. Ferret huffs her annoyance. “You healed me after I brought a book to the pits,” she reminds you. [[Of course you remember.->Chapter7_05]]

You move to leave but their grip on your hands tightens, their fingers dancing nervously between your own. “Can you… um… would you stay here tonight? With me?” You look into their large eyes. You feel your heartbeat quicken and you know there's no other answer but... [["Yes."->Chapter7_RobinLove1]]

They smile happily and roll over, moving to the side of the cot to give you some room. They face the window and you climb in behind them, your chest up against their back. You bend your right arm under your head like a pillow and drape your left arm over their slim frame. "Is this okay?" you ask. "Yes, very much," they hum. They hug your arm to their chest and nestle back into you. "This is nice," they whisper after a moment. "I wish I could spend every night like this." "I'd like that," you murmur, your nose in their hair. You can smell the ash but for some reason it's not acrid like it is by the pits. It's tangy, uniquely Robin. "Just you and I, away from The City." "Away from The City? Like where?" You think for a moment. "I'd love to see the ocean someday. To be part of something so immense... can you even imagine it? To not even be able to see one end from the other? Can anything truly be that big?" "The sky, maybe." "Yes, the sky, exactly! Like falling into the sky." They chuckle. "I don't know whether I'd be terrified or in awe." "Awe. Definitely awe." "Easy for you to say. You're brave." You pause, your arm tensing around them. "So are you, dearest." Robin shakes their head, their curls tickling your nose. "No, I'm not. Not like you." You lean forward and kiss their cheek. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't brave. Remember that." They let out a soft breath of air. "Thank you." "Besides, robins are birds. You'd fit right in up there in the clouds, in the big blue." They chuckle softly. "Maybe. I'll make sure to come down often for you." "See that you do." [align left] > [[❤️ They're so warm. You lean forward and kiss their neck.->Chapter7_RobinLove1v1]] > [[You lay in silence for a moment, content in each other's warmth.->Chapter7_RobinLove1v2]]

"{name}?" "Yes, dearest?" "You make me feel safe." You nestle your head into the back of their neck. Your arms tighten, hugging them to you, and they press closer. Not long after, you fall into comfortable sleep. Robin makes it safely out of the clinic that morning in the early hours before dawn. [[You swear you see a small skip in their step as they leave.->Chapter7_04]]

They make a small noise, something between a groan and a sigh, and the sound makes your heart jump. You're so close you wonder if they can feel it thumping wildly in your chest. You kiss higher up their neck, then beneath their ear. They make the sound again and press closer to you. You move your left hand to the cot so you can push yourself up. They turn slightly into you as you lean over them and your eyes connect. Theirs are darker now—olive green and a rich umber. “Is this okay?” you ask. They nod and reach for you, pulling your head down to theirs. Your lips meet—tentative at first, then slowly growing more urgent. You bend your neck and angle your mouth over theirs, deepening the kiss. You both roll closer so that your bodies are now aligned. You still hold yourself above them, your bodies not quite touching, but you can feel the warmth emanating from them. The kiss leaves you breathless, and when you break away to breathe your eyes flutter open. Robin is watching you, their gaze expectant, but there is something else that makes you pause—something wary and guarded. You push up, placing more distance between you. “Are you alright?” you ask. They nod but don’t speak. The hand that is holding your neck is trembling. You let out the breath you had been holding and smile gently. You lay back down on the cot behind them and pull them close. “Here, let me hold you.” You hear them let out a shaky breath, then their arms encircle yours. Eventually their hands stop trembling and their breathing steadies. They scoot further back into you and kiss your knuckles where your hands are clasped together. {embed passage: 'Chapter7_RobinLove1v2'}

sound.ambient.water.url: 'Audio/water.mp3' sound.ambient.water.description: 'light airy exploratory music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'water'} *Journal Entry 146* *I barely find time to write anymore. There was a debate in the nursery about whether the caretakers should continue teaching pre-war history. Nathan and several others thought it unnecessary, given the current state of the earth. They were all kids during the war and don't remember it well.* *Keiko argued it was important to remember what happened, what came before. After all, those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it.* *Then there's the third group—the ones who simply don't care. There's a general apathy in the mood lately. It worries me. It's like we're all so concerned about surviving that we forgot to keep living.* *Things got pretty heated. Literally. Nathan tossed several books onto the cremation pyre. That is NOT what those pits were intended for. The argument turned physical. I think I broke a rib. Eventually the Guard broke it up. I’m getting too old for this.* *Keiko and I voted to keep pre-war history in the curriculum.* *We were out voted.* [[Begin Chapter 8->Chapter8_00]]

~~Chapter 8~~ It is nearing the end of another work day. You are cleaning up when you hear a soft knock at your door. When it opens you see your builder’s familiar frame in the doorway. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter8_00v1'} [else] {embed passage: 'Chapter8_00v2'}

“Lion!” you exclaim breathlessly. What is wrong with your voice? Lion must have noted the change too because his lips curl upward, the smile more predatory than gleeful. “{name}.” He speaks your name as though he were tasting it. You swallow and hastily put aside the rags you had been holding. “Come in. Are you injured?” “I am,” he says, though you wouldn’t believe it by his steady voice. He sits on the cot with his back to you. You can see the fabric of his shirt is torn from his left shoulder down, the skin beneath scratched and bloody. “Can you remove your shirt?” As he does so you examine the long scratches down his back. There are several in a jagged line, though luckily none seem very deep. A bruise is starting to form on his shoulder. “What happened?” “There was an accident involving one of the younger builders. He is unharmed,” Lion is quick to add. “We were supporting a load of clay bricks on the scaffolding above us and it gave way. I shielded him and some of the bricks struck me.” You stare at the back of his head, your concern for him mixing with pride. Not many workers would protect another like that. “That was good of you.” “It was not, it should be the normal thing to do,” he says softly. You agree but stay quiet, your attention on his wounds. You grab a clean cloth and wet it in the basin. There’s only a small amount of water left and there’s no need to portion it out first, as Lion will likely be your last patient of the day. As you set to work cleaning his wounds, you’re reminded of a similar time you both were here, just like this—him trying to save another, and you fixing the aftermath. How many more times will you repeat this scene? It troubles you to see him hurt like this. That concern feels like a vice around your chest and your breathing quickens. He tenses as if sensing the change in you. He turns in the cot and takes your hand, pulling you in front of him. “What is wrong, my healer?” “It’s… difficult to explain. I’m proud of what you did, truly. But the thought of you being injured, beyond what I can heal… it terrifies me.” His expression softens even as his eyes darken to black. “I feel the same about you.” “I think of you constantly,” you whisper, touching his cheek. He turns and places a kiss to your palm. “When I see you I forget everything else, and when I don’t see you I’m cross and impatient. When you’re near I just want to touch you,” you continue, placing your other hand behind his neck, “and when I do it makes me happy. Like deliriously happy. What is this, Lion? What is happening to us?” “Does it scare you?” [align left] > [[❤️ “No, quite the opposite.”->Chapter8_01v1]] > [[“A little,” you answer honestly.->Chapter8_01v2]]

“Lion!” you exclaim happily. “Hello, my friend.” You hastily put aside the rags you had been holding. “Come in. Are you injured?” “I am,” he says, though you wouldn’t believe it by his steady voice. He sits on the cot with his back to you. You can see the fabric of his shirt is torn from his left shoulder down, the skin beneath scratched and bloody. “Can you remove your shirt?” As he does so you examine the long scratches down his back. There are several in a jagged line, though luckily none seem very deep. A bruise is starting to form on his shoulder. “What happened?” “There was an accident involving one of the younger builders. He is unharmed,” Lion is quick to add. “We were supporting a load of clay bricks on the scaffolding above us and it gave way. I shielded him and some of the bricks struck me.” You stare at the back of his head, your concern for him mixing with pride. Not many workers would protect another like that. “That was good of you.” “It was not, it should be the normal thing to do,” he says softly. You agree but stay quiet, your attention on his wounds. You grab a clean cloth and wet it in the basin. There’s only a small amount of water left and there’s no need to portion it out first, as Lion will likely be your last patient of the day. As you set to work cleaning his wounds, you’re reminded of a similar time you both were here, just like this—him trying to save another, and you fixing the aftermath. How many more times will you repeat this scene? Just as with Ferret, Lion’s injuries hit differently now. Seeing your friend wounded fills you with concern. But this isn't about books or plums. Lion risked himself for a living, breathing person, a child. How can you tell someone not to do that? Should you even? “I think what you did was very noble,” you speak slowly, “and I’m not telling you to do things differently. But please have a care for your own safety. I hate seeing you injured.” “I will not ignore someone in need.” “I know, and I’m not asking you to. Just…” you sigh, “be careful. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.” He turns and looks at you, his gaze softer. “I will be careful, my friend. I appreciate your concern.” You nod and lay the soiled rag along the rim of the basin, then grab a clean bandage to bind his wound. Lion watches you as you work, his thoughtful gaze on the basin. “Do you ever wonder where the water comes from?” he asks, his voice distant. “Mhm, many times.” [[“Shall we find out?”->Chapter8_01]]

You pause, then move around the front to face him. “What are you talking about?” Lion keeps his gaze on the basin, his brow creased. “When the guard come for the basin tonight, we should follow them,” he speaks slowly, as if thinking through the idea, mapping it out in his head. “But how will we do that? They’ll see you.” “I will hide upstairs in your sleeping quarters. No one goes in there till after the meal, correct?” That’s true. Still a big risk, though. Lion turns to face you, a keen, mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. It’s a startling expression on his normally taciturn face, and maybe that’s what finally convinces you. Or maybe you want an adventure with your friend. Maybe you’re just as curious as he. Or maybe you’re tired of following the rules. “Let’s do it.” You quickly finish binding Lion’s wound. He makes his way upstairs, and not a moment too soon. Just as you’ve finished scrubbing the used rags, your door opens and the old guard walks in. Of *course* it’s him. You watch each other in silence. You know you should look down yet for some reason you can’t turn away. His height is rather {height}, same as you. His face is tan and weathered. The lines creasing his brow and the corners of his eyes soften his features somewhat. If you were to guess you would place him in mid to early forties, fairly old given a worker’s life span. His {eye_color} eyes study your face, then glance briefly down and settle on your left arm. “You happy here?” You blink, doubting your ears. “What?” He walks further into the room, stopping between you and the basin. “You happy healer? Is good work?” His voice is odd—his words clear and articulate as if he’s used to speaking, yet intentionally clipped. Is he… faking it? You nod dumbly, too stunned to speak. “Good,” he grunts. Then he turns away, picks up the basin, and walks out of the room. After a few moments Lion returns and you whirl on him. “Did you hear that? That was weird, right?” “Very. I wonder if…” His expression grows pensive, troubled. Then he shakes his head. “We can discuss it on the way. If we do not leave now we will lose him.” [[You nod and follow Lion, your mind clouded with questions.->Chapter8_02]]

“I want more," you say. "I want to lose myself in this feeling. Do you… feel the same?” In answer he tugs you forward. You lose your balance and fall into his lap, straddling him. “You have become everything to me, my healer,” he says, his voice low and husky. It stirs something within you. “You are the reason I open my eyes in the morning, the reason I work and eat and breathe. *You* are my purpose.” You throw your arms around his neck and lean in. “And you are mine,” you whisper in his ear. Then his mouth is on yours, hungry and insistent like a man starved. You kiss him back just as hard, your hand buried in his hair. You part his lips with yours and your tongues meet. His hands rove your back, your hips, then lower, clasping your bottom and pressing you closer still. You moan into his mouth, wanting more, so much more. There’s a noise in the stairwell and you both pull away so quickly you nearly fall off his lap. You clamber off him and step back, then realize it was the sound of a patient leaving a nearby room. You look at each other, eyes wide, then let out a shaky laugh. “Probably best not to do that here,” he says, his voice so sultry and breathless it almost makes you leap back onto his lap. “Probably not,” you say, smoothing down your shirt. You need to keep your hands busy. “The guard will be here soon for the water, we should probably finish up.” You pick up the soiled rag where it had fallen forgotten on the floor. You lay it along the rim of the basin, then grab a clean bandage to bind his wound. Lion watches you as you work, his thoughtful gaze on the basin. “Do you ever wonder where the water comes from?” he asks, his voice distant. “Mhm, many times.” [[“Shall we find out?”->Chapter8_01]]

“It scares me too, my healer,” he says, pulling you into his lap. You sit on one of his thighs, your legs dangling between his. “But you are more important to me than that fear, than any concern I have for myself. You are the reason I open my eyes in the morning, the reason I work and eat and breathe. *You* are my purpose.” You throw your arms around his neck and lean in, planting a long, tender kiss on his cheek. “And you are mine,” you whisper in his ear. He brings his arms up around you and holds you so close you can feel his heartbeat. It’s strong and fast, tethering you to this moment as much as his arms are. There’s a noise in the stairwell and you both pull away so quickly you nearly fall off his lap. You clamber off him and step back, then realize it was the sound of a patient leaving a nearby room. You look at each other, eyes wide, then let out a shaky laugh. “Probably best not to do that here,” he says with a chuckle. “Probably not,” you say, smoothing down your shirt. “The guard will be here soon for the water, we should probably finish up.” You pick up the soiled rag where it had fallen forgotten on the floor. You lay it along the rim of the basin, then grab a clean bandage to bind his wound. Lion watches you as you work, his thoughtful gaze on the basin. “Do you ever wonder where the water comes from?” he asks, his voice distant. “Mhm, many times.” [[“Shall we find out?”->Chapter8_01]]

You and Lion make your way through The City. You blend with the crowd heading for the communal meal, grateful they’re heading the same way. There’s a line of guard up ahead, all with basins retrieved from the clinic. As you approach the outskirts of the feeding station, the guard peel off and continue past. You slip unseen around the back of the station. You creep forward, keeping close to the station wall. You can feel Lion beside you, his arm occasionally brushing against yours. Several yards away walk the guard. Their steps are thankfully slow due to the heavy load they carry, so you can afford to move carefully. [if hasSwear] “Where the hell are they going?” you whisper. [else] “Where in the world are they going?” you whisper. [continue] “Where did you expect them to go?” “I don’t know. Out of The City, I suppose.” “There is no *out* of this city.” The guard continue past a building site and approach the hall. Beyond that is nothing but open land till you reach the pits. You’ll never be able to follow them there, you’d be seen for sure. They veer to the right and that’s when you see it—a small wooden structure built against the side of the hall. It’s only about ten feet in width and just barely that in height. The guard walk single file into the small structure. You and Lion scurry through the building site, making sure to stay hidden behind a half finished wall. At the end of the structure is a large pile of clay and stone bricks. You hide behind these and peer out at the shack. The last guard steps in and disappears; from your vantage you cannot see beyond the darkness of the open doorway. “Should we follow?” you ask. “Wait a moment. We would not want to run into the guard as they are coming out.” You sigh and step back. Luckily this worksite is on the outskirts of The City. The only thing on your side of the construction is red sand, and in the distance, the wall. You are safe here for the moment. “What were you thinking about, back in the clinic?” you ask Lion. “Something was bothering you. I mean more than the guard’s strange behavior.” [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter8_02v1'} [else] {embed passage: 'Chapter8_02v2'}

Lion is quiet a moment. He doesn’t look at you but instead stares straight ahead at the expanse of red sand and the wall beyond. “Do you remember when I told you my friend had a child?” “I do. Why?” “I have been considering the possibility of... relations, in The City," Lion says slowly. "Earlier, when you were speaking to the guard, I was watching from the top of the stairwell in the clinic. I had a good look at him when he left.” He pauses and swallows tightly, then peers at you. “You and he have the same shade of {eye_color} eyes. Same mouths, too.” You stare at him, your mind taking an agonizingly long time to process his words. [align left] > [[“No,” you whisper vehemently. “*No*.”->Chapter8_03v1]] > [[“You think he’s my father.”->Chapter8_03v2]]

Lion is quiet a moment. “The digger had a child,” he finally says. “What digger?” “My friend, the one from the lesson.” You suck in your breath and stare at him. He doesn’t look at you but instead stares straight ahead at the expanse of red sand and the wall in the distance. "He was a young boy no older than six or seven. My friend saw him working in the fields.” Lion continues in a rush, the words spilling over each other. “He said it was something in his eyes that he recognized. That is why he attempted to leave The City, he *and* his son.” You can't breathe but you have to ask. "What happened to his son?" “He was returned to the nursery. I have not seen him since." You reach out and grasp his hand and he squeezes yours in return. “Oh, Lion, I'm so sorry.” Then you drop his hand and tilt your head to the side. “But wait, why tell me now?” “I have been considering the possibility of... relations, in The City," Lion says slowly. "Earlier, when you were speaking to the guard, I was watching from the top of the stairwell in the clinic. I had a good look at him when he left.” He pauses and swallows tightly, then peers at you. “You and he have the same shade of {eye_color} eyes. Same mouths, too.” You stare at him, your mind taking an agonizingly long time to process his words. [align left] > [[“No,” you whisper vehemently. “*No*.”->Chapter8_03v1]] > [[“You think he’s my father.”->Chapter8_03v2]]

It’s not possible, it’s not. Because that would mean *so* many things you're not ready to think on. You noted the color of his eyes, of course you had. But you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it, to ponder what it could mean. “I am sorry,” Lion continues, his tone mirroring his apology. “At the very least, I think *he* believes himself to be your father. Based on his comment tonight, I think he may have had a hand in you becoming a healer. It is a rather… comfortable job, compared to others.” {embed passage: 'Chapter8_03'}

It’s not a question, it’s not. Because you have the same thought in the quiet moments of the night when you are alone. You noted the color of his eyes, of course you had. But you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it long, to ponder what it could mean. “I do,” Lion continues, his tone apologetic. “At the very least, I think *he* believes it. Based on his comment tonight, I think he may have had a hand in you becoming a healer. It is a rather… comfortable job, compared to others.” {embed passage: 'Chapter8_03'}

“I deal with blood and death daily. How is that comfortable?” “Think of the freedom you have, {name}. You can come and go from the clinic with ease, go anywhere in The City you want. You spend your day in a private room and you don’t have to sleep in the barracks with everyone else.” [if loveInterest === 'builder'] The world spins and you reach out to the wall to brace yourself. Instead, you find Lion’s shoulders and you hold tight. His presence is solid, steadying. Safe. “I am here,” he whispers, his arms encircling your waist. You cling to him as you struggle to process your thoughts. [else] The world spins and you have to brace a hand on the wall to steady yourself. [continue] Has this guard been aware of you all your life? Watching and manipulating everything you once took for granted? It's absurd, impossible. Well, perhaps not impossible. But still. It can’t be true. [[Can it?->Chapter8_04]]

“I am sorry," he apologizes. "I did not mean to upset you.” “It’s alright, it’s not your fault. I just… need some time.” Lion pulls you back against the wall suddenly, his eyes on something behind you. “They are coming out,” he whispers. You flatten yourself against the wall and look to the right. The guard proceed out of the shack single file, just as they had gone in. You wait till the last guard is gone - then longer still to be sure there are none left - before finally sprinting toward the shack. You stare in wonder at what you find. The only thing inside the shack is an enormous well, as wide in diameter as a man is tall. It takes up the whole of the shack. Hanging from the rafters above is a complicated looking pulley system of ropes and levers. A basin hangs from the ropes, half inside the top of the well. The pulley must be for hauling it up and down. You place your hands on the rim of the well, which comes up to your waist. Peering into the darkness you can make out bars set into the wall on one side. Reaching forward, the tips of your fingers meet with cold iron. “There’s a ladder here. It’s made of the same metal as the bell in the circle, and the candle holders below it.” “So is this,” Lion answers, eyeing the pulley. “This well must have been constructed long before The City was built. This apparatus could not have been created by our people. I wonder how old this wood is.” He runs his hand against the wall, feeling for any spots where the wood has rotted away but finds none. “Built well,” he says, his tone respectful. You roll your eyes in playful exasperation. “Please, Lion, how about a little less drooling over the super-secret, super-ancient well, hmm?” He narrows his eyes at you. “It is not drooling to say a well-built thing is well-built.” Then he snorts, a quirk to his lip as he looks about the pulley system again. “And you could use a bit of reverence yourself, {name}.” You plant your hands on your hips, your chest puffed out in an exaggerated mimicry of him, your voice lowering in a ridiculous parody. “Yes, look at me, I am Lion. I am a big, bad builder and I do not use contractions.” You purse your lips, barely able to keep the laughter at bay. Lion stills, a brow raised your way. “Better than a healer who cannot sew a plum back together to save {gender_4thPronoun} life.” [align left] > [[”Ouch,” you hiss out dramatically, a hand held to your chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, sir.”->Chapter8_05]] > [[You narrow your eyes at him. “Oof. Low blow, man, low blow.”->Chapter8_05]] > [[You frown, no longer liking this game.->Chapter8_05]]

You pull yourself over the lip of the well and begin to climb down the ladder. Lion follows. You move slowly at first, climbing for a while through complete darkness. You notice a faint glow illuminating the bottom of the tunnel. It grows as you descend, and you soon recognize the orange light given off by a fire. You can see where the tunnel ends but the ladder continues down into what appears to be a large cavernous space. As you approach, a faint breeze tickles your legs. First your feet clear the lip of the tunnel, then your waist. When your whole body is clear of the tunnel walls you stop and grip the rungs tightly, your knuckles turning white. “Oh,” you breathe. Lion halts quickly to avoid stepping on your head. “What is it? What do you see?” Wordlessly you continue your descent. When he’s finally clear you hear him gasp. “Oh.” {embed passage: 'Chapter8_06'}

Lion pulls himself over the lip of the well and begins to climb down the ladder. You follow. You move slowly at first, climbing for a while through complete darkness. You notice a faint glow illuminating the bottom of the tunnel. It grows as you descend, and you soon recognize the orange light given off by a fire. You can see where the tunnel ends but the ladder continues down into what appears to be a large cavernous space. As you approach, a faint breeze tickles your legs. Lion slows when he reaches this point. First his feet clear the lip of the tunnel, then his waist, then he descends fully into the space beyond. “Oh," he breathes. You quickly halt to avoid stepping on his head. “What is it? What do you see?” Lion continues his descent, allowing you to continue, as well. When your whole body is clear of the tunnel walls you stop and grip the rungs tightly, your knuckles turning white. “Oh." {embed passage: 'Chapter8_06'}

You have emerged into a giant, lake-filled cavern. The cavern and lake extend far out of sight down a long tunnel below ground. The breeze seems to be coming from here, causing small waves to lap gently against the sandy shore and a wooden dock. A number of torches are set into the walls of the cavern, the orange light reflected eerily off the water. A large wooden contraption of beams, buckets, rope, and pulleys is built into the dock. There’s also what appears to be a large cloth strung between beams, with buckets above and below. You see the remaining wooden basins piled into a corner of the dock. The two of you resume your climb, finally touching bottom. “This is incredible!” you exclaim, your voice echoing off the cavern walls. “There’s enough water here to supply a hundred cities.” “Perhaps not so many," Lion ventures, "but there is certainly no excuse for the miserly behavior of the council. There is more than enough here for everyone.” You walk along the water’s edge while Lion moves to study the strange contraption. You kneel on the shore and tap your finger against the surface, watching as the ripples extend outward. “I believe this is a water filtration system,” Lion calls after a moment. “Crude, but effective.” There is a hint of awe and excitement in his voice that belies his words. He sounds impressed. “Why keep all this a secret?” you ask. “Power. If the council controls the water, they control the workers. It is inhumane and disgusting,” he says with a scowl. You dip your hand into the water, cupping it in your palm. The liquid is cold, clear, and devoid of sand. You close your eyes and bring it to your lips, sighing as the water slips over your tongue and down your throat. “Well?” Lion asks, watching you. “Tastes better down here.” [if hasSwear] You stand and timidly take a few steps into the lake. The cold water bites at your ankles. “Oh, shit, that’s cold!” [else] You stand and timidly take a few steps into the lake. The cold water bites at your ankles. “Oh, wow, that’s cold!” [continue] “That is unsanitary.” You laugh at the look of censure on the builder’s face. “Pfft, come on, Lion. Where’s the courage you’re supposed to be named for?” You kick forward, splashing his legs. He startles at the cold and jumps back. Then his eyes narrow and gleam dangerously. [[Uh oh.->Chapter8_07]]

[if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter8_LionLove'} [else] {embed passage: 'Chapter8_LionFriend'}

He lunges forward into the water, kicking up a spray that covers your legs. You shriek and stumble away, splashing him as you retreat. You splash, kick, stumble, laugh for several minutes, till the both of you are thoroughly wet and exhausted. You stumble out of the lake and sit down on the dock, and Lion does the same. You lean back on your arms and gaze about the enormous room. You notice Lion’s gaze return to the wooden apparatus and you smirk. “You really do like building things, don’t you?” He turns to regard you and you incline your head toward the device. “I mean, you take pride in it. It’s not just a job to you.” “As much as it offends me to agree with anything in The City, yes, I am proud of what I do.” He looks down at his hands. “I find it fulfilling—shaping ordinary rock and clay into something useful, something that will last. I may not have had a choice in it, but I do enjoy my work. And I am good at it.” He squeezes his hands into fists and you can see the fine definition in his toned arms, his muscles bulging beneath his short-sleeved shirt. “Are you flexing right now?” you ask with a grin. “… no.” “You totally flexed!” “I do not flex. This is just how I am.” “Right. Big, bad builder.” He gives you a side-long look but you can see the corners of his lips twitching. You sit in companionable silence for a moment before climbing to your feet. “We’d better get back. It’s easy to lose track of time down here.” You offer him a hand and he stands with your assistance. {embed passage: 'Chapter8_08'}

He lunges forward into the water, kicking up a spray that covers your legs. You shriek and stumble away, splashing him as you retreat. The low rumble of his laugh echoes off the walls as he reaches for you. You twist out of his grasp and kick forward to splash him again. But the awkward turn causes you to lose your balance. Lion grabs you and pulls you toward him but your momentum keeps both of you falling. Lion twists around so that he falls beneath you, letting out a grunt when his back hits the sand. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?” He chuckles and settles his hands on your hips. “More than okay.” You’re raised up on your arms above him, your feet still in the water. His body is firm beneath yours, tense and rigid, as if waiting for a signal to move. His damp clothes cling to his skin and you can feel every curve of his body, every divot and muscle. Lion watches you closely, his eyes fixed and dilated. He takes a deep breath. “We should probably head back.” His voice is low, every word careful and controlled. He does not move. Something tethers you to the moment—his eyes, his rapid heartbeat beneath yours, his hands on your hips, maybe all of it. “I don’t want to go yet,” you whisper. He slowly lets out the breath he had been holding. “I do not want to leave either. What I want is…” He swallows, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly. “{name}, what happens in the chamber… it does not have to be so terrible. If it is consensual, that is, if both individuals want it… it is meant to be different. Would you…?” You realize what he’s asking and your breath hitches. [align left] > [[❤️ “Yes, I want that. I want you.” (sex, explicit)->Chapter8_LionLove1v1]] > [[❤️ “Yes, I want that. I want you.” (sex, fade to black)->Chapter8_LionLove1v2]] > [[❤️ “I do want that, eventually. But I’m not ready yet.”->Chapter8_LionLove1v3]] > [[“No, I don’t want to do that.”->Chapter8_LionLove1v4]]

[if hasBook] “I saved the book,” you say reluctantly, already seeing how she means to use this to prove her point. It’s just like Ferret, really. But things are different now. The danger is greater. What you risk losing is greater. You hadn’t had the Circle then, like you do now. “Why is it okay for you to risk it but not for me?” Ferret asks, her gaze narrowed, intent. You shake your head. “It’s different.” [else] Thinking of it makes you uneasy, how you weren’t brave enough to save one book. How, then, can you be brave enough to save yourself? Your friends? Your city? Your throat feels tight, the words drying up. “I saw the way you looked at the book when it was burning,” Ferret says almost accusingly. “You wanted to save it.” You shake your head. “Even if I did...” You bite your lip, hating that you’re so transparent to her. You clear your throat, try to regain your lost confidence. “Things are different now.” [continue] “How?” You huff at her stubbornness, straightening as you drop the damp cleansing cloth back into the bowl of water beside the cot. “Ferret-” “Because we’re not ignorant anymore?” You stop, considering her words. She’s not wrong, and that’s the rub of it. Things were simpler when you were ignorant. But that doesn’t mean they were better. There’s a part of you that will always understand Ferret’s anger, her restlessness, her drive. And there’s a part of you that will always admire that about her. But seeing her hurt like this... Maybe it’s because you’re a healer—because you’ve always borne witness to the aftermath. The beatings, the lessons, the brutal, violent language of The City. Maybe it’s because you’re always left patching up the remains. [[The wounds seem endless. Inevitable.->Chapter7_06]]

[if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_FerretLove'} [else] {embed passage: 'Chapter7_FerretFriend'}

You’ve never liked seeing others hurt, but it’s worse now. Worse when they have a name, when you know the sound of their laugh, when you know what they look like beneath the rain. It’s worse when they mean something to you. And maybe that’s selfish, but you can’t help it. These are your friends, your loved ones, the only ones who’ve ever spoken your name aloud—the name you chose for yourself. You want more for them, and for yourself. But you don’t know how to get it, or if it’s even possible. You don’t know how any of it gets better without hurting for it first. [align left] > [[“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You look at Ferret sternly, a determination setting to your features.->Chapter7_FerretLovev1]] > [[❤️ “Books are important, but not as much as you.”->Chapter7_FerretLovev2]]

“I’m scared.” You don’t even realize the words have left you, not until Ferret’s hand touches your shoulder. You look up, meeting her grey eyes. Her gaze is softer upon your admission, her hand squeezing your shoulder in gentle reassurance. “So am I,” she says. You almost scoff at the words. When has Ferret ever been afraid of anything? It’s her blessing and her curse. But when she says it, it feels so earnest, so vulnerable. You know it must be true. Courage is opening the Circle to strangers, when you’ve no guarantee of their secrecy or loyalty. It’s stealing books, even when you’re beaten for it. It's speaking to others when all you’ve known is silence. “But we aren’t alone anymore,” Ferret assures you, her hand slipping from your shoulder, a steadiness to her gaze, a promise in her words. You believe her, instantly and without doubt. Courage, you finally understand, is being afraid, and doing it anyway. You reach for her hand, your grip firm, afraid. [[Yet holding tight.->Chapter7_07]]

Ferret stills at your words, and you feel the wetness dotting your eyes instantly, the salt-sting of tears along your lids. You continue tending to her wound, unable to keep her gaze. You’re so angry with her, and with yourself. Angry that it’s come to this, that she’s *hurt* because of this. Angry that you’re a part of it. You dab at her wound, words clawing up your throat but none of them make it to air. It’s just a book, a stupid book. And she’s bleeding for it. You could throttle her, you’re so upset with her, and yet, you know exactly why she did it. “Hey,” she says softly, a hand going round your wrist, stopping you. You exhale slowly, blinking at her still bloody knee, the tears hot in the corners of your eyes. And then she’s reaching for your face, dragging your gaze up. “Hey, look at me.” You do, and everything slows to a halt. Her hands are at your cheeks, your knuckles white as you grip the damp cloth, your other hand bracing along the cot at the edge of her thigh. You blink up at her, swallowing back the unease, eyes shifting between hers. She lets out a shallow breath, licking her lips. “What did you say?” “I said-” You stop, your voice breaking, and maybe it’s the way she’s looking at you, maybe it’s the warmth of her hands upon your face, maybe it’s the way she leans imperceptibly closer. Maybe it’s just that the truth has never come as easily as it has now. “I said you’re more important,” you tell her, gaze never leaving hers. Your eyes are dry now, your vision clear. Ferret smiles brilliantly, and the sight makes your chest ache. She surges forward, crashing her lips to yours, and you only have a moment of surprise before you’re kissing her back, just as fervently, just as desperately. You drop the cloth along the floor in your haste to hold her, your hands going to her waist now, dragging her into you as you deepen the kiss. She sighs against your mouth, her hands sliding to the back of your head, holding you to her. When you break from each other, her laugh paints your lips—light and joyous and free. It’s a reckless, heady kind of laugh. The kind that promises more. The kind that has you smiling just as recklessly. You brace your forehead to hers, your hands folding around her waist tenderly. She smiles against your lips. The book sits atop the cot, forgotten. [[There are more important things, after all.->Chapter7_07]]

She looks back at you just as fiercely. “I’m not going to stop,” she says, chin lifted, almost daring in her tone. But you know this about her already, and you grab for the damp cloth again, a snort leaving you. “Figured you’d say that.” Ferret purses her lips, watching you. “I’m serious. I’m not going to stop.” “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m a healer.” She stills then, watching you as you attend to her wound. This is how you help, how you protect them. You speak, and you heal. [[If you’re lucky, sometimes it’s one and the same.->Chapter7_07]]

That evening after getting your meal you look around for a place to sit, and find Lion and Bison sitting together. You sit quietly behind Bison, trying not to disturb them or draw too much attention. “-maybe I could write her something. Do you think she’d like that?” “I do, that is a lovely idea.” The first voice startles you. It’s low and deep, like thunder rolling in over the mountains. You stare at the back of Bison’s head, your bowl paused at your lips. Lion notices you and shifts his gaze. “What do you think, {name}?” he asks, his voice amused. “You have gotten fairly close to Fawn, have you not?” Bison peers over his shoulder at you, his calm gaze meeting your shocked one. “What’s wrong with you?” You spit out your stew, barely avoiding hitting Bison. Beside him Lion struggles to keep his expression neutral, but you can see his shoulders quiver with laughter. “You!” Your voice is something between a squeak and a hiss. “You can speak?!” “Oh. Yeah.” “But… what… you… why haven’t you said anything all this time?” “When I first tried speaking I sounded a lot like the guard,” Bison says, his voice grim. “It scared Fawn, so I haven’t done it since. Lion is the only one I speak to. Well, you too, I guess.” You turn your {eye_color} gaze to the builder. “You told me he was… what was the word?” “Institutionalized.” “What’d you call me?” At this point Lion does release a sharp laugh, but quickly covers it with a cough. You glare at him. [align left] > [[“It’s not funny.”->Chapter7_07v1]] > [[It’s a little funny.->Chapter7_07v2]] > [[“It’s not funny.” That’s a lie, but you’re not giving him the satisfaction.->Chapter7_07v3]]

"I am sorry," Lion says earnestly. "It was not my secret to tell." Bison levels his gaze on you. "Don't be mad at him. I didn't want anyone else to know. Didn't seem right to tell others, but not Fawn." You nod in understanding. "Your secret is safe with me." {embed passage: 'Chapter7_08'}

You chuckle and shake your head, sipping on your stew. "I can't believe you could speak all this time. And so well." Bison smirks and tips his head toward Lion. "Much better than this elitist, yeah?" You snort into your stew. {embed passage: 'Chapter7_08'}

"So, how would I do this?" Bison asks. "Writing, I mean?" You think for a moment. "What about the ash in the fire pits? If we blended it with water or maybe one of my oils, I bet we could make something like ink. Then maybe use a stick to write with?" "As far as something to write on," Lion speaks slowly, "it would have to be something small, something Fawn can keep hidden on her person. You do not want to risk anyone finding it." "Ferret brought me a book today," you offer. "I can rip out one of the empty pages." Lion blanches, before his gaze resolves. "I suppose it is for a good cause." He looks at you and lifts a brow. "Does she do that often? Bring you books?" [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] "Not often, but I'm sure it won't be the last time. Ferret will do as she does." Your face reddens at the memory. Lion notices and smiles encouragingly. "I am happy to see the two of you getting on. You complement one another." "Thank you." [else] "Not often, but I'm sure it won't be the last time. Ferret will do as she does." You smile at the memory. "That she will.” [continue] The three of you finish your meal in companionable silence. You’re comforted by the nearness of their bodies, of the deliberateness of their movements, of the knowledge of their names and voices. The Circle has become a part of you, as constant and familiar as the sand on your skin. As easy as the breath in your lungs. Just a few more days before you can return. [[Begin Chapter 8->Journal146]]

~~Chapter 9~~ Three days later, you return to the Circle. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] You sit on the bottom step of the stairwell and Lion sits behind on a step higher. You sit between his legs and his arms hold tight to your waist, his chin perched on your shoulder. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] You and Heron sit together near one of the piles of books. He lounges with one knee up and his back against the wall. His right hand is balanced on his knee and his left casually rests on your waist as you sit in front of him, leaning against his shoulder. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You are seated on a crate at the table and Robin sits beside you. You both rest your arms on the table, your hands clasped, your fingers interlaced. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You are sitting on the floor against the wall, your knees drawn up in front of you. Ferret sits beside you in the same manor, her shoulder touching yours. Your hands are clasped on the floor between you, her grip strong. [if loveInterest === 'none'] You are seated on a crate at the table, your hands clasped on the wooden surface in front of you. [continue] You have just finished filling everyone in on your activities over the last few days—your and Lion’s discovery of the underground water and the unusual behavior of the older guard. You stop short of telling them about your suspicions of him being your father. That is a mess you’re not willing to sort just yet. “So, do we think it’s safe then?” Fawn asks after a prolonged silence. “I believe so,” you answer. “The guard doesn’t seem to have any interest in the circle, nor in approaching us. But remain alert, just in case.” “Good.” Robin lets out a breath. “I missed this place.” [if loveInterest === 'burner'] “I’m going to watch the fire for awhile,” they continue, standing up. They squeeze your hand before releasing it. “I can keep an eye out for the guard, too, just in case.” [else] “I’m going to watch the fire for awhile,” they continue, standing up. “I can keep an eye out for the guard, too, just in case.” [continue] “Do you want some company?” “I’m alright, but thank you.” Robin smiles at you before heading up the stairs. You chat with the others for a time—everyone seems much more at ease being back together. After awhile you realize Robin hasn’t returned. For having missed the Circle as much as they claim, it’s odd they’re not with you. You head upstairs to check on them. You’re just a few steps from the top when you hear a strange sound—it’s a light, rhythmical tinkling noise. It’s followed by the sound of feet on stone, then the tinkling again. Curious, you continue topside, turning toward the raised platform in time to see a coiled metal spring falling down the stairs, the metal rings flowing into each other, then pouring down onto the next step. The movement is stilted, as if the coils were bent, causing the slinky to lurch to the right on each step. The stumbling pattern repeats over and over till it hits the sandy floor. You look up at Robin sitting cross legged on the platform, smiling sheepishly at you. “Is that what I think it is?” you ask. “I believe it’s called a slinky,” they say. They stand up and scamper down the steps to retrieve the metal toy. “I saw a picture of it in one of the children’s books.” You nod. “I think I read that same book. Wherever did you find it?” You climb up the stairs and sit down beside Robin as they settle into their position once more. They pass the slinky from one hand to another, watching as it spills awkwardly between their hands. “I rescued it from the pits today. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that gets tossed in the fires. I’ve seen forks and spoons, stuffed dolls, strange devices with buttons—I think they were phones. Shoes.” Their brow furrows. “I never hesitated to burn those items before. Now that I recognize them, I find it… sad. We’re not just destroying objects, we’re destroying our past. Everything that made this world wonderful, just… gone, as if it never existed, as if it never mattered.” Robin turns to you, their expression bleak. “Why would anyone do that? Why would anyone *want* that?” [align left] > [[You don’t know, and you search for meaning behind it. There has to be a reason.->Chapter9_01v1]] > [[You have no answer; you find it just as sad.->Chapter9_01v2]] > [[It makes you angry. You need a moment to collect yourself before you can answer.->Chapter9_01v3]]

You make your way back up the ladder. When you arrive at the top you’re relieved to see it’s still dark out, the streets quiet and empty. Lion walks you back to the clinic before making his way to the barracks. [[Begin Chapter 9->Journal184]]

sound.ambient.love.url: 'Audio/love.mp3' sound.ambient.love.description: 'hopeful joyous music that builds' -- {ambient sound: 'love'} Lions smiles then, an expression filled with so much tenderness it makes your heart ache even as it thumps harder in your chest. He raises himself up and kisses you, his tongue delving into your mouth. A breathless moan spills past your lips and you melt against him. “{name},” he breathes, breaking contact with your mouth. You let out a mew of protest but the sound ends in a plea as he slowly kisses along your cheek and down your neck, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. He cups your bottom and pulls you hard against him, and a tremulous groan catches in your throat. You run your hand up his neck and into the short coils of his hair, angling his head back so you can meet his kiss. Your thumb brushes over his scar and he flinches slightly, the gesture almost indiscernible. You lean down and press your lips to his scar, then continue upward, feathering your lips along his cheekbones, below his ear. Then you take his earlobe between your teeth. He shudders and swears under his breath. “Now, that was quite vulgar,” you chuckle against his ear. The growl that follows sends a shiver down your spine. He lunges up into a sitting position, you straddling him. He crushes his lips to yours, your tongues dancing together, your hands exploring, caressing. When he pulls back he drops his hands to the bottom of your shirt and his intense gaze seeks yours. “Are you certain?” You nod. “Absolutely.” He lifts your shirt up over your head and tosses it to the side. His gaze roves over your chest, his eyes dark and smoldering. Your skin is aflame yet you can’t help but shiver at the way he admires you. “You are magnificent, my healer,” he purrs. [if gender === 'woman'] He leans forward and kisses your chest right above your breasts. You shudder and arch your back, digging your nails into his shoulders. His strong arms are holding you to him, one hand pressed against the small of your back and one behind your neck. His lips move lower, his kisses slow and languid. When he reaches the tip of your breast you have only a moment to register his tongue flick against the hard tip, before he takes it in his mouth. A warmth pools between your legs and you press your hips to his. He palms one of your breasts as he sucks upon the other, his tongue swirling around the tip. The way he kisses you leaves you aware of every nerve in your skin, of his tense thighs between yours, of the hard ridge underneath his clothes. “Lion,” you plead, “I need...” You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for, only that this feels good, so good. And you’re desperate for more. [if gender === 'man'] He leans forward and kisses your chest. You shudder and arch your back, digging your nails into his shoulders. His strong arms are holding you to him, one hand pressed against the small of your back and one behind your neck. His lips move lower, his kisses slow and languid. He stops at the patch of hair that trickles down from your naval, his breath fanning your waist. The way he kisses you leaves you aware of every nerve in your skin, of his tense thighs between yours, of the hard ridge underneath his clothes. Your own erection is straining against your pants and you thrust your hips forward, reveling in the sensation of his hardness against yours. “Lion,” you plead, “I need...” You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for, only that this feels good, so good. And you’re desperate for more. [if gender === 'worker'] He leans forward and kisses your chest. You shudder and arch your back, digging your nails into his shoulders. His strong arms are holding you to him, one hand pressed against the small of your back and one behind your neck. His lips move lower, his kisses slow and languid. He stops just below your naval, his breath fanning your waist. The way he kisses you leaves you aware of every nerve in your skin, of his tense thighs between yours, of the hard ridge underneath his clothes. You thrust your hips against his. “Lion,” you plead, “I need...” You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for, only that this feels good, so good. And you’re desperate for more. [continue] He makes a noise in the back of his throat, something akin to a growl, and lowers you back to the sand. He quickly pulls his shirt off, then makes as if to remove your pants. You reach up and run your hands over his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles. Your touch makes him pause, and he closes his eyes with a moan. Your hand trails experimentally downward, teasing the bulge in his pants. You’re captivated by his reactions—the way he shudders at your touch, his rapid breathing, the taut line of his bare shoulders. You grip him through his pants and he hisses when your hand clenches around his shaft. “Did that hurt?” you ask. He swallows and opens his eyes—they are fathomless, the pupils small black pinpricks against a russet brown. “No. On the contrary,” he rasps, “it feels very good.” He bends down and places a kiss above your collarbone, his tongue lapping in the hollow of your skin. You tighten your grip on him, stroking your hand up and down, and he moans against your neck, the vibration causing a heat to pool low in your abdomen. “I want to make you feel good, too, {name}.” He finishes removing your pants and undergarments, then his own—then there is nothing but his skin on yours, his breath hot against your neck, his eyes devouring you. You should feel exposed, vulnerable. But his touch is so tender as he traces the curve of your hips, your thighs, and the look in his eyes so hungry, so adoring, that all you feel is wanted. *Powerful*. [if gender === 'woman'] His hand trails downward, his touch ghosting and electric, teasing against your inner thigh. Then his fingers are between your legs, stroking you as you arch against his hand. He slides a finger inside you, rubbing and grazing that tender part, then presses a second finger in. You gasp and throw your head back. “Ah, if what I did to you felt anything like that…” you pant, writhing against his hand. Lion chuckles against your neck, his hand palming you meaningfully, and you buck against his hand. He brings his mouth up to yours, his lips bruising, his tongue mirroring the manipulations of his fingers, swallowing the sound of your moans. He removes his hand and you whimper against his lips. But the loss is brief. He enters you slowly, releasing a deep, guttural groan as he fills you. The heat between your legs coils tighter and you arch your back off the ground, taking him deeper. His eyes are fixed on yours, savoring your every reaction; and you, his. You don’t feel the discomfort you had in the chamber, only a glorious and perfect sensation as your body stretches around him. This moment, this intimacy with someone you care for, someone you chose, is everything *right*, and that surety intensifies the passion even further. He pulls out and thrusts back in, his rhythm quickening, his breathing becoming ragged. You wrap your legs around him and clutch at his shoulders, matching his rhythm. Every thrust, every stroke, builds upon the tight pressure growing between your legs. You keep your eyes on his—satisfaction pooling in you at the low growl that erupts from his throat when you drag your nails down his naked back, in the way his hips jerk when you join your hand down between your bodies. These are not just his strokes, but yours. You lay claim to this moment as much as he lays claim to your body. There is no chamber, no city. There is only him—his weight, his breath, his body bearing down on yours as you both join so intimately. The pressure builds till it is almost unbearable, like a spring coiling tightly, begging to be released. You grind your hips against his, chasing the feeling, but it escapes you. Then he reaches down and touches you right where you need it most. Your whole body tenses, then shudders, and the heat that has been building finally flares, blinding and incredible, and you cry out in release. You feel him thicken and twitch inside you, before he pulls out at the last moment, expending himself in the sand. You hold tightly to each other as the pressure subsides—your muscles tense, your breathing ragged, a thin sheen of sweat on both of your bodies. Lion gently kisses you once more, lingering against your lips before he lays back down on the sand. He pulls you against him, your head on his chest as he strokes your back. [if gender === 'man'] His hand trails downward, his touch ghosting and electric, teasing against your inner thigh. Then his fingers close around you, clenching you, stroking you as you pump against his hand. You gasp and throw your head back. “Ah, if what I did to you felt anything like that…” you pant, writhing into his hand. Lion chuckles against your neck, his hand squeezing meaningfully, and you buck against him. He brings his mouth up to yours, his lips bruising, his tongue penetrating your mouth, swallowing the sound of your moans. The ache builds and you whimper against his lips. Then he’s grinding against you, his eyes on yours, savoring your every reaction. You reach down and take him in hand, a deep instinct guiding you to find the right rhythm, the delicious *friction.* You join him stroke for stroke, your hips rutting together, your hands trapped where your bodies are joined, his skin hot against yours as the rapturous feeling builds. You don’t feel the discomfort you had in the chamber, only a glorious and perfect sensation. This moment, this being with another man, is nothing you could have imagined and everything *right*, and that surety intensifies the passion even further. You keep your eyes on his—satisfaction pooling in you at the low growl that erupts from his throat when you drag your nails down his naked back, in the way his hips jerk when your grip shifts. These are not just his strokes, but yours. You lay claim to this moment as much as he. There is no chamber, no city. There is only him—his weight, his breath, his body bearing down on yours as you both join so intimately. The pressure builds till it is almost unbearable, begging to be released. Your whole body tenses, then shudders, and the heat that has been building finally flares, blinding and incredible. You feel him thicken and pulse in your hand just as you spasm and release, and he follows a second after you, his throaty cry merging with yours. You hold tightly to each other as the pressure subsides—your muscles tense, your breathing ragged, a thin sheen of sweat on both of your bodies. Lion gently kisses you once more, lingering against your lips before he lays back down on the sand. He pulls you against him, your head on his chest as he strokes your back. [if gender === 'worker'] His hand trails downward, his touch ghosting and electric, teasing against your inner thigh. Then his hand is between your legs, stroking you as you arch against his hand. You gasp and throw your head back. “Ah, if what I did to you felt anything like that…” you pant, writhing into his hand. Lion chuckles against your neck, his hand palming you meaningfully, and you buck against him. He brings his mouth up to yours, his lips bruising, his tongue penetrating your mouth, swallowing the sound of your moans. The ache builds and you whimper against his lips. Then he’s grinding against you, his eyes on yours, savoring your every reaction. You join him thrust for thrust, your hips rutting together, his skin hot against yours as the rapturous feeling builds. You don’t feel the discomfort you had in the chamber, only a glorious and perfect sensation. This moment, this intimacy with someone you care for, someone you chose, is everything *right*, and that surety intensifies the passion even further. You keep your eyes on his—satisfaction pooling in you at the low growl that erupts from his throat when you drag your nails down his naked back, in the way his hips jerk when you join your hand down between your bodies. These are not just his strokes, but yours. You lay claim to this moment as much as he. There is no chamber, no city. There is only him—his weight, his breath, his body bearing down on yours as you both join so intimately. The pressure builds till it is almost unbearable, like a spring coiling tightly, begging to be released. Your whole body tenses, then shudders, and the heat that has been building finally flares, blinding and incredible. You feel him thicken and pulse in your hand just as you cry out, and he follows a second after you, his throaty cry merging with yours. You hold tightly to each other as the pressure subsides—your muscles tense, your breathing ragged, a thin sheen of sweat on both of your bodies. Lion gently kisses you once more, lingering against your lips before he lays back down on the sand. He pulls you against him, your head on his chest as he strokes your back. [continue] You lie in his arms, listening to the beating of his heart as it slows and steadies. You press a kiss to his neck and he hums in delight. This man risked everything for you. He had no reason to answer you that fateful day in the clinic, no reason to approach you afterwards. Allowing you into the circle, introducing you to his friends, permitting you this intimacy—the amount of trust he places in you is humbling and touching. If he can trust you like this, you know you can trust him with your heart. [align left] > [[This is love, you know it. You want to tell him so.->Chapter8_LionLove3v1]] > [[This is love, you know it. But does he feel the same?->Chapter8_LionLove3v2]]

“I understand, and I will never pressure you,” Lion says gently. His grip on your hips relaxes. “I want you to feel safe with me.” You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Thank you, Lion,” you speak against his lips. “I do feel safe with you, very much so.” He pulls back in order to look at you—his gaze devoted, affectionate, and fixed unwaveringly on you. “I love you, {name},” he whispers, his voice thick, awe-struck. You can feel tears tickling the corner of your eyes and you blink them away. “I love you, too.” You share another kiss, short but infinitely tender. When you break away you are both smiling. “As much as I would love to remain here with you, we need to get back,” you say, standing. “It’s easy to lose track of time down here.” You offer him a hand and he stands with your assistance. {embed passage: 'Chapter8_08'}

“I understand, and I will never pressure you,” Lion says gently. His grip on your hips relaxes. “I care for you, {name}, deeply. I want you to feel safe with me.” You know he means it. He will protect you, care for you, be there for you when you need it. And you will do the same for him. There is a warmth in your chest, a certainty in your heart, peace in your mind. It is enough. “I do, Lion, thank you.” You smile affectionately at him and he returns it. You climb off of him, then offer him a hand. “It’s easy to lose track of time down here. We’d better get back.” {embed passage: 'Chapter8_08'}

“Lion?” “Yes, my healer?” he asks in that voice that makes your toes curl. “I love you.” His hand stills and he pulls back in order to look at you. His gaze is devoted, affectionate, and fixed unwaveringly on you. “I love you, too,” he whispers, his voice thick, awe-struck. You share a kiss—less passionate than before but infinitely more tender. When you break away you are both smiling. “As much as I would love to remain here with you, we need to get back,” he says. “We do not know how much time has passed down here.” You groan and snuggle closer. He chuckles and stirs beneath you, forcing you to move. The two of you stand and get dressed. Your clothes are still damp and you feel a chill as you put them on, missing the warmth of his arms. {embed passage: 'Chapter8_08'}

His hand stills suddenly and he pulls back in order to look at you. His gaze is devoted, affectionate, and fixed unwaveringly on you. “I love you, {name},” he whispers, his voice thick, awe-struck. You can feel tears tickling the corners of your eyes and you blink them away. “I love you, too.” You share a kiss—less passionate than before but infinitely more tender. When you break away you are both smiling. “As much as I would love to remain here with you, we need to get back,” he says. “We do not know how much time has passed down here.” You groan and snuggle closer. He chuckles and stirs beneath you, forcing you to move. The two of you stand and get dressed. Your clothes are still damp and you feel a chill as you put them on, missing the warmth of his arms. {embed passage: 'Chapter8_08'}

{ambient sound: 'water'} *Journal Entry 184* *The topic of population control came up again today. The new councilors have been pushing for what they've coined "purposeful propagation." It's basically a planned way to ensure the survival of the human race, without overly taxing our resources. Sounds too clinical to me. But my vote doesn’t carry as much weight as it used to.* *They put the idea forward during the recent public quorum, and asked for volunteers. Elsie stepped forward. She’s been alone for so long, I can’t help but think this was her way of seeking some kind of human connection. But she’s only 17, far too young to volunteer for something like this. I suggested we make the minimum age 20 for volunteers.* *At least they listened to me on that much.* [[Begin Chapter 9->Chapter9_01]]

Lion chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, enough of this. It is hardly the time.” His smirk slips slowly from his face as he settles his hands along the edge of the well, glancing down into the darkness below. “They must raise and lower the bins with the pulley," he says, "then use the ladder to reach the water supply itself.” He looks at you. “Shall we see where it leads?” You nod in agreement, the playfulness of the conversation easing some of the tension from your earlier talk of the guard. Your attention returns back to the well, refocused. [align left] > [[You go first.->Chapter8_06v1]] > [[Lion goes first.->Chapter8_06v2]]

“I’ve wondered the same thing,” you sigh, drawing your knees up in front of you. “Perhaps something awful happened long ago, something terrible The City founders wanted to forget.” “Something worse than this?” Robin asks, lifting their brow and looking around. You chuckle grimly. “Hard to imagine, I know.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_02'}

“I’ve wondered the same thing, and I can’t think of any good reason,” you sigh, drawing your knees up in front of you. “It seems deliberately hurtful and cruel.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_02'}

“Because it makes it easier for the council to control us,” you say, your voice a low growl. “They hide knowledge from us the same way they hide the water. It makes us more compliant, less human.” “Yes, but for what purpose? What could possibly be their goal?” “Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe they’re just evil.” You shake your head sadly. “Maybe we’re looking for meaning where it simply doesn’t exist.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_02'}

“It’s so wasteful,” Robin mutters, shaking their head. “I find myself wondering about it a lot, the world before this one. I wonder if people appreciated the freedom they had—not just the freedom to do what they wanted, but to *think* what they wanted.” They run their finger along one of the bent and worn coils. “I always knew I didn't fit in, that I didn’t fit within the council’s rules," they muse. "But now I see that the rules weren’t just put in place by the council, they were built by me, too. It never occurred to me that I could give myself permission. I was in a box, and that was okay, because I could paint the box, shape it, maybe poke some holes in it to make it more breathable.” They look up at you, their eyes glistening, their mouth a hard line. “I never realized I could open the box. Not till you spoke to me, not till the Circle.” The slinky falls from their hands and spills down the stairs, an iron waterfall reflecting the light from the fire behind you in pulsing, orange waves. It lands at the bottom in a small puff of red dust. You stand and slowly make your way down the stairs, bending to retrieve the slinky at the bottom. You spin it about in your hands for a moment before looking up. “Robin, you are the most considerate, attentive, thoughtful person I know,” you say, meeting their gaze, their eyes widening at your words. “And as much as I may have helped you, you also helped me. You keep me hopeful, you teach me to look at things differently, to look with wonder.” You slowly walk back up the steps, stretching the slinky between your hands. “We’re like the circles in this slinky—a little bent, a little broken, but linked together, helping each other move forward.” At the top you sit down beside Robin and drop the slinky into their hand. They immediately pass it back, then you repeat, both of you concentrating on the simple, calming motion of the slinky as it moves between your hands. “Whatever else ends up in those pits, whatever else they burn,” you say firmly, “they can’t destroy us. We found the books and we found our words. We found each other.” Robin smiles at that. “And *we* matter.” [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You lean your head on their shoulder and feel the tickle of their hair against your cheek when they press a kiss to your forehead. [else] You smile back at them, the slinky dancing back and forth between you. [continue] You’re so lost in your thoughts, listening to the sound of the slinky passing between you, that it takes a moment for another sound to register. It eases into your consciousness like a low murmur—soft, lilting, and hauntingly beautiful. Robin closes their fist around the slinky and you both look at each other in confusion. “Is that… singing?” they ask. You both jump to your feet and hurry down the stairs, slowing as you reach the bottom. You suck in your breath at the sight that greets you. Ferret is sitting with her back to the wall, her hands folded over a closed book in her lap. Her head is tilted back against the wall, her eyes closed, her mouth open. [[And the melodic tones emerging from her throat are captivating.->Chapter9_03]]

She’s not singing any actual words, but the throaty chords weave and bend in their own rhythm—sometimes high, sometimes low, but always wondrous. Everyone in the room silently watches her, their expressions a mix of admiration and awe. She eventually trails off, her voice receding on a tranquil note. She takes a moment to catch her breath, then she opens her eyes, her gaze widening even further when she sees you all staring. “Ferret, that was lovely,” Robin breathes. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] Ferret coughs and ducks her head, her dark locks cascading down to hide her face. Is she… blushing? You glance at Robin. They’re watching her with a small, pensive smile, their dual eyes soft and wide. Their expression is similar to the one Bison wears when he looks at Fawn, or Lion’s when he looks at you. You glance back and forth between the two of them with a dawning realization, and you smile to yourself. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] Ferret coughs and ducks her head, her dark locks cascading down to hide her face. Is she… blushing? You glance at Robin. They’re watching her with a small, pensive smile, their dual eyes soft and wide. Their expression is similar to the one Bison wears when he looks at Fawn, or Heron’s when he looks at you. You glance back and forth between the two of them with a dawning realization, and you smile to yourself. [if loveInterest === 'none'] Ferret coughs and ducks her head, her dark locks cascading down to hide her face. Is she… blushing? You glance at Robin. They’re watching her with a small, pensive smile, their dual eyes soft and wide. Their expression is similar to the one Bison wears when he looks at Fawn. You glance back and forth between the two of them with a dawning realization, and you smile to yourself. [else] Ferret snorts and shakes her head, looking a little uncomfortable with the attention. [continue] “I read about singing in my book,” she shrugs absently. “I was just curious if I could do it.” Bison leans forward from where he sits across from her. He raises his arm and gives her a silent thumbs up. He’s such a large ox of a man and his expression so intense that it makes the gesture more awkward than encouraging. Ferret stares at the thumb in her face, blinks, then erupts in laughter. Her voice rings out through the circle and you wonder now how you could have missed the melodious tone to it. Then you realize she’s never laughed so freely before. You chuckle and you hear other voices echoing yours. Ferret pushes her hair behind her ears and smirks at Bison. “Thanks, big guy.” He nods in reply and lowers his arm. Fawn pats him on the shoulder when he settles back into place beside her. You gaze fondly at the faces of your friends, a warm feeling of certainty enveloping you. *This* is where you belong—among these people, these kindred hearts. [[You are whole again.->Chapter9_04]]

When you leave for the circle the next evening, you find Heron waiting for you outside the clinic. “Hey,” he says, pushing himself off the wall, his ponytail swishing behind him. “Hey, yourself. Is everything okay?” “Yeah, I just wanted a chance to speak to you, before you got to the circle. Mind if I walk with you?” “Not at all.” Heron turns his feet toward the circle and you follow, keeping to the shadows. You notice he’s taking a broad, meandering path there, probably to give you more time to converse. “What did you want to talk about?” you ask. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] “Maybe I just wanted to have you all to myself,” he says playfully, bumping your shoulder. You chuckle softly and return the gesture. “Should have known it was something dishonorable.” “I’m always honorable. In fact, I thought maybe *you* would want to talk.” [else] “Actually, I thought maybe *you* would want to talk.” [continue] At your quizzical look, he continues. “Okay, so, maybe I’m reading too much into it, but you seemed uncomfortable talking about the guard last night. I thought maybe there was more you didn’t want to unpack in front of everyone. If you need an ear, I’m willing to listen.” He grins at you, the blue of his eyes disarming. “I’m also willing to shut up and drop it if you tell me to get stuffed. I’m flexible.” You should have known Heron would pick up on your thoughts. He was always attentive when you were young—tucking an extra blanket around you on cold nights, diverting the attention of the takers when you failed a task, slipping his hand into yours when the guard were near. It’s indescribably touching that even now, 15 years later, he can still read you like a book. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] But the man that walks beside you is no platonic childhood friend, nor a doting brother. When you look at Heron now you see a friendly smile, yes—but you also see a handsomely chiseled face, the beautiful line of his shoulders, lean muscles, slender fingers, and eyes so blue you can drown in them. He is as passionate as he is playful, as alluring as he is attentive. And he makes you laugh as easily as he makes you tongue tied. You love this new Heron. [else] The man that walks beside you now is the same as your childhood friend, yet also not. His playfulness is still there, but tempered by maturity. His attentiveness now contains a layer of affection. He is more brother than companion, more family than friend. You cherish this new Heron. [continue] You had been hesitant to discuss the guard, but Heron sets you at ease. Perhaps it would be best to clear your mind of these thoughts. [align left] > [[You tell Heron your suspicions about the guard.->Chapter9_04v1]] > [[You say nothing. You aren’t ready to voice these thoughts.->Chapter9_04v2]]

You speak quickly, your words tumbling over each other as you rush to get it all out. Heron listens attentively without interrupting, his expression shifting from disbelief to concern to thoughtful. “It all makes a tragic kind of sense,” you conclude. “My being a healer. His patrols around the clinic. The fact that no other guard approach me when I walk through The City.” “That could all be an extraordinary coincidence.” You raise an eyebrow and look at him sideways. “And the fact that we look alike?” “Less likely a coincidence,” he admits with a nod. “How do you feel about him being your father?” [align left] > [[You’re happy about it.->Chapter9_05v1]] > [[You’re amenable to the idea.->Chapter9_05v2]] > [[You’re unsure.->Chapter9_05v3]] > [[You hate it.->Chapter9_05v4]]

“I appreciate it, Heron, I do, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” “Right. Get stuffed it is.” You chuckle and lightly punch his arm. He smiles at you, his blue eyes luminous in the dark. “In all seriousness, {name}, if you’re never ready to share, that’s fine, too. Whatever you say or don’t say is your business.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_06'}

You smile at the friendly jostle. “Thank you.” Your steps have brought you alongside the fields. You study the long planted rows and the small copse of trees that make up the orchard. “It’s a wonder anything grows here,” you muse. The broader meaning of your words is not lost on you. “It must be stressful for the gatherers, working day to day to make sure there’s enough food for everyone.” Heron snorts and his gaze darkens. “It’s not, not really—the guard make it stressful.” “What do you mean?” “There’s plenty of food,” Heron explains. “No reason for the council to be stingy and limit us to one meal.” You think back to what you’ve seen of the feeding station—the single line of shelves along the back corner seemed well stocked, but hardly what you would call *plenty*. Heron seems to pick up on your disbelief. A mischievous twinkle alights in his eyes and he nods his head toward the feeding station. “Let me show you something.” You follow his lean form as he deftly navigates through the dark, the glow from the pits in the distance casting an eerie glow on the feeding station looming ahead. It appears much larger without the usual throng of workers about. Heron leads you past the long table and brings you to a halt in front of the ovens at the back. You can just barely make out the shape of a door between two large ovens, their shadows obscuring it further. You recall seeing the feeders going in and out of there; you assumed it was some sort of food preparation room. Heron takes your hand in his and opens the door with his free hand. The room beyond is not exceptionally deep, but it is long—you guess it to stretch the entire back wall of the station. There are narrow, rectangular windows along the top, allowing in an orange light from the pits. You can easily make out the long aisles and crowded shelves, but it takes you a moment to register the sight. You look around in awe—shelves upon shelves covering the walls, barrels of vegetables lining the aisles between them, sacks of grain, stores of salt. It’s enough food to feed a hundred cities, you think. You blink dumbly around you, your hand still linked with Heron’s. It’s only when he slips from your hold that you finally find your voice. “What... what is all this?” Heron walks over to the nearest barrel, grabbing a potato from the top and tossing it into the air, catching it easily. His gaze is hardened when it meets yours again. “Just another thing the council keeps from us, I guess. Another way to control us.” The anger in his voice is unfamiliar to you. “Hey,” you say, walking over to him and resting a hand along his arm. He drops the potato back atop the pile, a scoff leaving him. “I guess I never really thought much about it all these years. Because I trusted the council, you know? Trusted in their guidance, their decisions. I lived for The City, played my role. I did all of it, all that was asked of us. I was the perfect little worker. Unquestioning.” There’s a bitterness to his voice that makes your chest grow tight. [align left] > [[“You had no choice. None of us had a choice.”->Chapter9_06v1]] > [[“But that isn’t you anymore. And we have a chance to make things better now.”->Chapter9_06v2]] > [[“Then stop being a perfect little worker.”->Chapter9_06v3]]

You like the idea of having a family, of sharing a strong, indisputable connection with someone. You have that with the Circle, of course, but this feels deeper. It’s a connection of blood, of skin, of eyes and heart. It grounds you. You hope the guard feels the same. “I kind of like the idea.” “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_06'}

You only recently came across the words *father* and *parent* in your readings—vague terms that never mattered. But the words feel proper now, impactful, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. The fact that he’s a guard is a little distressing, but he doesn't behave like other guard. He’s unique. Like you. The thought that you may have inherited this trait from him is strangely comforting. “I wouldn’t mind it. I’d like to get to know him better.” “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_06'}

You’ve never thought about where you came from or who your parents might be. You never even knew the word *parent* till you read it in a book. The idea of having a father, and a guard at that, is so surreal that it’s difficult to recognize your feelings, much less come to grips with them. “I honestly don’t know.” “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_06'}

All your life the guard have been a symbol of evil, cruelty, and fear. The idea of being associated with one, of sharing the same blood as one, causes bile to rise in your throat. It makes you feel somehow less of a person, a tool, inevitably bound to The City in a way that’s impossible to sever. “I will never acknowledge him as my father.” “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” {embed passage: 'Chapter9_06'}

“Yeah, that’s what I tell myself. Still doesn’t help.” He gives a shrug of his shoulder, a sigh escaping him. “I mean, what are we supposed to do now? Now that we know so much, and yet still so little?” It’s something you haven’t had the courage to ask aloud yourself, even when the question plagues your mind every day. “I don’t know, Heron.” Heron pats your hand affectionately, before pulling from you and walking through the aisles, his gaze roving over the food stores. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, you know.” “About what?” He stops and glances back at you, his eyes lingering on where your scar sits above your wrist. “The day you got that.” You cover the scar with your other hand reflexively. It doesn’t hurt anymore, hasn’t for a long time, really. But the memory is always there, sitting in the back of your mind. Heron’s brows furrow, his mouth a tight line at the remembrance. “I didn’t just lose a friend that day. I lost myself.” You watch him quietly, unsure how to comfort him, or if it’s even comfort he’s looking for. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronLove'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'}

“I guess I just don’t know who I am anymore, or where I fit.” He shakes his head. “And thinking of things like this,” he motions to the room around him, “I just have so many questions, that I never had before, and we don’t seem to be getter any closer to answers.” “You fit with us,” you tell him, a surety to your voice. “You fit with the Circle, with our family. And we won’t stop trying to get answers, okay?” He gives you a grateful smile and you give him an answering one in turn. Heron pats your hand affectionately, before pulling from you and walking through the aisles, his gaze roving over the food stores. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, you know.” “About what?” He stops and glances back at you, his eyes lingering on where your scar sits above your wrist. “The day you got that.” You cover the scar with your other hand reflexively. It doesn’t hurt anymore, hasn’t for a long time, really. But the memory is always there, sitting in the back of your mind. Heron’s brows furrow, his mouth a tight line at the remembrance. “I didn’t just lose a friend that day. I lost myself.” You watch him quietly, unsure how to comfort him, or if it’s even comfort he’s looking for. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronLove'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'}

He chuckles at your bluntness. “That easy, huh?” “Never said it would be easy. But it’s worth doing, don’t you think?” “I wish I knew where to start.” He glances down to where you hold his arm, and he settles his palm over your hand. “I wish there was a way to escape The City and all it’s done to us.” You nod quietly, reflecting his thoughts. The more you learn, and the more you grow attached to your friends, the harder it is to accept the life you’ve been living. Heron pats your hand affectionately, before pulling from you and walking through the aisles, his gaze roving over the food stores. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, you know.” “About what?” He stops and glances back at you, his eyes lingering on where your scar sits above your wrist. “The day you got that.” You cover the scar with your other hand reflexively. It doesn’t hurt anymore, hasn’t for a long time, really. But the memory is always there, sitting in the back of your mind. Heron’s brows furrow, his mouth a tight line at the remembrance. “I didn’t just lose a friend that day. I lost myself.” You watch him quietly, unsure how to comfort him, or if it’s even comfort he’s looking for. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronLove'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter9_HeronFriend'}

“And I wonder about it, you know, I wonder who I would have been if you hadn’t been hurt like that, if I hadn’t been scared, if subservience hadn’t been beaten into us at such a young age.” The words rattle out of him, and he’s breathless at their release, pacing the floor across from you. “And what does it really mean to be yourself? Is it who I used to be? Who I am now? Who I *want* to be? Which is real? I just don’t... I just don’t know.” He stops his pacing and glances back at you, his blue eyes defeated. “Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” “You’re not rambling,” you assure him, taking a step toward him. “You’re finding yourself.” He huffs and shakes his head. “Feels like I’m losing it.” “I know it may feel like that—a little uncertain, maybe a little shameful. And that's okay, because we’ve never had the chance to make ourselves before.” He raises his eyes at that, matching your gaze. “We can be who we want—and yes, that can be terrifying and daunting, but it’s our choice now. We made that opportunity. *We* did that." You raise your hand and place your palm flat against his chest. “I respect the man you’ve chosen to be, Heron. I'm grateful for the way you’re always there for me and our friends—for your playfulness and eagerness and thoughtfulness." You grin at him. "And I can’t wait to see the man you choose to become.” Heron ducks his head a moment, his smile mirroring yours. He lets out a tremulous breath, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “Thanks, {name}.” “You’re welcome. Now…” you clap your hands together, "what are we eating?” Heron barks out a laugh, a relieved and satisfied sound. “You know, I found a cookbook with recipes for vegetables. There’s a few dishes I’d love to try, if given the chance—stuffed peppers, roasted squash, fig tarts.” “Um, okay, that all sounds amazing.” He chuckles and runs a hand along a nearby shelf laden with food. “Maybe one day,” he says wistfully. He breathes a sigh, then straightens his shoulders and nods toward the door. “Come on, we’d better get going.” You follow your friend out of the secret pantry, wondering if he’ll ever have the opportunity to cook what he wants—for Ferret to sing like no one was listening, for Lion to smile at something he crafted, for Robin to be themself without limitations. For you all to create whatever you wanted, without fear or doubt or censure. [[Maybe one day.->Chapter9_07]]

“And I wonder about it, you know, I wonder who I would have been if you hadn’t been hurt like that, if I hadn’t been scared, if subservience hadn’t been beaten into us at such a young age.” The words rattle out of him, and he’s breathless at their release, pacing the floor across from you. “And what does it really mean to be yourself? Is it who I used to be? Who I am now? Who I *want* to be? Which is real? I just don’t... I just don’t know, and I mean, could you… would you be able to love me, still?” He stops, his blue eyes wide as he halts abruptly in his pacing, glancing back at you. You suck a breath in at the question. You haven’t discussed the word since the night of your walk. You never confirmed it aloud, not fully, but you know it’s true. You know it’s love. It must be. Because after everything, you couldn’t imagine *not* being in love with Heron. He pulls his lip between his teeth, making his way back to you nervously. “I don’t mean... well, I’m not trying to assume anything, I just...” He sighs, closing his eyes at his own stumbling. And then he seems to find the words, takes a steadying breath, blinks his eyes open to meet yours. “I know that I love you, {name}. I love you now, just as I did then, only more. I love you now just as I know I always will. But I... I don’t know if *you* do. Because I don’t even know who I am anymore.” His confession has you rooted to the floor, lungs clenching inside your chest, a tremble lighting your skin. Your mouth tips open to form words but nothing comes. Heron’s face falls almost imperceptibly. “Okay, I guess I...” You don’t let him finish because it rushes from you instantly, this great emotion for him, this need to always be close to him. You fling your arms around him, crushing him to your chest, a hand slipping up to brace along the back of his neck, your exasperated sigh breaking across the skin of his cheek. [if hasSwear] “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Heron, you’re still as troublesome as you were back then.” [else] “I swear, Heron, you’re still as troublesome as you were back then.” [continue] The laugh that leaves him is hesitant but honest, his hands settling around your back with lessening trepidation. “So, uh, so you...?” You lean back to look at him, your arms still around each other. “Of course, I love you.” His eyes wet instantly, his smile shaky but wide, relief flooding him. You move your hands to cup his face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones. “I love the boy you were—your playfulness, and cleverness, and sincerity. And I love the man you are—how you’re always there for me, and for our friends, how you listen and how you make me laugh and how you give me hope. And I...” You swallow tightly, the breath raking from you in a delirious, joyful laugh, cheeks aching from the force of your smile. “I can’t wait to find out what I’m going to love about the man you will become.” [align left] > [[❤️ Words aren't enough to express how you feel. (sex, explicit)->Chapter9_HeronLove1v1]] > [[❤️ Words aren't enough to express how you feel. (sex, fade to black)->Chapter9_HeronLove1v2]] > [[❤️ You want to explore this love further, but now is not the time.->Chapter9_HeronLove1v3]] > [[You’re each sure of each other’s feelings now, and that’s all you need.->Chapter9_HeronLove1v4]]

sound.ambient.love.url: 'Audio/love.mp3' sound.ambient.love.description: 'hopeful joyous music that builds' -- {ambient sound: 'love'} Heron ducks his head a moment, his own chuckle mirroring yours—relieved and breathless and so unbearably, inarticulately *happy*. He looks back up at you, his smile blinding, before he’s surging forward and crushing his mouth to yours, the force of the kiss stumbling you back into the wall, his hand behind your head softening the collision. Then it’s all you feel, all your body knows. He slants his mouth over yours, his tongue delving past your lips on instinct and you open to him on a sigh, gripping him to you, his chest pressed tightly to yours. His hands slide up your sides, trying to drag you closer, his fingers tugging at the material of your shirt. You arch your back beneath the heat of him, your hands greedy in their own exploration, dizzy off the taste of his tongue against yours and his moan in your mouth. You tug impatiently at his shirt, dragging it up his back, before he pulls away just enough to tear it over his head and toss it away. An unconscious whimper leaves you at the loss of him and he chuckles in response, reaching for your own shirt and discarding it the same way. You snake a hand around the back of his neck and drag his mouth back to yours, gasping at the new sensation of skin on skin, his chest braced to yours, the heat of him almost overwhelming. Heron shudders against you, one of his hands going out to brace along the wall at your back, his other hand gripping tight along your waist, his hips pinned to yours. “{name},” he pants against your lips. Your eyes flutter shut at the breathy sound of his voice, your lips going to his jaw, peppering kisses as your hands thread into his hair. “Hmm?” “I want... I want to...” His hand along your waist ventures higher, his thumb brushing along your ribcage. You still at the sensation, chest rising and falling so quickly it’s making you lightheaded. Or maybe it’s just the feel of him there, in your arms, his breath fanning your lips, his heartbeat thundering against yours. You pull back slowly to meet his eyes, your head resting back along the wall, but you find him staring down at your chest. Maybe you should feel embarrassed to be so bare before him, so vulnerable. But it’s exhilarating instead. Even in the chamber you were never this bare before another person, and the distinction is jarring. You’ve read about sex in some of the books from the circle, and you’re sure Heron must have as well, but when you think of your time in the chamber, and this moment with the man you love, it feels like worlds apart. This is how it always should have been. “{name},” Heron says, the breath raking from him, your name like a warning on his lips. His eyes shift up to yours. “I want…” "So do I,” you tell him, licking your lips. His gaze flicks to your mouth, a heavy breath leaving him. [if gender === 'woman'] You lean in to kiss him once more and he melts against you, his hand along your ribs shifting to cover your breast, squeezing tentatively. He groans into your mouth, his hips rolling into yours, his desire apparent. Your fingers tighten in his hair and you shift against him, his knee slotting between your legs. Your breath hitches when he presses into you, your hips jerking to rub harder along his thigh. You moan at the friction. Heron dips his head to your throat, planting a kiss along the sensitive skin just below your ear, palming your breast with more confidence, his thumb flicking over your nipple. You can feel the length of him pressing into your thigh. He releases your breast to slink his hand down to the edge of your pants, tugging at them slightly. “Should we...?” “Yeah,” you answer immediately, already going for the drawstring on his own trousers. You know the mechanics of it, roughly. But it’s still so new and delicious and staggering. Excitement builds in your chest, softened by a tenderness when you look at him, when you’re both tugging your pants down and kicking them away, smiling at each other, going in for another kiss, and another, your hand cradling his jaw. “Can I...” Heron begins, his voice rough, his hands finding purchase on your hips, a tremble lighting his skin. “Can I... touch you? There?” You can’t help the laugh that leaves you when you grab for his wrist and he gulps, eyes wide as they watch you drag his hand between your legs. “Please, do,” you get out breathlessly, your other hand settling along his shoulder. He strokes at your wetness hesitantly, fingers shaking, glancing back and forth between your face and his ministrations, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s fumbling, and sweet, and utterly delicious when he hits the right spot. “Oh, like that,” you pant out, shifting your hips just slightly, reveling in the way he presses in again, more sure this time, two of his fingers dipping into your heat, his palm pressing up against your sensitive nub. He’s watching you intently, and suddenly, you feel the need to see him just as unraveled. You reach down to grasp the length of him, a smirk tugging at your lips when he jerks beneath your touch, groaning and pressing closer, his head dropping to your shoulder. Your leg lifts instinctually to slide up his hip, spreading you wider, and Heron wraps a hand around your thigh, holding you there, his fingers slipping out of you to brace along the wall. Then he’s pressed right up against you, only your hand keeping him from pushing further and he braces his mouth to your ear, his breath ragged, sounding almost pained. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse, his lips brushing your ear, and you nod instantly, your hand retreating from between his legs to thread through his hair instead. “Yes,” you pant out, hips pushing out to meet him just as he sinks into you. He stills almost instantly, a groan leaving him, reverberating through to your own chest where your heart hammers wildly, a pressure between your legs, that heat coiling tighter and you gasp into his neck, eyes squeezing shut. But then he’s kissing you, frantic and needy and reckless, moving against you with full, deep strokes. Part of you thinks maybe you should be doing this lying down, or at least anywhere other than the secret pantry behind the kitchens, and you have to laugh at the thought. Because there’s nothing *wrong* about the way it feels in this moment, with your back scraping along the wall, and Heron’s teeth in your bottom lip, and your hands dug into his hair, and his bruising grip along your thigh and the steady, even rhythm of your thrusts together. Heron breaks from you, panting, his hips never slowing. “I can’t... I don’t think I can...” “I know,” you breathe against his mouth, feeling the same tension building inside you. But a flicker of rationality still makes itself known. “Just... not inside me, okay?” Heron nods, knowing instantly what you mean, before his eyes flutter shut, his grunt catching in his throat, his mouth seeking yours again. The kiss is messy and aimless and blunted by each of your laughs, your bodies melded together, hands grasping desperately for each other, and even while the ache builds and builds inside you, even as he slinks a hand down between your bodies to aid your pleasure, moving purely on instinct—the motions are inaccurate, but endearing. Heron watches your face as he moves inside you, pride filling him with every hitch of your breath, every moan that slips from your parted lips, his fingers rubbing intently where your bodies are joined. The ardency of his affection, his attention, overwhelms you. The thrill of discovering each other’s bodies together, cushioned by the safety and steadiness you feel in his arms, pushes you over the edge, and you embrace it freely, crying out against his mouth, fingers digging harshly into his shoulders. Heron’s hips stutter against yours, a hand pressing against your waist as he pulls out just before his own release hits him, his groan bitten off into a breathless, disbelieving hum, his eyes slowly meeting yours in the aftermath. [if gender === 'man'] You lean in to kiss him once more, and he melts against you, his hand along your ribs gliding low down your back now. He groans into your mouth, his hips rolling into yours, his desire apparent. Your fingers tighten in his hair and you shift against him, meeting his desire with your own, and your breath hitches when he presses into you, your hips jerking at the intimate touch. You moan at the friction. Heron dips his head to your throat, planting a kiss along the sensitive skin just below your ear. His hand glides over your bottom now with more confidence, cupping and squeezing it. You can feel the length of him pressing into your thigh. He releases your bottom to trail his hand up to the edge of your pants, tugging at them slightly. “Should we...?” “Yeah,” you answer immediately, already going for the drawstring on his own trousers. You know the mechanics of it, roughly. You learned that in the chamber. But this is nothing like the chamber. Back then it was so clinical, and it hadn’t been with another man. This feels so much more right, so much more intense. It’s new and delicious and staggering. Excitement builds in your chest, softened by a tenderness when you look at him, when you’re both tugging your pants down and kicking them away, smiling at each other, going in for another kiss, and another, your hand cradling his jaw. “Can I...” Heron begins, his voice rough, his hands finding purchase on your hips, a tremble lighting his skin. “Can I... touch you? There?” You can’t help the laugh that leaves you when you grab for his wrist and he gulps, eyes wide as they watch you drag his hand between your legs. “Please, do,” you get out breathlessly, your other hand settling along his shoulder. He strokes you hesitantly, fingers shaking, glancing back and forth between your face and his ministrations, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s fumbling, and sweet, and utterly delicious when he hits the right rhythm. “Oh, like that,” you pant out, shifting your hips just slightly, reveling in the way he strokes more surely this time, before pausing to lick his hand and then return, gliding more easily over you now. He’s watching you intently, and suddenly, you feel the need to see him just as unraveled. You wet your hand as well and reach down to grasp the length of him, a smirk tugging at your lips when he jerks beneath your touch, groaning and pressing closer, his head dropping to your shoulder. Your legs shift slightly to keep you as close together as possible as you pump each other. Heron snakes a hand around to your bottom, clutching tightly, holding you there pressed intimately to him. His breath is hot against your shoulder, and then he’s pressed right up against you, only your hand keeping him from pushing further. He braces his mouth to your ear, his breath ragged, sounding almost pained. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse, his lips brushing your ear, and you nod instantly, your free hand threading through his hair. “Yes,” you pant out, hips pushing out to meet him stroke for stroke. A groan leaves him as your hands brush, slowly retreating to feel more skin on skin, and your heart hammers wildly, a pressure building in your gut, that heat coiling tighter and you gasp into his neck, eyes squeezing shut. But then he’s kissing you, frantic and needy and reckless, moving against you with full, unhindered strokes. Part of you thinks maybe you should be doing this lying down, or at least anywhere other than the secret pantry behind the kitchens, and you have to laugh at the thought. Because there’s nothing *wrong* about the way it feels in this moment, with your back scraping along the wall, and Heron’s teeth in your bottom lip, and your hand dug into his hair, and your unrelenting grips on each other and the steady, even rhythm of your thrusts together. Heron breaks from you, panting, his hips never slowing. “I can’t... I don’t think I can...” “Me either,” you breathe against his mouth, feeling the same tension building inside you. Heron nods, his eyes fluttering shut, his grunt catching in his throat, his mouth seeking yours again. The kiss is messy and aimless and blunted by each of your laughs, your bodies melded together, hands grasping desperately for each other, and even while the ache builds and builds inside you, even as you rock together seamlessly—the motions are inaccurate, but endearing. Heron watches your face as he moves against you, pride filling him with every hitch of your breath, every moan that slips from your parted lips, both of your hands trapped where your bodies are joined. The ardency of his affection, his attention, overwhelms you. The thrill of discovering each other’s bodies together, cushioned by the safety and steadiness you feel in his arms, pushes you over the edge, and you embrace it freely, crying out against his mouth, fingers digging harshly into his shoulders. Heron’s hips stutter against yours, his hand clenching tightly along your bottom when his own release hits him, his groan bitten off into a breathless, disbelieving hum, his eyes slowly meeting yours in the aftermath. [if gender === 'worker'] You lean in to kiss him once more, and he melts against you, his hand along your ribs gliding low down your back now. He groans into your mouth, his hips rolling into yours, his desire apparent. Your fingers tighten in his hair and you shift against him, meeting his desire with your own, and your breath hitches when he presses into you, your hips jerking at the intimate touch. You moan at the friction. Heron dips his head to your throat, planting a kiss along the sensitive skin just below your ear. His hand glides over your bottom now with more confidence, cupping and squeezing it. You can feel the length of him pressing into your thigh. He releases your bottom to trail his hand up to the edge of your pants, tugging at them slightly. “Should we...?” “Yeah,” you answer immediately, already going for the drawstring on his own trousers. You know the mechanics of it, roughly. But it’s still so new and delicious and staggering. Excitement builds in your chest, softened by a tenderness when you look at him, when you’re both tugging your pants down and kicking them away, smiling at each other, going in for another kiss, and another, your hand cradling his jaw. “Can I...” Heron begins, his voice rough, his hands finding purchase on your hips, a tremble lighting his skin. “Can I... touch you? There?” You can’t help the laugh that leaves you when you grab for his wrist and he gulps, eyes wide as they watch you drag his hand between your legs. “Please, do,” you get out breathlessly, your other hand settling along his shoulder. He strokes you hesitantly, fingers shaking, glancing back and forth between your face and his ministrations, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s fumbling, and sweet, and utterly delicious when he hits the right rhythm. “Oh, like that,” you pant out, shifting your hips just slightly, reveling in the way he strokes more surely this time. He’s watching you intently, and suddenly, you feel the need to see him just as unraveled. You reach down to grasp the length of him, a smirk tugging at your lips when he jerks beneath your touch, groaning and pressing closer, his head dropping to your shoulder. Heron snakes a hand around to your bottom, clutching tightly, holding you there pressed intimately to him. His breath is hot against your shoulder, and then he’s pressed right up against you, only your hand keeping him from pushing further. He braces his mouth to your ear, his breath ragged, sounding almost pained. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse, his lips brushing your ear, and you nod instantly, your free hand threading through his hair. “Yes,” you pant out, hips pushing out to meet him stroke for stroke. A groan leaves him as your hands brush, slowly retreating to feel more skin on skin, and your heart hammers wildly, a pressure building in your gut, that heat coiling tighter and you gasp into his neck, eyes squeezing shut. But then he’s kissing you, frantic and needy and reckless, moving against you with full, unhindered strokes. Part of you thinks maybe you should be doing this lying down, or at least anywhere other than the secret pantry behind the kitchens, and you have to laugh at the thought. Because there’s nothing *wrong* about the way it feels in this moment, with your back scraping along the wall, and Heron’s teeth in your bottom lip, and your hand dug into his hair, and his bruising grip along your thigh and the steady, even rhythm of your bodies moving as one. Heron breaks from you, panting, his hips never slowing. “I can’t... I don’t think I can...” “Me either,” you breathe against his mouth, feeling the same tension building inside you. Heron nods, his eyes fluttering shut, his grunt catching in his throat, his mouth seeking yours again. The kiss is messy and aimless and blunted by each of your laughs, your bodies melded together, hands grasping desperately for each other, and even while the ache builds and builds inside you, even as you rock together seamlessly—the motions are inaccurate, but endearing. Heron watches your face as he moves against you, pride filling him with every hitch of your breath, every moan that slips from your parted lips, both of your hands trapped where your bodies are joined. The ardency of his affection, his attention, overwhelms you. The thrill of discovering each other’s bodies together, cushioned by the safety and steadiness you feel in his arms, pushes you over the edge, and you embrace it freely, crying out against his mouth, fingers digging harshly into his shoulders. Heron’s hips stutter against yours, his hand clenching tightly along your bottom when his own release hits him, his groan bitten off into a breathless, disbelieving hum, his eyes slowly meeting yours in the aftermath. [continue] You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck, a pleasant exhaustion filling you, your bodies pressed fervently together as you fall back against the wall. You can feel his smile against your cheek, the breath winded from him. “Are you alright?” he asks tremulously. You can do nothing but nod into his neck. Your knees are weak, and you want only to slide down the wall and into each other’s arms, breathless and laughing, but his weight holds you in place, keeps you grounded. When he presses a hand to your cheek and turns your face to his, you’re still smiling. “It’s only ever been you, {name},” he mumbles earnestly, a tender kiss pressed to your swollen lips. When he ends the kiss, his hand slips down to cup your chin. “Then, now, and always,” he tells you, voice rough, but firm. “Good,” you tell him, a finger tapping along his shoulder. “It better be.” You smile devilishly at him. Heron laughs, a short, bright sound. He tightens his arms around your waist. You hold each other, a weightless, contented breath leaving you. It feels like coming home. It feels like *finding* home. Eventually Heron steps back, releasing you, and you somehow find the strength to stand on your own. He bends to retrieve your discarded clothes and laughs sheepishly. “We, uh, kinda made a mess of things,” he says. You glance around to see your shirt lying atop a sack of potatoes, a small bushel of figs kicked over by your feet. “Lion would say this was unsanitary,” you chuckle. “Are we really talking about Lion right now?” Heron mutters as he hands you your pants, his nose scrunched in an adorable pout. You hide a smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. “We are not.” He grins at you, wide and mirthful, and the two of you proceed to get dressed, content in the presence of each other, all other concerns of The City forgotten in the haze of this one joyous night. [[Next->Chapter9_07]]

Heron ducks his head a moment, his own chuckle mirroring yours—relieved and breathless and so unbearably, inarticulately *happy*. He looks back up at you, his smile blinding, before he’s surging forward and crushing his mouth to yours, the force of the kiss stumbling you back into the wall, his hand behind your head softening the collision. He slants his mouth over yours, his tongue delving past your lips on instinct and you open to him on a sigh, gripping him to you, his chest pressed tightly to yours. His hands slide up your sides, trying to drag you closer, his fingers tugging at the material of your shirt. You arch your back beneath the heat of him, your hands greedy in their own exploration, dizzy off the taste of his tongue against yours and his moan in your mouth. It’s too intoxicating. You can’t let yourself be swept away. “Heron,” you say at his lips, pulling from him. You brace your hands on his shoulders. “Maybe we should... slow down a bit.” You’re still breathless from the kiss, and wanting more, but perhaps the secret pantry isn’t the place for it. Heron licks his lips, steadying himself. “Of course.” He nods, releasing a chuckle as he puts a hand to his head, a wondrous smile gracing his features. “I just can’t believe it.” You cock your head at him. “Believe what?” He looks warmly at you, his hand falling from his temple to settle back along your hip. “That we’ve found each other again. That we’ve, well...” “Found love?” He smiles sheepishly at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning his weight back against you, the wall at your back. “Yeah.” You drop your forehead against his and he presses a hand to your cheek. “It’s only ever been you, {name},” he mumbles earnestly, a tender kiss pressed to your lips. When he ends the kiss, his hand slips down to cup your chin. “Then, now, and always,” he tells you, voice rough, but firm. “Good,” you tell him, a finger tapping along his shoulder. “It better be.” You smile devilishly at him. Heron laughs, a short, bright sound. He tightens his arms around your waist. You hold each other, a weightless, contented breath leaving you. It feels like coming home. It feels like *finding* home. Heron grins at you, wide and mirthful, and the two of you gaze contentedly at each other, all other concerns of The City forgotten in the haze of this one joyous night. [[Next.->Chapter9_07]]

Heron ducks his head a moment, his own chuckle mirroring yours—relieved and breathless and so unbearably, inarticulately *happy*. You’ve never felt this close to someone, and you doubt you ever will again. It’s exhilarating, how simply being near him makes you come alive. “This is everything I want,” you tell him. “*You* are everything I want.” He presses a hand to your cheek. “It’s only ever been you, {name},” he mumbles earnestly. “Then, now, and always,” he tells you, voice rough, but firm. “Good,” you tell him, a finger tapping along his shoulder. “It better be.” You smile devilishly at him. Heron laughs, a short, bright sound. He tightens his arms around your waist. You hold each other, a weightless, contented breath leaving you. It feels like coming home. It feels like *finding* home. Heron grins at you, wide and mirthful, and the two of you gaze contentedly at each other, all other concerns of The City forgotten in the haze of this one joyous night. [[Next.->Chapter9_07]]

sound.ambient.danger.url: 'Audio/danger.mp3' sound.ambient.danger.description: 'dramatic troubled music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'danger'} It’s late in the afternoon the next day, and you’ve finished with your third patient. You use the break to take stock of your medicines. One of your oils is running low, and you remember belatedly that you used that one for Bison’s ink. You smile to yourself as you place the empty vial in your bag, then set out for the feeding station. As you come abreast of the fields you hear loud voices. More than one voice raised in anger is never good. You stop and look around for the cause. You see some kind of scuffle happening on the outskirts of the field by the fruit trees. Two guard are shouting at a third figure. One of the guard looks familiar—a muscular brute of a man with a shaved head and thick dark eyebrows, sternly knitted together. The figure on the ground is a gatherer—an older woman, judging by the streaks of grey in her dark hair. The rest of the gatherers avert their gaze and give the trio a wide berth. You approach, your feet moving instinctually. As you get closer you can make out their words. “You dare eat food? You gather, no eat! You punish!” The voice of the lead guard is coarse, gritty, and you recall with dread where you saw him before—it's the same guard that oversaw the lesson nearly a year ago, the one responsible for punishing Lion's friend. “I sorry,” the woman pleads. She’s on her hands and knees in the soil, her hands extended forward toward the guard who spoke. “I tired, hungry. I sorry!” You remember the hidden pantry, the shelves bending beneath the weight of the food, and your blood boils. You see a club raised in the air. The arm comes down, followed by a heart-wrenching, broken cry. Your vision goes red. Every wound you ever treated, every death you couldn’t prevent, replays in your mind. The guard’s sharp commands and the woman’s sobs echo in your ears, a great cacophony that leaves you nauseous. You’re angry, disgusted, tired, so very tired, of the cruelty. And you’re tired of healing, instead of *protecting.* [align left] > [[“Stop!” you demand, your voice laced with anger.->Chapter9_07v1]] > [[“Stop!” you cry, your voice as sorrowful as the woman’s.->Chapter9_07v2]] > [[“Stop!” you plead, your voice trembling.->Chapter9_07v3]]

You rush forward. There’s a loud slap and a sharp, intense pain in your head. You collapse to the ground as everything goes white. Your ears ring and your head throbs. You taste blood on your lips. “You dare!?” Your vision slowly begins to clear and you force yourself to your feet. Your head aches unbearably and your skin stings where the guard backhanded you. You gesture to the bag that has fallen open at your feet, the vial visible within. “Please, I heal.” “This lesson. You stay there.” The guard lifts his club and points the tip into your face. You wince and glance down at the woman. You know what will happen if you continue, you know it. You speak anyway. “Please.” The guard’s eyes widen in fury and he lifts the club over your head. Suddenly you feel hands on your shoulders and you’re wrenched backwards, out of the weapon’s path. Your arm is twisted painfully behind your back and you bite your lip to keep from crying out. “G-160, I punish this one. You keep on lesson.” You don’t dare look behind you, but you know the voice. It’s a voice that has confused your days and haunted your nights. It’s the voice of your… [align left] > [[… guard. You refuse to acknowledge the truth.->Chapter9_08v1]] > [[… father. You accept the truth.->Chapter9_08v2]]

You stagger forward. Your tears momentarily blind you and you don’t see the club thrusting toward you. It catches you in the stomach and you double over, gasping for breath. “You dare!?” “I heal,” you stammer after recovering your breath. You gesture to the bag that has fallen open at your feet, the vial visible within. “Please, I heal.” “This lesson. You stay there.” The guard lifts his club and points the tip into your face. You wince and glance down at the woman. You know what will happen if you continue, you know it. You speak anyway. “Please.” The guard’s eyes widen in fury and he lifts the club over your head. Suddenly you feel hands on your shoulders and you’re wrenched backwards, out of the weapon’s path. Your arm is twisted painfully behind your back and you bite your lip to keep from crying out. “G-160, I punish this one. You keep on lesson.” You don’t dare look behind you, but you know the voice. It’s a voice that has confused your days and haunted your nights. It’s the voice of your… [align left] > [[… guard. You refuse to acknowledge the truth.->Chapter9_08v1]] > [[… father. You accept the truth.->Chapter9_08v2]]

You take a tentative step forward and the guard whirls on you, his gaze pinning you in place. Your bag drops from your limp fingers. “You dare!?” “I heal,” you stammer. You gesture to the bag that has fallen open at your feet, the vial visible within. “Please, I heal.” “This lesson. You stay there.” The guard lifts his club and points the tip into your face. You wince and glance down at the woman. You know what will happen if you continue, you know it. You speak anyway. “Please.” The guard’s eyes widen in fury and he lifts the club over your head. Suddenly you feel hands on your shoulders and you’re wrenched backwards, out of the weapon’s path. Your arm is twisted painfully behind your back and you bite your lip to keep from crying out. “G-160, I punish this one. You keep on lesson.” You don’t dare look behind you, but you know the voice. It’s a voice that has confused your days and haunted your nights. It’s the voice of your… [align left] > [[… guard. You refuse to acknowledge the truth.->Chapter9_08v1]] > [[… father. You accept the truth.->Chapter9_08v2]]

hasFather: false -- He’s a guard. Only a guard. Different than the others, perhaps. But nothing to you. {embed passage: 'Chapter9_09'}

hasFather: true -- There’s no point in denying the truth. You know it, he knows it. {embed passage: 'Chapter9_09'}

The brutish guard nods and lowers his club. “Good, G-72. Take {gender_3rdPronoun}.” You’re numb. You don’t even feel the pain of the guard’s grip anymore. You’re forced away, back toward the clinic, the woman’s cries the only sound you hear. Back in your room the guard throws you down on the cot and slams your door shut. “That was stupid, so very stupid.” He paces in front of you. You wonder which of you two he’s speaking of. “You can’t provoke the guard like that, do you understand?” He stops and glares at you. His eyes, too familiar, bore into you. You have to look away. “Why didn’t you stop them?” you ask. “Because then we would both be beaten. The guard control everything. It’s madness to disobey them.” He speaks as if he isn’t one of them. “Besides, that worker stole food. It was only right that they be punished.” “That’s not-” You shake your head. “Then why stop them from punishing me?” The guard stops his pacing and looks at you, his gaze conflicted. [if hasFather] “Is it because I’m your {gender_5thPronoun}?” [else] “Is it because you think I’m your {gender_5thPronoun}?” [continue] His eyes widen and he licks his lips nervously. “I want to help you. You take too many risks, you always have. You and your friends are not safe-” You whip your head around. “Are you threatening my friends?” You hadn’t realized he even *knew* about your friends. What else does he know? “I-no. No, I don’t mean them any harm.” He wrings his hands nervously. “I only want to help you.” You sigh and stand up. Your head hurts too much for this conversation. You uncork one of the cooling ointments, spread it onto a clean cloth, and press it to your forehead. You feel something soft against your hand and you turn to see the guard handing you your bag. You don’t even remember him picking it up. Maybe it’s the ointment, maybe it’s the innocuous behavior of the guard, but you can feel the tension easing from you. [if hasFather] “How long have you known…?” You gesture between the two of you. [else] “How long have you suspected…?” You gesture between the two of you. [continue] He points to your left hand which is holding the compress to your head. “Since the day you got that scar. I was called in afterwards to control the situation. I saw you and I… I just knew.” You lower your hand and study your scar. You wrack your brain, trying to pick out his face in the fog of memories. But back then you were too scared, too hurt, too worried about Heron to pay attention to anyone else. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop it," he says. [align left] > [[“You don’t owe me an apology.”->Chapter9_09v1]] > [[“You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything.”->Chapter9_09v2]]

It’s strange hearing a guard apologizing to you. He seems sincere, if misguided. You catch his eye, your expression softening. “It wasn’t your fault.” He nods, his shoulders relaxing. {embed passage: 'Chapter9_10'}

It’s uncomfortable hearing a guard apologizing to you. You don’t want him thinking you’re beholden to him. You catch his eye, your expression hardening. “Don’t expect me to be grateful.” He shakes his head and wrings his hands. {embed passage: 'Chapter9_10'}

“Did you have a hand in making me a healer?” you ask. “Were you trying to help me?” "Yes, that was me." He relaxes a little, the creases at the corners of his eyes softening, a hint of a smile peeking beneath the unruly beard. “I wanted you to have a safe job, but I also saw that you seem to care for other workers. You're attentive. Good quality for a healer." You drop the cloth along the edge of the water basin and turn fully toward the guard—a question on your lips that’s been plaguing you since the start of this conversation. “How did you learn to speak?” “The last councilor taught me.” You blink. “What do you mean the last?” “I mean the last surviving one,” he says. By his tone it’s clear he expects you to know what he’s talking about. “He had a journal. He used it to teach me to read and speak before he died.” “What about the other councilors?” “There are no others. The last councilor died 30 years ago.” The room goes eerily silent. The sounds from the nearby construction site fade away, the breeze coming in from the window falters. The beating of your heart nearly stops. The guard watches you for a moment, then purses his lips. “I thought you knew. You’ve learned so much already, I just assumed…” “How can there be no council?” you ask, your voice trembling. “Who governs The City? Who determines what job a worker gets?” “The guard,” he answers, his voice weary. “The guard are in charge of everything. Have been for awhile, even when the councilors were still alive. I tried making you a guard, to keep you with me, but the others wouldn’t allow it. They already had acquaintances in mind, and they don’t allow many in their ranks.” You can’t help but shudder at the thought of being a guard. “I have no pull there,” he continues, “no way to protect you. That’s why you need to be careful.” He finishes on a sigh. You don’t even hear his last words. Every truth you held about this city, everything you knew with clarity, is wrong. It’s too much, too overwhelming You feel dizzy and your world spins. Then you think about the Circle and your world rights itself once more. It’s the truest thing you know. The only *important* thing. The guard looks over your shoulder at the window. “It’s getting close to meal time. I should get going before another guard comes for your water.” He turns to leave. [if hasFather] “Wait, err, father.” He spins around and stares at you, his expression stunned, yet pleased. [else] “Wait, G-72, was it?” He turns to regard you. He looks pleased that you remembered his work number. [continue] “Thank you for today, for coming to my rescue.” The elder guard nods silently, his {eye_color} eyes shining brightly, then he exits the room, leaving you with more questions than answers. Always so many questions. [[Begin Chapter 10->Journal232]]

sound.ambient.death.url: 'Audio/death.mp3' sound.ambient.death.description: 'ominous conflict music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'death'} *Journal Entry 232* *I think we’ve made a terrible mistake.* [[Begin Chapter 10->Chapter10_00]]

~~Chapter 10~~ It’s mid-morning and you’re cleaning up after a patient when a strange sound reaches your ears. Voices. *Many* voices. You’re not even sure they’re uttering real words, but the harsh sounds are angry. And getting louder. The commotion seems to be coming from just outside your window. You stand and begin walking toward it when the door slams shut behind you. You yelp in surprise and spin around. You have only a moment in which to glimpse Bison leaning against the door before a hysterical Fawn throws herself into your arms. “{name}! I-I’m so sorry,” she cries, clutching you desperately. She chokes over the words, gasping for breath. “I couldn’t, we didn’t think…” “Fawn, what is it? What’s happened?” You clasp your friend by the shoulders and gently push her away so you can see into her face. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and her entire body is trembling. The calmness in your voice has a soothing effect on the young weaver, and she begins breathing easier. Her fingers relax around your arm, and when she finally pulls away, the imprints of her nails are imbedded in your skin. “I was working when a guard approached me,” Fawn stammers. You have to lean in to make out her words. “He wanted… to take me to the chamber.” Your blood runs cold. “He dragged me out of the workshop,” she continues. “I was pleading with him not to take me. I managed to pull free but he hit me.” Your eyes dart to the imprint of a hand on her cheek. “Bison saw. He-he tried to protect me. He attacked the guard and then-” The rest of Fawn’s words are lost in her sobs, but you don’t need to hear anymore. You pull your friend into your arms, eyeing Bison over the girl’s shoulder. He remains by the door, staring at his feet in penitent silence. You shift your gaze to the wooden door and your eyes narrow. “Bison, bar the door with those shelves.” You point to the case closest to the door, just to the right of the entrance. Fawn lifts her head as Bison obeys. “{name}?” she asks softly, pulling away. “What are you doing?” “I’m helping you,” you reply. “We won’t be disturbed if I keep my door closed, but it doesn’t hurt to have the extra protection. The two of you will remain here for the rest of the day. We’ll go to the circle tonight; you’ll be safe there.” “We can’t stay beneath the circle for the rest of our lives.” “You don’t have a choice.” You level your gaze on the pair. “We’ll figure out what to do once you’re safely hidden. You can’t go back to your lives after this. They’ll remember your work numbers, as well as your faces.” “But you….” Fawn gazes at the door a moment, then turns back to you. Her eyes are still red and swollen, but there is a faint glimmer in them now, a hesitant hope. “I didn't mean to bring you into this,” she croaks. “I just panicked.” “I know, but that’s what I’m here for. That’s what the Circle is here for. You did the right thing by coming here.” A loud pounding on the door causes all three of you to jump. Bison backs away quickly and Fawn clamps a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. [[“Open up! Guard here!”->Chapter10_01]]

You feel Fawn’s hand on your arm once more, and the sensation brings a wave of anger rising within you. *Not now*. You look around frantically but there is nowhere to hide, your companions could easily be seen from any corner of the room. The pounding resumes, this time louder. The shelving unit shudders and moves forward half an inch. You can see sand-covered fingers gripping the edges of the door. “Open the door,” Fawn implores you, turning her large eyes on you. “If you don’t, they’ll know you’re helping us. I can’t-I don't want you to pay for this, {name}.” “I told you, we’re in this together.” You stride to the window and look down, then curse softly. There is no escape this way—the ground is too far away, the fall would certainly kill you. A rough grating sound brings your attention back to the door. The case of shelves is nudged further into the room, the sliver of space between the door and frame widening. “This was a mistake,” Fawn whimpers. “We should never have come here.” The fear in the room is palpable, paralyzing. Fawn’s voice trembles with it, your heart beats with it. It’s magnified by the scraping of the door and the hoarse shouts of the guard. “{name}, open the door,” Fawn pleads. [if persona === 'Brawler'] You ignore Fawn and spin about the room, searching for something you can use as a weapon. It’s futile and you know it. All three of you will certainly be killed. But you can not, *will not* abandon your friends. And you’ll be damned if you let the guard take you without a fight. [if persona === 'Pathfinder'] You ignore Fawn and spin about the room, searching for something you can use as a weapon. It’s futile and you know it. All three of you will certainly be killed. But you can not, *will not* abandon your friends. And you’ll be damned if you let the guard take you without a fight. [if persona === 'Leader'] You meet her gaze, blinking back tears. “I can’t do that, Fawn, I won’t,” you whisper. “It’s not your fault, please don’t think that. But I can’t let them have you.” You’re terrified, your thoughts a whirlwind of horror and despair. But the one emotion you feel most keenly, the one that grounds you in the storm, is devotion. [if persona === 'Supporter'] You meet her gaze, blinking back tears. “I can’t do that, Fawn, I won’t,” you whisper. “It’s not your fault, please don’t think that. But I can’t let them have you.” You’re terrified, your thoughts a whirlwind of horror and despair. But the one emotion you feel most keenly, the one that grounds you in the storm, is devotion. [if persona === 'Observer'] You meet her gaze, blinking back tears. “I can’t do that, Fawn, I won’t,” you whisper. “It’s not your fault, please don’t think that. But I can’t let them have you.” You’re terrified, your thoughts a whirlwind of horror and despair. But the one emotion you feel most keenly, the one that grounds you in the storm, is devotion. [if persona === 'Follower'] You meet her gaze, blinking back tears. “I can’t do that, Fawn, I won’t,” you whisper. “It’s not your fault, please don’t think that. But I can’t let them have you.” You’re terrified, your thoughts a whirlwind of horror and despair. But the one emotion you feel most keenly, the one that grounds you in the storm, is devotion. [continue] Fawn reaches out and grabs you by the arm, her grip surprisingly strong despite her petite frame. “{name}, we can’t let you do this.” A second, larger hand encircles your arm and you turn to find Bison’s face above yours. He silently meets your gaze for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. Moving so swiftly that you can’t track his actions, Bison snakes his arm forward and grabs one of the glass vials. He slams it against the wall, and the sound of the glass breaking mingles with the thunderous clamor of the shelf case as it topples over. Bison pulls you against him and holds a broken shard of glass against your throat just as the guard push into the room. The guard - a blonde-haired weasel of a man - stops just inside the room and takes in the scene. “You think we care?” he asks contemptuously, hefting the club in his hands. “Kill {gender_3rdPronoun}. You die, too.” Bison draws his arm back and throws the shard at the guard, then shoves you toward the door. You stumble and fall to your knees upon a broken piece of glass, cutting your left shin. You look up and meet Bison’s eye. There is regret there, and turmoil, and something else—something terrifyingly final. You feel tears sliding down your cheeks, but you don’t bother wiping them away. You don’t care whether the guard understands or not. “Get up. Get out.” The guard’s nasally voice is directed at you. He does not even spare you a glance, but keeps his gaze locked on the duo huddling against the far wall. You stand slowly, favoring your right leg. You back up hesitantly, your gaze locked on your companions. Your heel hits against the fallen shelves, and you falter a bit before regaining your balance. You glance down at the fallen shelves, then up at the guard. He is approaching the duo slowly, his eyes on Bison. He looks cautious, probably due to the fact that while he is armed, Bison is double his size. Bison shields Fawn behind him, and all you can see of her are the auburn waves of her hair. [[You breathe in and exhale slowly, gathering your resolve.->Chapter10_02]]

You take an exaggerated step back with your other foot, your heel hitting hard against the shelves. You lose your balance and fall, but as you do so you reach out wildly as if to catch your balance. The guard shifts his focus to you just as your fingers meet with the fabric of his tunic. You grip hard and throw all your weight behind your fall, bringing the guard down with you. You try twisting your body to avoid the wood and broken glass, but your left knee strikes one of the shelves. The guard lands on top of you with a grunt of surprise and frustration, his weight pinning you down. Before he can recover, Fawn and Bison are out the door. You have only a moment in which to glimpse them racing down the hall toward the stairwell. The guard shouts something unintelligible as he staggers to his feet. He lashes out blindly, kicking your injured leg. A sharp stab of pain flares up your leg and you cry out. The guard runs from the room but you remain a moment longer, attempting to stand. Rolling onto your side, you gingerly pull yourself up, using the shelves for support. You brace your other knee beneath you and push up, trying to keep the weight off your injured leg. You climb laboriously to your feet—too slowly, much too slowly. You can hear footsteps stomping through the stairwell but you can’t tell if they’re above or below you. When you’ve regained your footing, you limp from the room. A pair of guard are racing up the stairs toward you and you flatten yourself against the wall to try to make room. One slips by without looking at you; the other, a vaguely familiar dark-skinned female, slows her steps. She narrows her eyes as she regards you, then elbows you in the gut and hurries pass. You grit your teeth and stumble down the stairs. She’s not worth your thoughts. You need to find your friends. You emerge from the clinic and find yourself among a crowd of workers gathered just outside the door. Several look at you fearfully, but realizing that you’re alone, they return their attention to the building itself. You stumble among them, desperately searching for Fawn and Bison. A frantic worker jostles you as he tries to make his way to the front, and your knee gives out. You start to fall but suddenly a pair of olive-skinned hands catch you beneath your elbows. You turn and find yourself looking into Ferret’s grey eyes. “{name}! What happened? Where are they?” Her expression is hardened, but you can see the fear in her eyes. You lean on her for support. “You didn’t see them?” “Just now?” When you nod, Ferret’s frown deepens. “No, no one’s left the building except you and the other healers.” You turn back to the crowds. “But they escaped, they had to. They left before me-” “Oh, no. Ah, fuck, no,” Ferret breathes, her voice breaking. “Up there.” She points and you look up to see two figures standing on one corner of the clinic’s roof, their feet precariously close to the edge. The weasel stands roughly fifteen feet away. He ambles slowly forward, his movements far too causal for the horror of the scene. He swings the club in his hands back and forth deliberately—a pendulum ticking down the moments as if their lives were nothing but a speck of his time. The other workers begin to notice the commotion above, and a hush falls over the mob. Bison’s arm is protectively around Fawn’s shoulders and he holds her slightly behind himself. Fawn is standing closer to the edge by you, but she leans in toward Bison, clutching his shirt at his chest. She briefly tears her fearful gaze from the guard to peer over her shoulder. When she straightens, her eyes meet yours, then flit to Ferret beside you. Even from this distance you can see her fingers relax, her hand unclench. Resolve flashes in her eyes, sharp and horrifyingly familiar—the image of the lesson a year ago rises unbidden in your head. No. *No, no, no.* Fawn steps out of Bison’s embrace so she can clasp his hand in hers. He turns to her, and the look he gives her is heartbreakingly affectionate. He lifts his other hand and clasps it around hers at his chest. She turns back to you. You’re not sure whether you’re hearing her voice or reading her lips. Or maybe you simply know, with grim precision, what her words are. “We will not be a lesson for them.” They turn as one and step off the ledge. The screams of the onlooking workers do nothing to muffle the sickening sound of bodies hitting the ground. You can hear it in your trembling hands, in the pain that lances your heart. You think you scream because your throat hurts, but you can not hear it. You’re only vaguely aware of hands moving about you, trying to support you as you fall to your hands and knees and retch onto the sand. [[Then there is only silence.->Chapter10_03]]

{ambient sound: 'sad'} You’re not sure what time it is. You know you’ve missed the meal, or perhaps are missing it now. Your clinic room is a mess. One set of shelves lies splintered on the floor—broken vials of glass litter the area in front of the door, the contents spilling onto the scattered cloths. You sit huddled in the corner—you don’t even remember how you got back here. Your legs are drawn up in front of you, your arms folded across them and your head in your arms. You are... [align left] > [[...numb.->Chapter10_03v1]] > [[...angry.->Chapter10_03v2]] > [[...heartbroken.->Chapter10_03v3]]

He swallows and nods. “You’re welcome. I didn’t read it, I promise. And I grabbed it before the other guard could see it.” You stare numbly at the paper—you don’t open it but you turn it over between your fingers. The guard coughs softly and stands up. “I’ll leave you alone.” He lingers awkwardly for a moment, then walks from the room. You continue to turn the paper over in your hands. While you supplied the ink, Bison penned the note himself. You never saw what he wrote. [align left] > [[You unfold it and read the note.->Chapter10_05v1]] > [[You keep it closed and tuck it into your pocket without reading.->Chapter10_05v2]]

He swallows and hastens to assure you. “I didn’t read it, I promise. And I grabbed it before the other guard could see it.” You stare numbly at the paper—you don’t open it but you turn it over between your fingers. The guard coughs softly and stands up. “I’ll leave you alone.” He lingers awkwardly for a moment, then walks from the room. You continue to turn the paper over in your hands. While you supplied the ink, Bison penned the note himself. You never saw what he wrote. [align left] > [[You unfold it and read the note.->Chapter10_05v1]] > [[You keep it closed and tuck it into your pocket without reading.->Chapter10_05v2]]

“I didn’t read it, I promise,” he assures you, holding his hands up. “And I grabbed it before the other guard could see it.” You stare numbly at the paper—you don’t open it but you turn it over between your fingers. The guard coughs softly and stands up. “I’ll leave you alone.” He lingers awkwardly for a moment, then walks from the room. You continue to turn the paper over in your hands. While you supplied the ink, Bison penned the note himself. You never saw what he wrote. [align left] > [[You unfold it and read the note.->Chapter10_05v1]] > [[You keep it closed and tuck it into your pocket without reading.->Chapter10_05v2]]

You feel a twinge of guilt for reading the private correspondence, but the need to have this connection - to have something to remember them by - is greater than your guilt. Your hands shake as you look at the large, blocky, almost child-like lettering scrawled on the page. [align center] *Fawn,* *When the world doesn’t see me, you do.* *When I don’t speak, you hear me.* *Of all the words I’ve learned, your name is my favorite.* [continue] You’re sobbing before you’ve even finished reading the brief message. You lean your head back and let the tears fall, the words reopening the raw ache in your chest. {embed passage: 'Chapter10_06'}

It would be wrong to read it. Bison wrote it for Fawn, and that doesn’t change even with them… gone. You think back to that meal when you, he, and Lion were sitting together. You remember the ease with which he spoke to you, and you feel your eyes tearing up. Fawn may not have heard his voice as you did, but Bison spoke volumes in his actions, his expressions, his affections. And in his note—read and re-read a hundred times over judging by the creases. {embed passage: 'Chapter10_06'}

You let out your breath and stand shakily, your knee still sore from earlier. You’ve been putting off visiting the Circle, but you need to see the others. [[It’s time.->Chapter10_07]]

It’s silence in the Circle. And you hate it. You sit at the base of the stairs, elbows resting over your knees, your hands clenching and unclenching, watching your companions in still quiet. Fawn and Bison’s names hang unsaid in the stilted air. They are with you there, in the room, the memory of their presence raw like a blister. You glance about the room, and the grief sits heavier in your gut, like a stone you can never dislodge. You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing softly. You wipe your hand over your face, pushing to your feet reluctantly. “We should...” Your voice breaks and you clear your throat, eyes drifting to your feet when the others in the room finally look at you. *We should be heading back, getting some sleep*, you want to say. But it feels so contrived, so unfeeling. The words surge and crest and break along your tongue. And yet, you cannot imagine sitting here in this quiet any longer. The silence will break you, you know this. So, you stand with your eyes on your feet, your hands winding nervously together before you. A sigh sounds from across the room, and then Lion’s deep timbre sifts through the air. “Go. Get some sleep. We can...” He stops, eyes drifting to the empty space Fawn and Bison once occupied. “We will return tomorrow,” he finishes, voice tight. Nothing happens for many moments, and then Heron is the first to move, pushing from his lean along the wall. He makes his way to Lion and settles his hand over his shoulder. Lion glances up at the motion, grasping his hand gratefully, the faint quirk of his lip upturned in thanks. Heron nods down at him, face gaunt in his anguish, an understanding squeeze to Lion’s shoulder. Then he slips from him, a last, lingering look of concern sent your way as he walks stiffly past you and up the stairs. Robin stands from their seat, eyes slipping shut as they gather themself, mouth a thin line, trembling. They blink back the wetness, glancing down to Ferret where she sits beside them. Robin reaches an open hand down to her. “Come,” they say simply, and doesn’t retreat when she glares up at their offered hand. But then she takes it, rising herself, releasing Robin’s hand as soon as she’s standing. Her gaze is heated, vengeful, *helpless*. You look away. You hear her sniff back an angry sob, catch the movement of them in your periphery as they exit the circle as well, until it is only you and Lion in the room. Back at the start. Except, it wasn’t supposed to feel this lonely. [[“I must... apologize.”->Chapter10_08]]

Lion's voice catches your attention so swiftly you almost stumble as you turn to him, watching as he threads his fingers together, his arms hanging over his knees as he sits leaning back against the wall. “What?” you ask, your voice a ragged whisper. Lion glances up, and the way his face crumbles almost rends you clean in two. His voice catches when he tries to open his mouth, his brows furrowed sharply together, and he braces a hand over his face, as though to cover the ruin, a choked off sob breaking against his rough palm. “I am so... *so* sorry, {name}.” “No,” you whisper, voice quaking, making your way to him, settling on your knees before him. “Oh, no, Lion, please—please, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault.” He squeezes his eyes shut, his hand wiping over his mouth. He draws a rattling breath through his lungs before he meets your gaze, sorrow blanketing his features. “I should have protected them.” “There was nothing you could do.” It’s the truth, and yet it still feels hollow. Useless. Meaningless lip service. *There was nothing you could do*. You tell yourself this, in the hope that you will believe it one day. Lion looks at his hands, palms up, his gaze turning hard and regretful. His voice is sour when it leaves him. “Everything I have built has fallen to pieces.” His anguish stirs something in you, something defiant, and the feeling overtakes you. You clasp his hands, drawing his gaze back to yours with the fervency of your touch. You stare back at him, unblinking, chin lifted. “But I’m still standing,” you tell him, words clipped. You do not relinquish your gaze. A sad smile touches his lips, his head cocked as he watches you. “You did that all on your own. I had no hand in it.” “You’re wrong.” The words are forceful, urgent. Lion sighs, a shake to his head. “{name}...” “I’m here because of you. We are *all here* because of you.” Your hands tighten over his, unwilling to let go. Lion frowns, his jaw setting. “Did you forget? You were the one who spoke to me first. I did nothing.” [if hasSwear] “Fuck that.” If his frown could dip any harsher, it would. [continue] You huff in exasperation, scooting closer on your knees, your hands never leaving his. If only he could see. If only he could *see*. “It doesn’t matter who spoke first. It matters that you listened.” Lion blinks at you, his shoulders slumping at the words, his mouth tipping open. Your face softens at his look, the words coming unhindered now, the breath filling your lungs with the first promise of hope since that dreadful morning. You offer a reassuring smile, the tears hot along your lids, unbidden. “You listened, Lion. When no one else in the world would. You *listened*. And that makes all the difference.” Lion’s eyes shift down to your joined hands, his face pulling tight, the threat of tears still lingering at the corners of his eyes. But his hands are firm beneath yours, his breaths steady and easy now. You lean toward him, making him meet your gaze. “Nothing, and no one, could ever unmake what you’ve done for us here, do you understand?” You squeeze his hands meaningfully. His eyes shift between yours, a nervous laugh leaving him, and he wipes at his face, releasing your hold of him as he clears his throat. “I am a big, bad builder, huh?” he asks on a worn chuckle, the hesitant lance of hope coloring his words. It makes your heart clench in your chest, even as you laugh, wiping at your own wet eyes. “Yes, you are,” you assure him with a fervent nod and a responding, tremulous laugh. Lion smiles up at you, and you know, without a doubt, that all is not lost. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter10_Lion'} [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter10_Heron'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter10_Ferret'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter10_Robin'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter10_SadFool'}

Your gaze grows tender, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, the roughness of his beard scratching your palms in a pleasant familiarity. You lean closer. “I am here. I am *always* here,” you tell him. You sigh, your breath fanning his lips. He looks up at you, his hands going round your wrists with an aching affection, his thumbs brushing over your pulse ardently, needfully. “So, stay with me,” you breathe out in the space between your lips, your forehead tipping to his. His eyes slip shut at your closeness, a shallow breath sucked between his teeth. “Always,” he promises. You do not have to meet his eyes to know he means it. Just as you do not have to speak to know he listens. Because he is here. Always. And nothing in the world could unmake that. [[Begin Chapter 11->Journal267]]

“Go on, get some rest,” he breathes, his tone a little steadier. He nods his head toward the stairwell. “I will be fine, my friend.” You spare him a glance over your shoulder as you walk from the room. His head is tilted back against the wall and his eyes are closed, but his breathing is steady and his expression, while not exactly peaceful, isn’t as tortured. You emerge from the stairwell, pausing to lift your head to the sky, and let out a ragged sigh. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, then your hand drops lower, lingering over your collarbone because you don’t have the strength to move it further. “Hey,” a low, familiar voice speaks at your side. You look over as Heron gets up from the steps and approaches, his gaze concerned. He glances briefly toward the hole leading down. “How is he?” “Better. Not great,” you sigh, your hand dropping to your side. Heron looks back at you. “And how are you?” You don’t answer him, you just stand there looking into his pale eyes—and suddenly you’re seven years old again back in the nursery, your friends torn from your side, the throbbing pain in your chest suffocating you, your voice hoarse from pleas that are always, *always* unanswered. [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] Then his arms are around you, tugging you to his chest, your hands fisting in his shirt. You lean your head against his shoulder, your cheek upon his neck, his hand cradling your head. Your mouth is too dry to speak or even to cry, so you stand there, the air escaping you in broken hiccups as a wave of dizziness washes over you. [else] Then his arms are around you, tugging you to his chest, your hands fisting in his shirt. You lean your head against his shoulder, your cheek upon his neck, his hand in your hair. Your mouth is too dry to speak or even to cry, so you stand there, the air escaping you in broken hiccups as a wave of dizziness washes over you. [continue] Your fingers are sore and stiff from your death grip on his shirt, your knuckles digging into his chest. Heron doesn’t move or wince, however; his grip around your shoulders tightens and you hear him draw a shallow, ragged breath. You realize dimly that he’s taking comfort from this embrace as much as he is giving it. You take a deep breath in through your nose, focusing on the way your belly expands against Heron’s as you breathe in, then let it out slowly. The feeling of your chest against his, of his heartbeat against yours, grounds you and the panic subsides. “I’m sorry,” you stutter when you can finally breathe again. “I don’t know where that came from.” “You don’t have to apologize,” Heron murmurs, stroking the back of your head. “I get it, believe me, I do.” He ducks his head and presses a kiss to your neck, lingering there. “I’m tired of losing friends to this City,” he says quietly, his voice muffled into your neck. “If I lost you again…” His words break off on a tremulous shudder. You want to assure him, but how can you when you feel the same fear lurking in the back of your mind? So, instead you hold him tighter, your hands lifting from his chest to circle around his back, the fingers of one hand threading into his hair. You focus on the feel of his stubble against your neck, his heartbeat matching your own, your breath stirring the blonde strands of his hair. You breathe in the comfort of his presence, the safety of his embrace, the certainty of this moment. Because this is all you can control. All you know. And for this moment, it is enough. [[Begin Chapter 11->Journal267]]

“Go on, get some rest,” he breathes, his tone a little steadier. He nods his head toward the stairwell. “I will be fine, my friend.” You spare him a glance over your shoulder as you walk from the room. His head is tilted back against the wall and his eyes are closed, but his breathing is steady and his expression, while not exactly peaceful, isn’t as tortured. You emerge from the stairwell, pausing to lift your head to the sky, and let out a ragged sigh. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, then your hand drops lower, lingering over your collarbone because you don’t have the strength to move it further. “{name},” a tentative, familiar voice speaks at your side. You look over as Robin gets up from the steps and approaches, their gaze concerned. “I offered to walk Ferret back but she wanted to be alone.” Their eyes flit toward the barracks, then back to you. “And she knew I wanted to be here for you.” You reach forward, touching the back of your fingers to their cheek. “How are you, dearest?” “I’m okay,” they assure you, letting out a tremulous breath. “I’m more concerned about you.” You study Robin for a moment. Their eyes are dull, vacant, with dark circles visible beneath, which the ash only makes more pronounced. Their shoulders are slumped, their posture weary, their lips trembling. With their history they have every right to be sad, bitter, broken, and yet here they are, concerned about you. And the way they said that word, *okay*, gnaws at you. Because it’s not. None of this is okay. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, then you fall forward, burying your head in the curls about their neck. Robin stumbles for a moment in surprise before catching you in their arms, circling your waist with one arm and bringing their other up between your shoulder blades to the back of your neck. “I know you’re trying to help,” you choke out, your words muffled into their hair, "but it’s not okay. What happened to them, what happened to you, is unfair and so, so incredibly wrong.” All you can think of is the burner in your arms and how they were once *not* okay—how repulsed and humiliated they felt after their time in the chamber. How tortured they looked during the lesson a year ago. How timid and frightened they were that day in the clinic. After suffering all that, did Robin ever consider taking their own life? How close were they to that precipice? And then you feel sick, horrified, shame at your relief that the one you love is safe in your arms, alive, while Fawn and Bison are not. The guilt merges with the relief till there is nothing in you but a dreadful, incoherent wreckage. “I’m sorry,” Robin falters. They sound troubled, and you immediately feel ashamed for worrying them when not a moment earlier, you were the one acting brave. “What can I do to help?” they ask, holding you tight. You frantically clasp your arms about them, clenching their back and shoulders, desperately seeking their warmth. You need that certainty, that comfort, something *right* in the midst of all that is wrong. “You already are,” you whisper. Robin doesn’t say anything but they rest their head down upon your shoulder, their nose pressed to the hollow of your throat. Their grip on your neck gently loosens, the hold more soothing now, stroking your back with their other hand. And for the first time that day, you feel safe. This is your shelter in the storm, your promise that things can be better. The world may be broken, unfair, and you may not be okay, but you have this—this surety, this solace in the arms of the one you love. And in that, there is hope. [[Begin Chapter 11->Journal267]]

{ambient sound: 'desert'} *Journal Entry 267* *Shannon died last night.* *She'd been battling an illness for some time—fever, cough, body aches. Keiko did what she could but they confiscated all her medical journals, deemed them “pre-war history.”* *And Shannon was a terrible patient. So stubborn, refused to rest, still trying to work…* *Keiko and I stayed up with her all night, talking and sharing old stories. She drifted in and out of consciousness but I could tell she heard us. She would laugh amidst her coughs, smile through the fever. In her more lucid moments she confided that she was worried about the changes happening in the community. She said she felt like no one listened when she spoke, that when she was among the Guard she forgot what it was like to be herself.* *She thanked Keiko and I for remaining her friends. We were holding her hands when she stopped breathing.* *I miss my friend.* [[Begin Chapter 11->Chapter11_00]]

~~Chapter 11~~ It’s the middle of the night and you are wide awake. You visited the Circle tonight. Spoke to your friends. Tried to read a book. You don’t remember it ever being so difficult. Eventually you gave up and decided to call it an early night. Now you lie wide awake on your cot in the clinic, listening to the rhythmic, steady breathing of your fellow healers—a subtle mockery of your own wakefulness. It’s been several days since the deaths of Fawn and Bison, and the mood in the Circle is noticeably different. While the grief has mostly passed, a restlessness remains. Lion has taken to anxiously prowling about the room like his namesake; Robin is again as wary and skittish as when you first met them; Heron has closed himself off, his expression once more behind a mask; and Ferret is quick to anger, snapping back over inconsequential things. You understand your friends’ emotions, though it’s difficult to watch. All the progress you’ve made over the last year, gone in an instant—broken by the uncompromising, unforgiving grip of The City. Something needs to change. Something has to give. Your hand clenches around the blanket at your chest. You see it now. It’s impossible to keep walking the line that you have been balancing. What you have been, and what you are on the verge of becoming, cannot coexist in this place. This is what The City took from you. [[And this is what you’re taking back.->Chapter11_01]]

hasHandNervousStat: true hasHandFirmStat: false hasNoHandNervousStat: false hasNoHandFirmStat: false -- You follow the builder down the first few steps, one hand in his, the other bracing against the wall. It’s gritty but cool to the touch. The air is tighter in here, heavier, but not so bad that you can’t breath. He stops you at about the sixth step. “Wait.” He releases your hand and turns back toward the top of the stairs. That’s when you realize the steps he pushed aside were hollow. He grasps the edge on the open under side and slides them back into place, though not all the way—he leaves a small groove between the steps and the platform. A handhold so you can climb back out later. You face forward again and find only darkness. “B-485?” “I am here.” You feel his hand in yours and you tighten your grip. You continue your trek down into the darkness. Squinting your eyes you think you see the stairwell widen further down, and a number of shadows where the darkness ebbs and bends. Eventually, you step onto level ground and realize you have come to the base of the stairs. The builder squeezes your hand briefly, then releases it. You can hear the quiet shuffle of his feet as he moves off to the left. You still can’t see a thing and it’s beginning to worry you. [[You open your mouth to say so when you hear a sharp *hiss*.->Chapter3_05]]

persona: 'Pathfinder' -- All eyes are on you, expectant, ready. It fills you with exhilaration. This was what you wanted: workers united, your *friends*, embarking on this journey together. You will learn, grow, face all challenges together and come out the better for it. For the first time in your life, you feel like you are truly *alive*. “Then it’s decided,” you say. “We’re together now. We’re the Circle.” [[Begin Chapter 6->Journal103]]

persona: 'Leader' -- All eyes are on you, expectant, ready. It fills you with determination. You didn't realize how heavy the weight of their expectations would be, but you are committed to this. You invited them here, and you will do all you can for them. Their commitment bolsters yours, and you feel your own hopes joining theirs, till they can no longer be contained by this room, this wall, this city. “Then it’s decided,” you say. “We’re together now. We’re the Circle.” [[Begin Chapter 6->Journal103]]

persona: 'Supporter' -- All eyes are on you, expectant, ready. It fills you with determination. You didn't realize how heavy the weight of their expectations would be, but you are committed to this. You invited them here, and you will do all you can for them. Their commitment bolsters yours, and you feel your own hopes joining theirs, till they can no longer be contained by this room, this wall, this city. “Then it’s decided,” you say. “We’re together now. We’re the Circle.” [[Begin Chapter 6->Journal103]]

persona: 'Observer' -- All eyes are on you, expectant, ready. It fills you with hope. Out of the corner of your eye you see the flame on the nearest candle flicker, the threads of fire reaching higher as if feeding on the changing air in the room. You feel your own hopes reaching ever higher with it, till they can no longer be contained by this room, this wall, this city. “Then it’s decided,” you say. “We’re together now. We’re the Circle.” [[Begin Chapter 6->Journal103]]

persona: 'Follower' -- All eyes are on you, expectant, ready. It fills you with dread. You didn't realize how heavy the weight of their expectations would be. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, and the idea of leading others, of having their lives in your hands, is suddenly terrifying. As if sensing your anxiety, the builder places a hand on your shoulder and softly squeezes. Letting the builder see your doubt is one thing. Showing *them*, especially after pushing so hard to bring them here, is unacceptable. You swallow down your fears and force your voice to remain steady. “Then it’s decided,” you say. “We’re together now. We’re the Circle.” [[Begin Chapter 6->Journal103]]

persona: 'Brawler' -- All eyes are on you, expectant, ready. It fills you with exhilaration. This was what you wanted: workers united, come what may, embarking on this journey together. This is the reckoning. “Then it’s decided,” you say. “We’re together now. We’re the Circle.” [[Begin Chapter 6->Journal103]]

You are a brawler. You are unhappy with the state of The City and you push for change, both within your environment and yourself. You are assertive and relentless, often bordering on reckless. You are bold and adventurous, but this may be a weakness in situations that require more tact and discretion. However, your companions respect that you are a person of action and deep passions.

The old guard finds you leaning against the back wall of the clinic in the early hours of dawn, your arms crossed, your gaze fixed on the wall in the distance. You knew his route, knew he would find you there, and so you waited. He startles when he sees you, shuffling back a few steps and nervously glancing over his shoulder. He approaches you with wide eyes. “What are you doing out here?” he whispers. You push off the wall and approach him, your {eye_color} eyes holding his. “I want you to tell me everything you know about this city—how it began, how the guard took control, how they’re organized, everything.” “It’s dangerous to talk about that-” [align left] > [[“It’s not.” You cut him off before he can continue. “It’s not dangerous. *Silence* is dangerous."->Chapter11_01v1]] > [["We’re already in danger.” You cut him off before he can continue. “Every. Single. Day. And I can’t live like this anymore.”->Chapter11_01v2]] > [[“Yes, it is.” You cut him off before he can continue. “And I’m terrified, yet I’m choosing to speak anyway.”->Chapter11_01v3]]

Guard G-72 comes to your room that evening while the other healers are at the meal, just as he said he would. You let out a relieved sigh when you see his silhouette in the doorway. You weren’t entirely sure he would come. He closes the door behind him and walks toward you, his arms crossed awkwardly in front of his chest. “{name},” he says, nodding briskly at you. [if hasFather] “Dad,” you reply with a smirk, nodding back in the same fashion. [else] “G-72,” you reply, nodding back in the same fashion. [continue] “I uh, thought you might find this useful.” He lowers his arms and withdraws a book from under his shirt. It’s thick but small, only a little bigger than the size of your hand. It looks like it may have been a shade of light blue or turquoise at one point, but has dulled to a bleached grey over the years. The cotton fabric on the cover and spine is worn and ragged, the edges threadbare, revealing brown beneath the blue-grey threads. You take it from him and open it gingerly, surprised to find that the writing inside is not the typeface you’re used to seeing. This book is handwritten. “This is…?” “I mentioned a journal before.” The guard nods at the book. “This is it. It was written by one of the founding councilors of The City, then passed down through succeeding councilors. I’m not sure how old it is, but I do know it’s been a couple generations since the original owner.” You flip slowly through the first few pages, your eyes quickly skimming the words. You return to the front page and find something scrawled on the inside front cover. [align center] *Property of Jeremiah Barrow* [continue] A name? “I think you’ll be surprised by what you find in there. Things were never meant to be,” he sighs and looks around, “like this.” You close the book and run your fingers down the spine, then you place it gently atop the highest shelf. “Thank you, I’ll read it tonight.” You sit cross-legged on the floor and the guard does the same opposite you. “But now I need to know everything you can tell me about the guard and The City.” [[“What do you want to know?”->Chapter11_04]]

[align left] > [[“How many guard are there?”->Chapter11_04v1]] > [[“Is there a leader? Someone in charge?”->Chapter11_04v2]] > [[“How many weapons do the guard have?”->Chapter11_04v3]] > [[“Are there others like you?”->Chapter11_04v4]] > [[You have no more questions.->Chapter11_05]]

“Not formally, no.” The guard shakes his head slowly as he thinks how to respond. “But there are three guard that tend to make all the decisions, and the rest follow their lead. One is G-160, the guard you tangled with outside the orchard. He’s probably the closest thing to a leader.” You remember the guard, a beastly pig of a man—his dark eyebrows pulled in a harsh V on his brow, his nostrils flaring in anger, his voice grating like the sand upon your skin. You frown and clench your fists in your lap. “G-160 is in charge of the lessons and the pits,” he continues. “The second is a female guard, G-158, and the third is another male, G-164. G-158 is in charge of the feeding station and the hall—or the well, to be specific. G-164 is in charge of the chamber and the nursery. He’s the one who, um… you know.” He gestures limply in the air. The weasel. “I remember him,” you say, your voice tight. You surmise that the female guard is the same one who approached you in the feeding station the day you were reunited with Heron. Also the same one who elbowed you in the stairwell. You take a deep breath, then let it out slowly as you ponder his words. “So, if we… removed, these three guard, the others would be easier to deal with?” The guard swallows, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “They’d certainly be confused and disorganized, yes.” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

“There are enough clubs and whips for every guard, but we don’t carry them all the time.” He gestures to his sides, where no weapon is equipped. “How do you determine who carries a weapon?” “It depends on where a guard is stationed. Those in the workshop or the fields aren’t usually armed, while those who watch over the building sites, are. Also depends on the guard. There are a few, like me, who don’t like the violence.” One corner of his mouth turns up in a rueful half-smile. “Our voices are enough to maintain order.” The smile drops and his voice grows somber. “But the three I mentioned are always armed.” “Do the weapons stay in the hall, then?” He nods. “Yes, in a room on the first floor. The guard equip them on their way in and out of the building.” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

“Like me?” he asks, his eyes widening. “Educated. Nice.” “Oh, well.” His lips turn upward in a small smile at your description. “I don’t think any others know how to read. When the councilor gave me that book,” he nods towards the shelf, “he told me to keep it secret. I was only 13, barely a year into my job. Any of the adults from that time have passed, and the younger guard don’t acknowledge me much. “As far as being nice… it’s difficult to say.” The guard chews his bottom lip and looks off to the side, his gaze faraway. “Most are just following orders, doing what they’ve been taught to do. It’s a duty, same as yours.” You narrow your eyes and struggle to keep your voice calm. “My job doesn’t involve beating defenseless workers.” The guard swivels his head when he hears the change in tone, and he raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Look, it’s not an excuse, but you have to understand that the guard were trained this way as kids, just like any worker. A few are cruel and take… enjoyment, in their job. But most don’t—most don’t feel anything at all.” His gaze softens and he reaches forward as if to touch you, then thinks better of it and drops his hand to the floor between you. “I didn’t feel anything until the day I saw *you*. Everything I had read and learned up till then was just abstract. I never understood what that councilor was telling me, everything in The City contradicted it. So I forced myself to become numb, because there is no other way to survive a job like this.” His eyes glisten, piercing you, and he edges closer. “But seeing you, and realizing that you were my, well, my {gender_5thPronoun}… that’s when it began to make sense. That’s when I started to feel.” His words strike a chord in you. It's easy to distance the guard, to view them as a single entity bent on cruelty. You hadn’t thought about what that must be like for a 12 year old child forced into the role—to be told that for the rest of your life, your job would be to live apart from every other worker. To beat anyone, including other children, who stepped outside the rules. To be cruel. To be hated. You let out a breath, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders. “Then, do you think any of them would be willing to change? To see reason?” He thinks for a moment, the fingers of his hand nervously tapping the floor. “I honestly don’t know. The few like me, the ones who don’t like the violence, they’d probably listen.” “How many is that?” “Maybe a dozen or so.” His fingers still and his lips press into a hard line. “But the ones who don’t feel anything are the ones you need to worry about. They’re used to following orders, and if they heard you speak the way you do, they’d probably be too stunned to do anything *but* listen. But whether you could convince them to change,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I imagine it would have to be personal, as it was for me.” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

You prop your arm on your knee and your chin in your hand, letting out a small hum as you ponder his words. “May I ask,” he ventures slowly, “what you intend to do?” Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. A part of you wants to grab your friends by the hands and run off into the night—just hop the wall and race off into the mountains with not a care in the world. Leave behind the sand and the sorrow. But what else would you be leaving behind? In answer you tell him, “I need to speak to my friends first. I’m not doing anything without them. I’ll see them tonight and share what you’ve told me.” “You’re going below the circle?” he asks, his face brightening. “What’s down there?” You’re momentarily thrown by his words. You should have guessed he had observed your nightly escapades, but the thought is still disconcerting. Then you realize what he asked. “Wait, you don’t know?” The guard shakes his head. “I didn’t know there was a room below till I saw you go down there one night. I didn’t mean to see you, it was an accident,” he’s quick to assure you. “I had been called into the nursery to help with a conflict, and it brought up some memories.” He spares a quick glance at you. “I took a walk after to sort out my thoughts. That’s when I saw you. But I haven’t gone back since.” You recall the troubled, aimless way he had moved that night, and you feel a twinge of compassion for the old guard. It had been difficult enough putting your own thoughts and emotions into words, and you had Lion to guide you. This man had no one. [if hasFather] You lift your chin from your palm and meet your father’s eye as a thought strikes you. Whatever you decide to do, will you include him? You’ve come to accept him as your father, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you accept him into the Circle. [else] You lift your chin from your palm and meet the guard’s eye as a thought strikes you. Whatever you decide to do, will you include him? Whether he’s your father or not is inconsequential. You’ve allowed him close and accepted his help, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you accept him into the Circle. [continue] Do you? [align left] > [[Yes, you trust him. But you're not sure how your friends would feel about bringing home the stray guard.->Chapter11_05v1]] > [[You want to trust him, but it’d be safer for all if he didn’t know details about the Circle. Not yet.->Chapter11_05v2]] > [[You still haven’t decided whether you trust him or not. You’re not letting him anywhere near your friends till you do.->Chapter11_05v3]]

“There are 50 of us.” You blink. So few? There are over a thousand workers in The City. “That’s… not a lot.” The guard nods, his expression grim. “They don’t need numbers to keep order, or weapons—all they need is your ignorance and dependence on them. They achieve that by hoarding the food, banning speech, hiding the water-” “I’ve seen the underground lake.” He sits up in surprise. “You have? Well, then you understand. Their control depends on secrecy, so they keep their ranks small.” “Speaking of the lake…” Your words slow as you picture the expansive cavern in your mind. “I noticed the water continues further under ground. Does it open above ground somewhere?” “Huh. I don’t know.” The guard scratches his beard. “It’s mentioned a few times in the journal, and it sounds like it does feed from somewhere, but I don’t know where. As far as surfacing above ground, I don’t believe anyone’s tried to find out.” “Do the guard ever venture outside the wall?” you ask. “No. Not in my years, at least. There’s no way through—you’d have to go over, and I’ve never heard of any guard making the attempt.” He spares a quick glance at the journal and his hand stills against his chin. “Following the direction of the water isn’t a bad idea. The journal refers to the landscape beyond the mountains as harsh and inhabitable, but it was written at least a century ago, I think, if not more. Perhaps things are different now?” {back link, label: 'You have another question.'}

“There are books down there,” you say, the corners of your lips turning up in a smile. “Books?” He swallows and his eyes widen. There’s a flash of concern in his gaze, but something else, something curious and yearning. “As in more than one?” “As in piles upon piles of them.” You reach forward and clasp your hand over his. You’re surprised at how coarse and leathery it feels, the wrinkles of his skin tickling yours. “If the others are comfortable with it, I’ll show you one day.” He returns your smile, his eyes creasing at the corners. “I would like that. And whatever you decide to do, you can count on my help.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_06'}

“I remember that night,” you say, evading his initial question. “I saw you on my way back to the clinic, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” His lips twist, his beard waggling at you as he smiles sheepishly. “Sorry for that.” You wave him off. “I’m not, it started us down this trek. The others will want to know about you. If they’re okay with it, maybe I’ll introduce you.” His smile warms, his eyes creasing at the corners. “I would like that. And whatever you decide to do, you can count on my help.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_06'}

“Don’t approach the Circle without me,” you warn him, your voice firm, though not severe. “The others don’t know you, and we all need time to adjust.” “I won’t,” he says soberly. “I understand your hesitancy, but believe me, I only want to help.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_06'}

You nod, then clamber to your feet. “Thank you again for the journal,” you tell the guard, offering your hand down to him, “and for the information. I’ll find you once we’ve decided what to do.” He takes your hand and you help him to his feet, but he doesn’t let go immediately. He looks at your joined hands, his head tilted to the side, his expression thoughtful. “I want to thank you, for giving me a chance. I wanted to speak to you so many times before, but I was too afraid. You’re much braver than I.” He meets your eye, gives your hand a firm shake, then turns and walks from the room, leaving you with a heavy decision to make. [[And a book to read.->Chapter11_07]]

The next evening you return to the Circle. You stifle a yawn as you flit from one shadow to the next. Your mind is too preoccupied, too agitated to rest, but your body is rebelling against the lack of sleep. You stayed up the previous evening reading the entire journal. It was fascinating and heartbreaking, and you're eager to share it with the others. You keep it clutched against your chest as you make your way through the quiet streets. There’s an unknown burner watching the fire tonight, and you take extra care as you slip quietly down the stairs. Everyone else is already there. You get a few glances your way, a couple nods, but the room remains uncomfortably quiet. This can’t go on. “Hey,” you call out, your voice sharp, stern. You throw the thick journal down on the table and it lands with a solid thump, rattling the wooden table legs. Four startled pairs of eyes turn your way. [[“We need to talk.”->Chapter11_08]]

You tell them everything you have learned, every last detail—about guard G-72 (maybe, probably) being your father, about the end of the council, about the state of the current guard, and the revelations in the journal. “Do you believe G-72?” Lion asks. He sits against the wall, his hands clasped above his knees. “About the guard and the council?” [if hasFather] “I do, I believe my father,” you say firmly, emphasizing the word. “If you had spoken to him, watched his expressions, you’d know he was telling the truth.” [else] “I do,” you say firmly. “If you had spoken to him, watched his expressions, you’d know he was telling the truth.” [continue] “Can’t believe we’re listening to a guard now,” Ferret mutters, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Then she stands and plants her hands on her hips. “So, that’s it then. We revolt.” “Whoa, whoa, that’s not it,” Heron objects, half rising from his seat on the crate. “No one ever said anything about a revolt. I say we leave, just grab some supplies and get the hell away from this damn place.” “And go where?” “Anywhere! Anywhere is better than here. If the journal is correct then there may be other people, other places out there,” Heron says eagerly, gesturing his arm toward the stairwell. “But could we abandon these people so easily?” Lion asks, his voice a low timbre. “Would they even follow us if we asked them?” Robin asks worriedly. “I understand wanting to help the other workers, but they may not *want* our help.” “They’ll follow us when they see us take out the guard,” Ferret says darkly. “Okay, look,” you interrupt, stepping into the center of the room. “We’re not going to decide anything tonight. You all need to read *that*,” you gesture to the journal. “Take a few days to think it over. Then we’ll return here and decide what to do. But whatever we decide, we do it together.” You take a moment to regard your friends, pausing on each of their faces. “We don’t split up, we don’t abandon anyone. We’re a family. Promise me that. Right now.” [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] “Damn right.” Heron grins and rises from the crate, jostling your shoulder as he stands. His pale eyes dance with mirth, and you almost laugh in relief. “You said it, we’re family,” Heron continues. “For better or worse, we’re in this together.” [if loveInterest === 'burner'] “We promise,” Robin affirms. They step close and take your hand in theirs, their fingers entwining with yours. “We’ll abide the decision, whatever that is. This Circle will not break,” they say, their voice confident, their eyes unwavering. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] “That was never in question,” Ferret snorts. She moves to stand beside you, the fingers of her hand brushing against your wrist. Her expression is stern, but there’s a softness in her eyes as she spares a glance at the others. “No one is abandoning anyone. Not ever.” [if loveInterest === 'builder'] “Of course, no question.” Lion stands and clasps your shoulder, squeezing gently. His expression has regained that former intensity, but also that reassuring steadiness. “I promise, {name}. We will do this together.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] “Of course, no question.” Lion stands and clasps your shoulder, squeezing gently. His expression has regained that former intensity, but also that reassuring steadiness. “I promise, {name}. We will do this together.” [continue] The others voice their agreement without hesitation. You let out a relieved breath and lift your chin. “Good. Take some time to read the journal.” You turn toward the stairwell, covering your mouth as another yawn escapes. “I'm going to get some sleep.” [[You lazily wave a hand over your shoulder as you head upstairs.->Chapter11_09]]

Five days have passed since that night. You allowed your friends time for each of them to read the journal and to gather their thoughts. And in that time, you observed. You observed the guard around the feeding station when you went to meal. Most were unarmed, just as G-72 had said, and those that were kept their weapons affixed to the belts at their waist or slung across their backs. They moved with a detached, almost mechanical rhythm, and barely showed any acknowledgment or familiarity with each other. In stark contrast, the wasp - as you had come to think of the female guard - walked the premises as if she owned it, her expression cold and imperious, a whip always clutched in her grip. The other guard lowered their gazes and moved out of her way when she approached. The only two who met her eyes unflinchingly were the other ringleaders, the weasel and the pig. You observed the fields where the gatherers worked. Just as in the feeding station, the guard here were mostly unarmed. There were roughly a dozen of them scattered throughout the fields and orchard. They walked distractedly among the hunched workers, their gazes empty and emotionless. When it was time for the gatherers to deliver the harvest, they walked on the outskirts of the large group, like shepherds herding their flock. You observed the guard at the pits, of which there were, thankfully, very few, no more than two or three stationed here. No doubt they found the conditions as unbearable as you did. But the pig was here often enough—his eyebrows clenched together, a permanent scowl on his face, his club always at hand. You noted the days he wasn’t at the pits, and on those days you would invariably see a new patient at the clinic with bruises and wounds. And you realized, those were the days he had committed a lesson. You made certain to walk by each construction site and observe the guard stationed there. There were at least half a dozen at each site. They walked above the diggers in the trenches, skirted among the builders and the construction, and monitored the sweepers as they assembled their load and hauled it off to the pits. These guard were alert, watchful, and always armed. But due to the sheer amount of workers required here, they were outnumbered ten to one. You forced yourself to observe the chamber and even venture inside the nursery. The takers mostly ignored you, too absorbed with the children, or, often, too apathetic to care. There were only a handful of guard stationed here—while children could be unruly, the takers were usually the discipliners, and the guard only monitored the situation. Among the guard was the weasel, who seemed to find a sadistic pleasure in strolling among the children, watching them trip over themselves as they scampered out of his way. He swung the club back and forth in his hands, a cruel leer on his lips. It took every ounce of will to keep your expression neutral when you watched him. On the fifth day, the day you all agreed to return to the Circle, you visit the workshop. The guard here are also few and unarmed. The workshop is a cramped, multi-level space, and it doesn't allow much room for patrols, so the guard take to standing near the windows, paying more attention to the activity outside than in. Oddly enough, the most unusual thing you observe here is the behavior of the other weavers. There is one empty work desk that they slow when passing—they dare to lift their gazes from the ground when they approach, their eyes scanning the empty space, mixed expressions of sadness on their faces. One female weaver even stops to lay her hand briefly against the silent cotton loom, her hand disturbing the thick layer of sand that has settled on the unused apparatus. You realize with a start that this must have been Fawn’s work station. [[It appears she touched more lives than just yours.->Chapter11_10]]

Later that afternoon, you have just returned from the feeding station and are busy mixing and replenishing your medicines. You don’t know what will happen tonight, and it’s good to be prepared. Your last remaining set of shelves is stocked full of ointments, salves, and tonics of all types. You’re just squeezing the last vial onto the top shelf when a noise interrupts your work—a brief, sharp wail that stops you in your tracks. It’s a man’s voice, harsh and pained. Then a whimper follows, a soft, feminine voice, and a muffled sob. The voices are coming from the room across the hall from yours, assigned to a young, 15 year old female healer, newly on her own after her mentor succumbed to disease. Your feet move of their own accord—rushing through the door before skidding to a stop. A male worker, a builder, is sitting on the cot, his left shoulder bruised and deformed. He’s trying to keep his injured arm straight at his side, but he’s shaking and breathing hard, grunting in pain. The young healer, a blond-haired, slender thing, is standing at his side with her hands on his arm. Tears are streaming down her face and she looks as scared as her patient when she sees you. You let out your breath when you realize what’s happening. The man’s shoulder has been dislocated, and the young girl is either too weak or too scared to move it back into place properly. You smile kindly at the young healer, who recognizes you. She hiccups and hurriedly wipes the tears from her cheeks. You step forward to help but when you come abreast of the two workers, both eyeing you expectantly, you pause, your thoughts in a whirl. You can fix the man’s shoulder yourself, or you can instruct the young healer, talk her through it as you do so. Speaking in front of strangers is risky, especially now, but maybe… it’s an opportunity? The choice feels weightier than it should, significant, like a precursor to the encounter that awaits you tonight. [align left] > [[You speak.->Chapter11_13v1]] > [[You speak, but keep your words short and clipped so as not to arouse suspicion.->Chapter11_13v2]] > [[You silently help the man. There’s too much at stake now.->Chapter11_13v3]]

“I can help you,” you tell them. You hold your hands palms up and gesture to the man’s shoulder. “Let me show you.” The worker sits up straight, his hazel eyes widening. The young healer freezes, then nearly trips over herself as she scampers out of your way. You gesture to the cot. “I need you to lie down.” The worker obeys, laying back on the cot with your assistance. “Your shoulder is dislocated, we need to pop it back into place. This is going to be uncomfortable,” you warn him. He swallows but doesn’t resist. You grip the man’s wrist and catch the healer’s eyes. “Place your hands here, like this.” She tentatively places her hands beside yours, and you slowly move his arm up till it’s at about the height of his shoulder. He groans and the young healer lets go in concern, but you shake your head and gesture her back. “No, no, I need your help,” you explain. “We need to rotate his arm, it will be better once we do.” She swallows, then rejoins you, and the two of you continue to raise the man’s arm, this time while rotating it. You see the bulge beneath his skin roll into place with an uncomfortable popping noise. “Oh!” the young healer exclaims. Then she gasps and covers her mouth with her hand, and you bite back a laugh. The man releases a sharp moan, then noticeably relaxes, his eyes shifting to yours as his breathing calms. You bend his arm at the elbow, and the young healer, anticipating your need, grabs a long sturdy cloth from her pile. You fashion a sling, securing the man’s arm close to his body, then you both help him to sit up. You peruse the healer’s shelves till you find a small vial of eucalyptus oil and gently massage a few drops into the man’s shoulder. “Try not to move this arm when you work,” you tell him. He looks bewildered but nods in understanding, his eyes flitting from your face to your hands as you work. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_14'}

“I help,” you tell them. You hold your hands palms up and gesture to the man’s shoulder. The young healer nods in understanding and steps out of your way. Catching the worker’s eye, you point to the cot. “Lie down.” He shifts to the side with your assistance and lays back on the cot. You grip the man’s wrist and catch the healer’s eyes. “Come, hands here.” She tentatively places her hands beside yours, and you slowly move his arm up till it’s at about the height of his shoulder. He groans and the young healer lets go in concern, but you shake your head and gesture her back. “Come, need move arm,” you tell her. She rejoins you and the two of you continue to raise the man’s arm, this time while rotating it. You see the bulge beneath his skin roll into place with an uncomfortable popping noise. “Oh!” the young healer exclaims. Then she gasps and covers her mouth with her hand, and you bite back a laugh. The man releases a sharp moan, then noticeably relaxes, his eyes shifting to yours as his breathing calms. You bend his arm at the elbow, and the young healer, anticipating your need, grabs a long sturdy cloth from her pile. You fashion a sling, securing the man’s arm close to his body, then you both help him to sit back up. You peruse the healer’s shelves till you find a small vial of eucalyptus oil and gently massage a few drops into the man’s shoulder. “No move, no work arm,” you tell him, pointing to his arm. He nods in understanding, his eyes flitting from your face to your hands as you work. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_14'}

You hold your hands palms up and gesture to the man’s shoulder. The young healer nods in understanding and steps out of your way. Catching the worker’s eye, you point to the cot and make a gesture to lie down, which he does with your assistance. You grip the man’s wrist and slowly move his arm up till it’s at about the height of his shoulder. He groans in pain and the young healer comes around to his other side, laying a cold compress against his forehead. You smile and nod your head in encouragement. You continue to raise the man’s arm, this time while rotating it. You see the bulge beneath his skin roll into place with an uncomfortable popping noise. “Oh!” the young healer exclaims. Then she gasps and covers her mouth with her hand, and you bite back a laugh. The man releases a sharp moan, then noticeably relaxes, his eyes shifting to yours as his breathing calms. You bend his arm at the elbow, and the young healer, anticipating your need, grabs a long sturdy cloth from her pile. You fashion a sling, securing the man’s arm close to his body, then you both help him to sit back up. You peruse the healer’s shelves till you find a small vial of eucalyptus oil and gently massage a few drops into the man’s shoulder. “No move, no work arm,” you tell him, pointing to his arm. He nods in understanding, his eyes flitting from your face to your hands as you work. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_14'}

You step back when finished. The worker stands and inclines his head first to you, then to the young healer, his hazel eyes lingering on you for a moment, his lips creasing in the hint of a smile. Then he walks from the room and you’re left alone with the girl. She pushes her long hair behind her ears and turns her wide, blue eyes on you. She opens and closes her mouth, searching for words that are not there. You smile in understanding and reach out to ruffle her hair. “Good work,” you tell her. She grins, the expression friendly and guileless. You wave your hand in farewell and return to your room, feeling more confident about tonight. [[Next->Chapter11_15]]

On the evening of the fifth day, you return to the Circle. You feel the anticipation in the room before you even finish descending the stairs—it feels like the stillness right before a thunderclap, or the pause between breathing in and breathing out. You are the last to arrive, and when you do, the others regard you with mixed expressions of apprehension, determination, and thankfully, happily, with hope. “This,” Heron brandishes the journal in front of you before he drops it on the table, “is insane!” “Those poor people,” Robin murmurs. They’re sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the table, and as they lean forward to pick up the journal they wince, as if feeling the weight of the words within. “To think that The City began as a way to unite and guide people, only to become so horribly warped.” “I agree, it’s tragic,” you say, touching their shoulder as you step fully into the room. “But their fate doesn’t have to be ours. We need to decide what we’re going to do. The way I see it we have two options.” You hold up two fingers. “One, we escape. Grab whatever supplies we can and leave The City. Or two,” you straighten your shoulders, “we stay, and fight back. Revolt against the guard and change this city for the better.” For awhile no one speaks, everyone shifting their gazes between one another. Heron is the one to eventually break the silence. “I vote escape.” He bends a knee and half sits, half leans against the table. “This city is past saving, and I don’t want to risk losing anyone else. Between the five of us we can make a living beyond that wall.” He gestures to Lion and Ferret. “The two of you have experience building, you can help with shelter. I know how to cook. {name} is a healer. And we all have experience farming.” “I contribute nothing,” Robin mumbles, their dejected gaze fixed on the journal in their lap. “All I know is how to burn things.” “Not true,” Heron says, clasping Robin’s shoulder and giving a brief squeeze. “You’re quick and perceptive, you’d make a good scout or a forager. And I can teach you how to cook.” Robin’s eyes alight at this and they smile gratefully. “My point is,” Heron continues, “we have everything we need to survive.” He removes his hand to the table, his long fingers drumming on the surface. “I say we steal clothes, blankets, food, medicine, whatever we need, and we get the hell outta here before anyone else gets hurt.” “If everything we need is here, then I say we stay and take it,” Ferret retorts. She paces about the room, her hair swaying about her shoulders. “You said there’s only three guard to deal with-” “Most likely, but not certain,” you interject. “The others are a wild card.” “Fine. Best case, three guard. Worst case, what? Forty or so? We have a thousand workers on our side.” She clenches her fists. “We’ll take the guard’s weapons and toss them into the pits. Without their weapons, those are pretty damn good odds.” “You’re assuming the other workers will fight by our side,” Heron points out. “Who’s to say they’ll even listen to us? Not everyone hates the guard as much as you do.” “I’m not-” Ferret stops pacing and takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m not just saying this because I hate the guard. Yeah, I hate them. But things were never meant to be like this, and we have an opportunity to fix it. I think we have a much better chance of turning this city around than taking our chances out in the wilderness.” “I agree,” Lion speaks up. He’s leaning against the wall between two piles of books, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Neither option is without danger. No matter how prepared we may be, we do not know what it is like beyond the mountains. On the other hand, taking on the guard is risky. But, if we manage to bring them down, we can make this city better for everyone. We would be helping more than just ourselves.” His grip tightens around his arms. “And I say this with the full understanding that we may be the only ones fighting. I accept that responsibility. I think it is worth a try.” “You’re speaking of fighting as if it’s some abstract thing,” Heron presses. “If we attack the guard, someone could be killed. What if *we* have to kill?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that.” Ferret scoffs. “The guard won’t hesitate to kill us. We’re simply defending ourselves, defending our right to live.” “Would you really be able to kill someone?” you ask her. “Even a guard?” [[Your mind drifts to G-72 and you wince.->Chapter11_11]]

hasNoHandFirmStat: true hasHandNervousStat: false hasHandFirmStat: false hasNoHandNervousStat: false -- The danger of the moment, the rebellious thrill, spurs you forward. You shoulder past him, bracing your hand against the wall. It’s gritty, but cool to the touch. The air is tighter in here, heavier, but not so bad that you can’t breath. You’ve only taken a few steps down when the deep timbre of his voice stops you. “Wait.” You glance over your shoulder to see the builder reaching for the block of stairs that had been hiding the entrance, and you realize then that the steps are hollow. He grasps the edge on the open under side and slides them back into place, though not all the way—he leaves a small groove between the steps and the platform. A handhold so you can climb back out later. You face forward again and find only darkness. Squinting your eyes you think you see the stairwell widen further down, and a number of shadows where the darkness ebbs and bends. You venture down the dark stairwell, but it’s difficult to see anything, and the coating of sand on the stairs makes your footing slippery. After a few awkward steps, you misstep. You reach out blindly as you fall but can’t find a handhold, and you stumble down the last few stairs, landing in an ignoble heap on the floor. “Are you alright?” the builder calls from the stairs above you. You grunt in reply, massaging your bottom as you clumsily stand. He mutters something about hand holding, then you hear the quiet shuffle of his feet and feel his arm brush yours as he moves past you. You still can’t see a thing and it’s beginning to worry you. [[You open your mouth to say so when you hear a sharp *hiss*.->Chapter3_05]]

hasNoHandNervousStat: true hasNoHandFirmStat: false hasHandNervousStat: false hasHandFirmStat: false -- The darkness looming in the stairwell below you is intimidating, and you’d rather follow behind the builder. He shrugs absently before lowering his hand, then steps assuredly down into the darkness. You follow after, bracing yourself against the wall. It’s gritty, but cool to the touch. The air is tighter in here, heavier, but not so bad that you can’t breath. He stops at about the sixth step. “Wait.” He squeezes past you and reaches for the block of stairs that had been hiding the entrance, and you realize then that the steps are hollow. He grasps the edge on the open under side and slides them back into place, though not all the way—he leaves a small groove between the steps and the platform. A handhold so you can climb back out later. You face forward again and find only darkness. Squinting your eyes you think you see the stairwell widen further down, and a number of shadows where the darkness ebbs and bends. You feel rather than see the builder move past you as he takes the lead. The darkness is oppressive, unbroken—the light from the pits partly illuminated The City above, but this is endless. You can barely make out the broad line of his shoulders ahead of you, and the thin coating of sand on the stairs makes your footing slippery. After a few steps, you misstep. You reach out as you fall but can’t find a handhold, and you stumble down the last few stairs, smashing your nose between the builder’s shoulder blades. He grunts but doesn’t budge, his sturdy frame taking the brunt of your fall. You step back and rub your nose, thinking briefly that a human body shouldn’t feel so solid. He mutters something about hand holding, then you hear the quiet shuffle of his feet as he moves off to the left. You still can’t see a thing and it’s beginning to worry you. [[You open your mouth to say so when you hear a sharp *hiss*.->Chapter3_05]]

You don’t know how long you sit there but you become gradually aware of another presence in the room. You knew the guard would send someone to punish you for interfering, just as they had Lion. You know they’re there, somewhere in front of you. You can feel the weight of eyes on you and hear the carefully measured breathing. After several moments with neither of you acknowledging the other, you lift your head, just enough to peer over your arms. [if hasFather] On the floor in front of you sits your father. [else] On the floor in front of you sits the old guard. [continue] “Did they send you to punish me?” you ask, your voice flat, hoarse from crying. “They did. Of course, I won’t do it.” You sigh and lay your head sideways in your arms. You peer out the window to your right. The sky is that murky shade of indigo right after the sun has set—that moment when the light has been extinguished, but it’s not yet completely dark. “The workers that died today,” the guard begins softly, “were they your friends?” “They were,” you answer, your gaze still on the window. “Their names were Fawn and Bison.” You don’t know why you’re telling the guard this, but it feels wrong to remember them as only workers. They were more. They deserved more. “You all have names?” He sits up straighter, his voice perking up. “What’s yours?” “{name}.” “{name},” he repeats, as if testing the sound of it. “Good name.” You don’t answer him. The conversation grows stale, meaningless. Nothing seems right to say. Nothing seems *worth* saying. “I’m sorry.” You lift your head and look at him. His eyes meet yours and you can see the sadness in them—it’s an old, weary emotion, as if he’s lived this moment and uttered these words many times before. While you believe he means it, the words are insufficient, wanting. He shifts and reaches a hand into the pocket of his pants. He withdraws a square of folded paper, dog-eared and worn, as if it had been read many times. He contemplates it for a moment, then stretches his hand toward you. “I found this on the girl’s, um… Fawn had this on her. I, uh, thought you should have it.” You stare at the folded paper, your heart in your throat. You recognize the spilt ink stains and the shaky script. There’s a new stain on one corner, burnt red and unmistakeable. It is the note you helped Bison write. You shudder and reach forward, your fingers shakily clenching the note. [align left] > [[“Thank you,” you whisper.->Chapter10_04v1]] > [[You can’t speak, and simply nod.->Chapter10_04v2]] > [[You quickly yank it from his grasp.->Chapter10_04v3]]

You know you are crying because you can taste the salt upon your lips, feel the wetness upon your cheeks. But that is all you feel. Your mind is hazy, hollow—like you are once again a worker with nothing but your purpose. Except you have lost even that. What is the point of all you have learned, if it can't even save your friends? {embed passage: 'Chapter10_04'}

You are seething, bitterness like ash upon your throat. Angry tears blind your vision, and it takes all of your willpower not to scream your resentment at the top of your lungs. You are angry at The City, the guard, the chamber, even, especially, at yourself. What is the point of growing stronger, if you can't even protect your friends? {embed passage: 'Chapter10_04'}

A flood of tears stream down your cheeks, your body shivering with the force of your sobs, silent and unanswered in the dark. You feel the loss of your friends like an open wound upon your heart, cutting, oppressive, infinite. What good is being a healer, if you can't even save your friends? {embed passage: 'Chapter10_04'}

Your muffled question is caught between her lips as she opens her mouth over yours, pressing herself against you, tilting her head to kiss you deeper, and you let her, for a moment, your hands going for her waist, your eyes fluttering shut. She pushes you back until you hit a tree, your mouths breaking apart from the jostle, your gasp expelled against her lips, her eyes roving your face intensely. Then she’s dipping her mouth to your throat, her teeth nipping at the skin there, her hands fumbling for your shirt, dragging it up. But the motion is too desperate, and her hands are trembling too much, and she won’t meet your eyes, and you think this is what fear looks like. This is what fear looks like in a woman who has always loathed it. The thought is sobering. “Wait, wait, stop.” You grab at her wrists, trying to halt her motions. She grunts against your throat. “Why?” It’s a heavy pant, the words like a taut string. You tug at her wrists again, pulling her hands from your shirt. “Ferret, stop.” She does. She stops instantly, almost eerily. You stand there panting against her, her mouth hovering over your shoulder, her head still bowed. “I don’t think I can,” she says finally, the words breaking against the skin of your neck. Your grip loosens around her wrists and she drops her hands, a single, slow breath filling her lungs. And then she looks up at you. It’s like you’re back beneath the rain, from all those weeks ago. Her brows are crinkled together, her mouth trembling as she purses her lips, keeping her jaw clamped tight, as though she could keep the sobs caged behind her clenched teeth, as though the grief could mend with ire. “I don’t think I can stop anymore, {name},” she gets out through barred teeth. She shakes her head, tears beading in her eyes. “Because if I do...” She swallows back the break, her chest rising and falling unsteadily. “If I don’t take what’s mine, then they’ll take it for me. And I won’t–” She stops, licking her lips as she swallows thickly. “I won’t let that happen again.” You sigh at her words, at the fierce look she levels you with. You remember, instantly, the look upon her face when she first caught sight of Fawn and Bison on the rooftop’s edge. “I’m here, Ferret. I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes narrow almost angrily. “You can’t promise that.” It’s true, and you hate that she calls you out for it. But it’s the only comfort you can offer in this moment. “Maybe not. But I’m here, all the same. And I don’t want grief to be our guide. I want us to decide things for ourselves. Don’t you?” She huffs out a frustrated breath. “I *am* deciding for myself. I’m deciding that I want you. Right now. Understand?” You cock your head at her, a plaintive look crossing your features. “Ferret.” Her eyes grow wet again, and she wipes a hand across them, stepping back from you a moment. “I just... I just don’t want to lose anyone else.” She takes a shuddering breath in. Your heart nearly rends in two right there in the small clearing. “I know,” you get out roughly. You clear your throat, try to be strong for her, for yourself. “Do you trust me?” She groans at your question. “Of course, I trust you.” “Then trust that I won’t let this city take any more from you.” Ferret gives you a baleful look. “It’s not that simple and you know it.” “Are you scared?” She stops at your question, blinking at you, her mouth parted. It’s answer enough. You take her hands in yours. “I’m scared, too,” you tell her. You meet her gaze with your own needful one. “But you taught me that courage means being scared and acting anyway. Because it’s okay to be afraid, so long as we don’t let it rule us.” Ferret dips her head, her eyes landing on your joined hands. Your thumbs brush over her knuckles comfortingly. “I’m yours, then, huh?” you ask, a chuckle at the end of your words, though it’s still tinged with grief. But you need to make something absolutely clear here before anything else can happen. “Is that what this is? An act of desperation?” Ferret’s eyes narrow so sharply you almost miss it. “That’s not what this is,” she snaps. “You sure about that?” Ferret pulls from you, her breath raking from her. “Are you saying you don’t want this?” “You’re changing the subject.” “No, this is *exactly* the fucking subject,” she clips out. “Do you want this or not?” You huff out your frustration. “Not if it’s not real.” That stops her short, her eyes shifting between yours almost incredulously. You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a steadying breath. When you reach for her hands again, she lets you take them. Her lack of resistance is more telling than anything. “I want you to want this like I do: genuinely. And not borne of fear.” Ferret pulls her lip between her teeth, her anger seeping out of her. “I do,” she says softly. And then she gives you a determined look. “I’ve wanted this for a long, long time.” You glance down to your joined hands, to the way she grips at you just as fiercely now. “I want us to love freely,” you get out roughly. Because in a world where tragedies like Fawn and Bison’s exist, it means all the more that you make this choice freely, that you *love* freely. And you know, under all the fear and anger, that it’s what Ferret truly wants as well. “Can I hold you?” she asks suddenly, the tenderness raw in her voice. You glance back up at her, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “Always,” you tell her. She slips her arms around your neck wordlessly, sighing at your ear when she braces her chest to yours. Your arms link around her waist, hugging her back just as tightly. In this little pocket of the world, somewhere between the trees, between the walls and The City and empty, open sky, somewhere only you and she exist—it feels the most freely you’ve ever loved anything in this life. [align left] > [[❤️ “So, uh, you’ve wanted this for how long, exactly?” you ask playfully. (sex, explicit)->Chapter10_FerretLovev1]] > [[❤️ “So, uh, you’ve wanted this for how long, exactly?” you ask playfully. (sex, fade to black)->Chapter10_FerretLovev2]] > [[❤️ “So, uh, you’ve wanted this for how long, exactly?” you ask playfully.->Chapter10_FerretLovev3]] > [[You grip her tighter to you, your smile blowing wide.->Chapter10_FerretLovev4]]

You grab at her wrists, dragging her hands back from you. “Ferret, stop,” you say gently. She slumps at the words. Her sudden lack of motion is almost eerie. She doesn’t meet your eyes, her hands trembling at your neck, and you realize this is what fear looks like. This is what fear looks like in a woman who has always loathed it. The thought is sobering. “I don’t think I can,” she says finally. Your grip loosens around her wrists and she drops her hands, a single, slow breath filling her lungs. And then she looks up at you. It’s like you’re back beneath the rain, from all those weeks ago. Her brows are crinkled together, her mouth trembling as she purses her lips, keeping her jaw clamped tight—as though she could keep the sobs caged behind her clenched teeth, as though the grief could mend with ire. “I don’t think I can stop anymore, {name},” she gets out through barred teeth. She shakes her head, tears beading in her eyes. “Because if I do...” She swallows back the break, her chest rising and falling unsteadily. “If I don’t take what’s mine, then they’ll take it for me. And I won’t –” She stops, licking her lips as she swallows thickly. “I won’t let that happen again.” You sigh at her words, at the fierce look she levels you with. You remember, instantly, the look upon her face when she first caught sight of Fawn and Bison on the rooftop’s edge. “I’m here, Ferret. I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes narrow almost angrily. “You can’t promise that.” It’s true, and you hate that she calls you out for it. But it’s the only comfort you can offer in this moment. “Maybe not. But I’m here, all the same. And I don’t want grief to be our guide. I want us to decide things for ourselves. Don’t you?” She huffs out a frustrated breath. “I *am* deciding for myself. I’m deciding that I want you. Right now. Understand?” You cock your head at her, a plaintive look crossing your features. “Ferret.” Her eyes grow wet again, and she wipes a hand across them, stepping back from you a moment. “I just... I just don’t want to lose anyone else.” She takes a shuddering breath in. Your heart nearly rends in two right there in the small clearing. “I know,” you get out roughly. You clear your throat, try to be strong for her, for yourself. “Do you trust me?” She groans at your question. “Of course, I trust you.” “Then trust that I won’t let this city take any more from you.” Ferret gives you a baleful look. “It’s not that simple and you know it.” “Are you scared?” She stops at your question, blinking at you, her mouth parted. It’s answer enough. You take her hands in yours. “I’m scared, too,” you tell her. You meet her gaze with your own needful one. “But you taught me that courage means being scared and acting anyway. Because it’s okay to be afraid, so long as we don’t let it rule us.” Ferret dips her head, her eyes landing on your joined hands. Your thumbs brush over her knuckles comfortingly. “I’m yours, then, huh?” you ask, a chuckle at the end of your words, though it’s still tinged with grief. But you need to make something absolutely clear here before anything else can happen. “Is that what this is? An act of desperation?” Ferret’s eyes narrow so sharply you almost miss it. “That’s not what this is,” she snaps. “You sure about that?” Ferret pulls from you, her breath raking from her. “Are you saying you don’t want this?” “You’re changing the subject.” “No, this is *exactly* the fucking subject,” she clips out. “Do you want this or not?” You huff out your frustration. “Not if it’s not real.” That stops her short, her eyes shifting between yours almost incredulously. You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a steadying breath. When you reach for her hands again, she lets you take them. Her lack of resistance is more telling than anything. “I want you to want this like I do: genuinely. And not borne of fear.” Ferret pulls her lip between her teeth, her anger seeping out of her. “I do,” she says softly. And then she gives you a determined look. “I’ve wanted this for a long, long time.” You glance down to your joined hands, to the way she grips at you just as fiercely now. “I want us to love freely,” you get out roughly. Because in a world where tragedies like Fawn and Bison’s exist, it means all the more that you make this choice freely, that you *love* freely. And you know, under all the fear and anger, that it’s what Ferret truly wants as well. “Can I hold you?” she asks suddenly, the tenderness raw in her voice. You glance back up at her, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “Always,” you tell her. She slips her arms around your neck wordlessly, sighing at your ear when she braces her chest to yours. Your arms link around her waist, hugging her back just as tightly. In this little pocket of the world, somewhere between the trees, between the walls and The City and empty, open sky, somewhere only you and she exist – it feels the most freely you’ve ever loved anything in this life. [align left] > [[❤️ “So, uh, you’ve wanted this for how long, exactly?” you ask playfully. (sex, explicit)->Chapter10_FerretLovev1]] > [[❤️ “So, uh, you’ve wanted this for how long, exactly?” you ask playfully. (sex, fade to black)->Chapter10_FerretLovev2]] > [[❤️ “So, uh, you’ve wanted this for how long, exactly?” you ask playfully.->Chapter10_FerretLovev3]] > [[You grip her tighter to you, your smile blowing wide.->Chapter10_FerretLovev4]]

sound.ambient.love.url: 'Audio/love.mp3' sound.ambient.love.description: 'hopeful joyous music that builds' -- {ambient sound: 'love'} Ferret loosens her arms around you just enough to pull back and meet your eyes, still in your embrace. She raises a brow at you. You can’t help the chuckle that leaves you, reaching up to brush a strand of her dark hair back behind her ear. “I mean, that’s where this was going, right? So, tell me. How long have you wanted me?” She purses her lips at your teasing, her eyes shifting between yours. “Come on, come on.” You smile widely at her. Ferret rolls her eyes, but she keeps her arms around your neck, keeps the two of you connected. “Well, you know...” “Hmm?” She huffs at you, her hands linking behind your head. “Long enough,” she tells you. You laugh, and it feels so natural, so right. “That’s not an answer, Ferret.” “Well, now you’re just fishing for compliments.” “Then appease me,” you say cheekily. That gets a laugh out of her, her face brightening with it. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight. And then she drags you back into her embrace, her cheek pressing to yours, arms winding back around your neck. You fit together seamlessly. She cradles one hand along the nape of your neck, her mouth at your ear when she whispers gently, “For as long as I can remember.” The words warm you instantly, your smile uncontrollable. “And that’s not appeasement, just so you know,” she says confidently. Your eyes slip shut, hugging her desperately. “I know,” you whisper into her hair. “Just like you know I love you.” She nuzzles into your neck at the words, unable to answer for a moment, the enormity of the confession no less for the casualness with which you say it. You hold her tighter. “Of course, you do,” she says finally, that familiar assuredness coloring her voice now. It makes you chuckle. “You’re awfully confident.” She pulls back from you then, giving you a smirk, arms still linked around your neck possessively. “You make it pretty obvious,” she teases. Your hands settle along her hips comfortably. “That so?” She shrugs one noncommittal shoulder. “It’s okay. I kind of like it.” She levels you with a cocky look. “I shouldn’t be the only one in love, after all.” “Perish the thought.” You give her a matching look, though your smile still tugs incessantly at your lips. “Good,” she says. “Now shut up and kiss me.” You get out a single bark of laughter before she tugs you toward her and you meet her mouth with your own, kissing her fervently, needing no further direction. She slips her tongue in effortlessly, and it’s wet and warm and intoxicating. Your hands glide up her sides, and then back down, reveling in the feel of her, gripping tighter along her hips now. Her nails drag along the back of your neck as she arches into you, her soft moan filling your mouth. You want more instantly. You stumble her back with your eagerness, mouths never disentangling, hands roving recklessly now. You tug at the edge of her shirt and that’s all it takes for Ferret to pull away and drag the shirt over her head, unabashed and breathless as she stands bare before you. It leaves you lightheaded, your gaze drifting down to her breasts. She smiles at you, stepping toward you to reach for your own shirt, pulling it up and over your head much the same. She takes the shirts and lays them out over the floor, before taking you by the hand and tugging you down to them. “Come here,” she says, and you follow immediately, settling on your knees before her as she kneels similarly. You’re breathing hard, unable to take your eyes off her. There’s a pretty flush of red creeping up her throat, tinging her dark cheeks as she settles her hands along your shoulders, and then slides them up your neck, cradling your jaw as she licks her lips. Your eyes drift back down to her breasts, her chest heaving slightly with her labored breaths and your hands reach for her hips again instinctively. Ferret smiles at you. “I want you to touch me,” she says confidently. [if gender === 'woman'] {embed passage} It’s not as though you’ve never seen another woman’s breasts before. Aside from your own familiar body, you’ve also had to partially disrobe some patients to heal them. It’s nothing new. It *shouldn’t* be anything new, and yet, you can’t stop staring at her, your hand reaching tentatively toward a breast, squeezing it curiously, your mouth going dry. Ferret’s mouth parts, a breath scraping out, and you glance up at her face to see her eyes half-lidded, fixed to you. You roll a thumb over her nipple, already knowing how sensitive it would be, and another breath escapes her. She slides her hand down from your neck to palm at your own breast similarly and the pressure sends sparks down your spine, making you arch into her touch without even realizing it. Ferret wets her lips at the sight, eyes blazing hungrily now, and she leans toward you, capturing your mouth again. Your tongues tangle heatedly, your hands growing greedy over each other, roving every bit of skin you can find, gripping and stroking, tugging each other closer. Her hands drift to the waistband of your pants and it all flows very naturally from there, the feel of her almost instinctual to your body. Her hands are warm, her palms rough from years of work, her touch needy and impatient, but it makes you smile against her mouth, makes you rock into her with the exact same neediness. You each manage to get your pants off between all the hungry touching and then you’re kneeling over your discarded clothes again, until Ferret presses a hand to your shoulder and pushes you back, settling over your lap with her legs straddling your thighs, the heat of her hovering just above your own wet center. She grips at one of your shoulders while her other hand trails down, ghosting over your thigh, and you shudder at the touch, mouth parting on a heady gasp. She keeps her eyes fixed to yours when her fingers reach further, dipping into your heat, gliding easily over the wetness there. You pant against her mouth, muscles clenching at the way she curls her fingers up into you. Her impatience is contagious apparently, because you reach for her similarly, watching in fascination as she spreads her legs wider over your lap to give you better access. You moan at the wetness you find there, lips seeking hers, kissing her deliriously as she pumps her fingers into you. She rolls her hips along your hand, grinding into your touch, and you throw your head back, sweat beading along your brow. “I want to be closer,” she groans into your neck, leaning in to nip at the skin there. A rush of heat floods you, and your body moves on instinct, your hand slipping from her heat to grip at her thigh instead, tugging it up so you can maneuver beneath her. “{name},” she pants, almost whines, but she’s pliant in your arms now, adjusting as you settle her back off your lap, one of your legs coming up over hers so your hips are at an angle now when they press back into hers, your centers connecting in a delicious, wet friction. Ferret gasps at the new sensation, her hips rolling into yours instantly, her arms going back to brace along the floor and steady her. You arch similarly to her, your fingers digging into the ground as you push your hips into hers over and over, sliding together in a building, slick heat. She looks so glorious like this, dark hair plastered to her forehead and neck with sweat, eyes squeezed shut with her head thrown back as she chases that feeling, a look of ecstasy on her normally sharpened features. It’s this image of her – free and uninhibited and unashamed – as she pushes into you, again and again, panting raggedly, moaning your name into the dark, secret spaces of the orchard; it’s this image of her, braced so intimately and vulnerably to you, that has you shattering against her, a long, keening moan breaking from your lips, your hips stuttering against hers, your stomach clenching at the sensation, the breath winded from you. She whines at the friction, still rolling into you desperately and you push yourself up a bit, one hand still bearing up your weight as your other reaches for her thigh, drags her more roughly against you, mind still fuzzy from your recent peak. Then your touch meets her center, your thumb brushing against her wet, swollen nub and she cries out, seizing against you, shuddering violently, arms giving way as she falls back against the floor. After taking a moment to gather your breath, you unwind your sore legs from hers, turning to lay alongside her instead, watching affectionately as she throws an arm over her eyes, turning her face slightly from you as she pants out her exhaustion. You smile down at her, nuzzling into her sweat-lined neck with a contented hum. “You good?” [if gender === 'man'] {embed passage} It’s not as though you’ve never seen a woman’s breasts before. Aside from your experience in the chamber, you’ve also had to partially disrobe some patients to heal them. It’s nothing new. It *shouldn’t* be anything new, and yet, you can’t stop staring at her, your hand reaching tentatively toward a breast, squeezing it curiously, your mouth going dry. Ferret’s mouth parts, a breath scraping out, and you glance up at her face to see her eyes half-lidded, fixed to you. You roll a thumb over her nipple tentatively and another breath escapes her. She slides her hand down from your neck to scrape her nails along your chest and the sensation sends sparks down your spine, making you arch into her touch without even realizing it. Ferret wets her lips at the sight, eyes blazing hungrily now, and she leans toward you, capturing your mouth again. Your tongues tangle heatedly, your hands growing greedy over each other, roving every bit of skin you can find, gripping and stroking, tugging each other closer. Her hands drift to the waistband of your pants and it all flows very naturally from there, the feel of her almost instinctual to your body. Her hands are warm, her palms rough from years of work, her touch needy and impatient, but it makes you smile against her mouth, makes you rock into her with the exact same neediness. You each manage to get your pants off between all the hungry touching and then you’re kneeling over your discarded clothes again, until Ferret presses a hand to your shoulder and pushes you back, settling over your lap with her legs straddling your thighs, the heat of her hovering just over your hard length. She grips at one of your shoulders while her other hand trails down, ghosting over your thigh, and you shudder at the touch, mouth parting on a hiss. She keeps her eyes fixed to yours when her fingers reach further, curling around the length of you, throbbing in her hand. You pant against her mouth, muscles clenching at the way she caresses you. Her impatience is contagious apparently, because you reach for her center as well, watching in fascination as she spreads her legs wider over your lap to give you better access, your fingers curling up into her heat. You moan at the wetness you find there, lips seeking hers, kissing her deliriously as she pumps you more confidently now. She rolls her hips along your hand, grinding into your touch, and you throw your head back, sweat beading along your brow. “I want to be closer,” she groans into your neck, leaning in to nip at the skin there. A rush of heat floods you, and your body moves on instinct, your hand slipping from her heat to grip at her thigh instead, positioning her over you, the tip of your length brushing at her folds. “{name},” she pants, almost whines, but she’s pliant in your arms now, her touch slipping from your hardness as you slowly press into her, eyes roving her face for any signal to stop. She gives you none though, instead, sinking her hips down even further, taking you into her in an excruciatingly slow roll of her hips. She gasps at the sensation of you filling her, her hips stilling momentarily, and you grit your teeth, using all your willpower not to thrust up into her, full and deep. After a moment, she gives your shoulder a squeeze in assurance, and you find your rhythm easily—slow and first, before growing more frantic, more heated. You brace a hand back along the ground for better leverage, watching as she rides you, your hips pumping up furiously, a tightness growing in your gut, thighs clenching beneath her. “{name},” she pants out, eyes fluttering shut, a groan leaving her with each meeting of your hips. “I don’t... I don’t want you to...” You don’t need her to say more. You already know how recently she lost her child. You would not do so to her again. You push up from your lean, arms winding around her waist, keeping your chests braced together, your embrace suddenly intimate between anything you’ve ever shared with another. “I know,” you tell her gently, pressing a messy, reassuring kiss to her lips. She looks so glorious like this, dark hair plastered to her forehead and neck with sweat, eyes squeezed shut with her head thrown back as she chases that feeling, a look of ecstasy on her normally sharpened features. It’s this image of her – free and uninhibited and unashamed – as she pushes into you, again and again, panting raggedly, moaning your name into the dark, secret spaces of the orchard; it’s this image of her, braced so intimately and vulnerably to you, that has you almost shattering against her. Quickly, you reach a hand between your bodies, rubbing frantically at her wet, swollen nub and she cries out almost instantly, seizing against you, shuddering violently, her arms crushing you to her chest as she whines and moans at your ear. It rushes from you then, and you grab her hips hard enough to bruise, dragging her up off the length of you just before you spill over her stomach, a long, keening moan breaking from your lips, your hips stuttering underneath hers, your stomach clenching at the sensation, the breath winded from you. She falls back into your lap when your arms grow weak, and you hiss at the tenderness, your hips jerking beneath hers. After taking a moment to gather your breath, you slowly lay her down, disentangling from her to lay alongside her instead, watching affectionately as she throws an arm over her eyes, turning her face slightly from you as she pants out her exhaustion. You smile down at her, nuzzling into her sweat-lined neck with a contented hum. “You good?” [if gender === 'worker'] {embed passage} It’s not as though you’ve never seen another woman’s breasts before; you’ve had to partially disrobe some patients to heal them. It’s nothing new. It *shouldn’t* be anything new, and yet, you can’t stop staring at her, your hand reaching tentatively toward a breast, squeezing it curiously, your mouth going dry. Ferret’s mouth parts, a breath scraping out, and you glance up at her face to see her eyes half-lidded, fixed to you. You roll a thumb over her nipple and another breath escapes her. She slides her hand down from your neck to scrape her nails along your chest and the sensation sends sparks down your spine, making you arch into her touch without even realizing it. Ferret wets her lips at the sight, eyes blazing hungrily now, and she leans toward you, capturing your mouth again. Your tongues tangle heatedly, your hands growing greedy over each other, roving every bit of skin you can find, gripping and stroking, tugging each other closer. Her hands drift to the waistband of your pants and it all flows very naturally from there, the feel of her almost instinctual to your body. Her hands are warm, her palms rough from years of work, her touch needy and impatient, but it makes you smile against her mouth, makes you rock into her with the exact same neediness. You each manage to get your pants off between all the hungry touching and then you’re kneeling over your discarded clothes again, until Ferret presses a hand to your shoulder and pushes you back, her legs straddling your thighs, the heat of her hovering just above your lap. She grips at one of your shoulders while her other hand trails down, ghosting over your thigh, and you shudder at the touch, mouth parting on a heady gasp. She keeps her eyes fixed to yours when her fingers reach further, down between your legs, stroking you. You pant against her mouth, muscles clenching at the way she curls her fingers. Her impatience is contagious apparently, because you reach for her as well, watching in fascination as she spreads her legs wider over your lap to give you better access. You moan at the wetness you find there, lips seeking hers, kissing her deliriously as the friction builds. She rolls her hips along your hand, grinding into your touch, and you throw your head back, sweat beading along your brow. “I want to be closer,” she groans into your neck, leaning in to nip at the skin there. A rush of heat floods you, and your body moves on instinct, your hand slipping from her heat to grip at her thigh instead, tugging it up so you can maneuver beneath her. “{name},” she pants, almost whines, but she’s pliant in your arms now, adjusting as you settle her back off your lap, one of your legs coming up over hers so your hips are at an angle now when they press back into hers, your bodies connecting in a delicious, wet friction. Ferret gasps at the new sensation, her hips rolling into yours instantly, her arms going back to brace along the floor and steady her. You arch similarly to her, your fingers digging into the ground as you push your hips into hers over and over. She looks so glorious like this, dark hair plastered to her forehead and neck with sweat, eyes squeezed shut with her head thrown back as she chases that feeling, a look of ecstasy on her normally sharpened features. It’s this image of her – free and uninhibited and unashamed – as she pushes into you, again and again, panting raggedly, moaning your name into the dark, secret spaces of the orchard; it’s this image of her, braced so intimately and vulnerably to you, that has you shattering against her, a long, keening moan breaking from your lips, your hips stuttering against hers, your stomach clenching at the sensation, the breath winded from you. She whines at the friction, still rolling into you desperately and you push yourself up a bit, one hand still bearing up your weight as your other reaches for her thigh, drags her more roughly against you, mind still fuzzy from your recent peak. Then your touch meets her center, your thumb brushing against her wet, swollen nub and she cries out, seizing against you, shuddering violently, arms giving way as she falls back against the floor. After taking a moment to gather your breath, you unwind your sore legs from hers, turning to lay alongside her instead, watching affectionately as she throws an arm over her eyes, turning her face slightly from you as she pants out her exhaustion. You smile down at her, nuzzling into her sweat-lined neck with a contented hum. “You good?” [continue] You can see her throat flex with the heaviness of her swallow, her arm still thrown over her face. You blink down at her, one hand settling over her stomach as you lay against her. “Ferret?” “It’s not–“ Her voice breaks and she swallows again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It’s not that I was always angry,” she says. Your brows furrow together, confused. She lowers her arm finally, turning to you, revealing the wetness dotting her eyes. “It’s that I was lonely,” she croaks out. The look on her face stops you, your eyes roving her pinched features, a tenderness flooding you. And then she smiles. She *smiles*. And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Her hands reach for your face, cradling your cheeks affectionately. “But I’m not lonely anymore,” she tells you sincerely, her voice firmer now. Your mouth parts, words failing you. “*You* make me not lonely anymore,” she says softly, pushing up to meet your mouth with a steady, lingering kiss, close-mouthed and ardent. It stills your heart in your chest. It takes only a moment for you to collect yourself, to wrap your arms around her lithe form and drag her into your embrace, your cheek pressed to hers, your smiles echoing each other’s. “I love you,” you tell her, and you’ve never said truer words. Her arms tighten around you. “I love you, too,” she whispers at your ear. You understand then, why she dragged you here. Here, of all places. Because from the thick cover of trees, everything else is obscured. The wall, the nursery, the clinic, every suffocating building in this place, even the ever-burning pits. Here, there is no city. But you never needed such a place to escape. You only ever needed her. In Ferret’s embrace, The City ceases to exist. It becomes only her, and only you, and only each other. In Ferret’s embrace, the promise of freedom finally becomes real. [[Begin Chapter 11->Journal267]]

Ferret loosens her arms around you just enough to pull back and meet your eyes, still in your embrace. She raises a brow at you. You can’t help the chuckle that leaves you, reaching up to brush a strand of her dark hair back behind her ear. “I mean, that’s where this was going right? So, tell me. How long have you wanted me?” She purses her lips at your teasing, her eyes shifting between yours. “Come on, come on.” You smile widely at her. Ferret rolls her eyes, but she keeps her arms around your neck, keeps the two of you connected. “Well, you know...” “Hmm?” She huffs at you, her hands linking behind your head. “Long enough,” she tells you. You laugh, and it feels so natural, so right. “That’s not an answer, Ferret.” “Well, now you’re just fishing for compliments.” “Then appease me,” you say cheekily. That gets a laugh out of her, her face brightening with it. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight. And then she drags you back into her embrace, her cheek pressing to yours, arms winding back around your neck. You fit together seamlessly. She cradles one hand along the nape of your neck, her mouth at your ear when she whispers gently, “For as long as I can remember.” The words warm you instantly, your smile uncontrollable. “And that’s not appeasement, just so you know,” she says confidently. Your eyes slip shut, hugging her desperately. “I know,” you whisper into her hair. “Just like you know I love you.” She nuzzles into your neck at the words, unable to answer for a moment, the enormity of the confession no less for the casualness with which you say it. You hold her tighter. “Of course, you do,” she says finally, that familiar assuredness coloring her voice now. It makes you chuckle. “You’re awfully confident.” She pulls back from you then, giving you a smirk, arms still linked around your neck possessively. “You make it pretty obvious,” she teases. Your hands settle along her hips comfortably. “That so?” She shrugs one noncommittal shoulder. “It’s okay. I kind of like it.” She levels you with a cocky look. “I shouldn’t be the only one in love, after all.” “Perish the thought.” You give her a matching look, though your smile still tugs incessantly at your lips. “Good,” she says. “Now shut up and kiss me.” You get out a single bark of laughter before she tugs you toward her and you meet her mouth with your own, kissing her fervently, needing no further direction. It ebbs into a slow, languid kiss, your foreheads pressing together when you break apart. She peers at you hesitantly, lip caught between her teeth. You smile at her, before nuzzling into her neck with a contented hum. “You good?” You can see her throat flex with the heaviness of her swallow, her silence still blanketing the air. You pull back, blinking at her, a gentle squeeze along her hip in reassurance. “Ferret?” “It’s not–“ Her voice breaks and she swallows again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It’s not that I was always angry, you know.” Your brows furrow together, confused. Suddenly, wetness dots her eyes. “It’s that I was lonely,” she croaks out. The look on her face stops you, your eyes roving her pinched features, a tenderness flooding you. And then she smiles. She *smiles*. And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Her hands reach for your face, cradling your cheeks affectionately. “But I’m not lonely anymore,” she tells you sincerely, her voice firmer now. Your mouth parts, words failing you. “*You* make me not lonely anymore,” she says softly, pushing forward to meet your mouth with a steady, lingering kiss, close-mouthed and ardent. It stills your heart in your chest. It takes only a moment for you to collect yourself, to wrap your arms around her lithe form and drag her into your embrace, your cheek pressed to hers, your smiles echoing each other’s. “I love you,” you tell her, and you’ve never said truer words. Her arms tighten around you. “I love you, too,” she whispers at your ear. You understand then, why she dragged you here. Here, of all places. Because from the thick cover of trees, everything else is obscured. The wall, the nursery, the clinic, every suffocating building in this place, even the ever-burning pits. Here, there is no city. But you never needed such a place to escape. You only ever needed her. In Ferret’s embrace, The City ceases to exist. It becomes only her, and only you, and only each other. In Ferret’s embrace, the promise of freedom finally becomes real. [[Begin Chapter 11->Journal267]]

You smile into her neck with a contented hum. “You good?” You can see her throat flex with the heaviness of her swallow, but she keeps her arms wrapped securely around you. You blink down at her, one hand settling comfortingly over her hip. “Ferret?” “It’s not–“ Her voice breaks and she swallows again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It’s not that I was always angry, you know.” Your brows furrow together, confused. She loosens her arms finally, pulling back to face you fully, revealing the wetness dotting her eyes. “It’s that I was lonely,” she croaks out. The look on her face stops you, your eyes roving her pinched features, a tenderness flooding you. And then she smiles. She *smiles*. And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Her hands reach for your face, cradling your cheeks affectionately. “But I’m not lonely anymore,” she tells you sincerely, her voice firmer now. Your mouth parts, words failing you. “*You* make me not lonely anymore,” she says softly, her thumb stroking your cheek. It stills your heart in your chest. It takes only a moment for you to collect yourself, to wrap your arms around her lithe form and drag her into your embrace, your cheek pressed to hers, your smiles echoing each other’s. “I love you,” you tell her, and you’ve never said truer words. Her arms tighten around you. “I love you, too,” she whispers at your ear. You understand then, why she dragged you here. Here, of all places. Because from the thick cover of trees, everything else is obscured. The wall, the nursery, the clinic, every suffocating building in this place, even the ever-burning pits. Here, there is no city. But you never needed such a place to escape. You only ever needed her. In Ferret’s embrace, The City ceases to exist. It becomes only her, and only you, and only each other. In Ferret’s embrace, the promise of freedom finally becomes real. [[Begin Chapter 11->Journal267]]

The guard gulps and his brow furrows. You can see him considering your words, the fear in his eyes still present, but wavering. [if hasFather] “I need your help, father.” You reach forward and grip his arm. “I can’t keep silent, I can’t continue like this. It will kill me as surely as any lesson from the guard. But it’d be dangerous and foolish for me to act without knowing the full truth. I can’t protect myself if I don’t understand everything. For that, I need your help.” [else] “I need your help, G-72.” You reach forward and grip his arm. “I can’t keep silent, I can’t continue like this. It will kill me as surely as any lesson from the guard. But it’d be dangerous and foolish for me to act without knowing the full truth. I can’t protect myself if I don’t understand everything. For that, I need your help.” [continue] He sighs and looks off toward the wall. “I should be the one protecting you.” “So, do it now. Help me.” He huffs out a breath, sharp and final like a twig breaking, then turns back to you with a firm nod. “I’ll come to your room in the evening, when everyone else is at the meal. We can speak then.” You squeeze his arm before letting go… [[…then you scurry back up to your room before the other healers wake.->Chapter11_03]]

“Not questioning, not acting, is dangerous,” you press him. “Destroying books, burning our past, stealing children from their parents, allowing this to continue day after day after day... This,” you gesture between your two bodies, “is brave. This is good and right and *necessary*.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_02'}

“Every move I make, every word I speak, every *thought* I have, is dangerous. I don’t want that life anymore,” you press him. “If this conversation is dangerous, then so be it. I can accept that, because it is *my* choice. This danger is the freest I will ever be.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_02'}

“Of course I’m scared,” you press him. “I’m scared of losing more people whom I love. Scared of the chamber, the lessons, scared that for the rest of my life all I will ever know is this." You gesture at the barren landscape and the distant wall. “But if I don’t face that fear, I will never be rid of it.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_02'}

Ferret raises her chin stubbornly. “If it means saving any of you, then yes, absolutely.” “We may not have a choice,” Lion says, his voice guarded. “It may be unavoidable.” “Have you ever killed anyone before?” Heron asks pointedly. “I have.” Robin’s voice is low, unassuming, yet everyone instantly hushes when they speak. “It’s terrifyingly easy to take a life when you tell yourself you have no choice. The difficult part is living with yourself afterwards. It stays with you—every waking moment of your day and every fitful dream.” Their eyes grow clouded as they speak, before sharpening in a hard glint. “Think hard on whether you can live with that.” [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You reach out and touch Robin’s arm gently. They clasp their hand over yours and breathe in, taking strength from your closeness. Ferret’s eyes widen, then she frowns. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice remorseful. Robin offers her a half-smile. “It’s alright, and I know you’ll do what you have to. I just wish I could spare you that.” [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] Ferret’s eyes widen, then she frowns. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice remorseful. Robin offers her a half-smile. “It’s alright, and I know you’ll do what you have to. I just wish I could spare you that.” [if loveInterest === 'builder'] Ferret reaches out and touches their shoulder, her expression remorseful, her movements more hesitant than they were a moment ago. “I’m sorry.” Robin clasps their hand over hers, turning their body slightly toward the sweeper’s. “It’s alright, and I know you’ll do what you have to.” They offer her a half-smile, tender and ardent. “I just wish I could spare you that.” Ferret returns the smile. The two stay like that for a moment before Heron coughs gently. Ferret shakes her head and stands, and you can see a faint blush peeking beneath the ash on Robin’s cheeks. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] Ferret reaches out and touches their shoulder, her expression remorseful, her movements more hesitant than they were a moment ago. “I’m sorry.” Robin clasps their hand over hers, turning their body slightly toward the sweeper’s. “It’s alright, and I know you’ll do what you have to.” They offer her a half-smile, tender and ardent. “I just wish I could spare you that.” Ferret returns the smile. The two stay like that for a moment before Heron coughs gently. Ferret shakes her head and stands, and you can see a faint blush peeking beneath the ash on Robin’s cheeks. [if loveInterest === 'none'] Ferret reaches out and touches their shoulder, her expression remorseful, her movements more hesitant than they were a moment ago. “I’m sorry.” Robin clasps their hand over hers, turning their body slightly toward the sweeper’s. “It’s alright, and I know you’ll do what you have to.” They offer her a half-smile, tender and ardent. “I just wish I could spare you that.” Ferret returns the smile. The two stay like that for a moment before Heron coughs gently. Ferret shakes her head and stands, and you can see a faint blush peeking beneath the ash on Robin’s cheeks. [continue] “I am sorry you carry that, Robin,” Lion says softly. He swallows tightly, his expression strained. “What you were forced to do is cruel. That is a weight no one should be made to carry.” Robin’s eye widen, no doubt remembering, as you do, the significance of that lesson. “Lion…” “I do not hold you responsible, my friend, have no fear. You were as much a victim as the digger that night. The ones that were truly responsible for his death will be held accountable.” The rigid line of his shoulders bends and his dark eyes soften. “Though we will remember your warning. Killing will be a last resort, I promise.” “Thank you, but that’s not the only thing I worry about.” Robin sighs and opens the book in their lap, thumbing through the pages. “I worry about what comes after. We don’t know the first thing about governing a city this size. What if we make the same mistakes these people did?” “We won’t,” Ferret assures them quickly. “We’re trying to make things better.” “So were they,” Robin asserts, glancing up at her from beneath their curls. “They had good intentions, too. Can you promise, truly *promise*, that we won’t do the same?” Ferret purses her lips and looks away. “We cannot,” Lion begrudgingly admits. “We cannot say what will happen in the future. All we can do is try to make the right decision here and now.” “But I don’t think it’s right for us to decide for them. The other workers aren’t like us, they haven’t learned what we have. Maybe we could leave behind the knowledge, somehow…” They shake their head and close the journal. “I think this decision needs to be about us, and what’s best for us. And this city isn’t it. I agree with Heron, I think we should leave.” “I cannot say I am not tempted to see the world beyond the wall,” Lion muses, “but I do not like the idea of leaving these people behind. Ferret, what about your child?” Ferret squares her shoulders, letting out a gradual breath before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about that. I admit, I would like to find them. But who’s to say I will, even if we do stay? I’d like to think I’d recognize them, that I’d know my own child on sight,” she shakes her head, “but I don’t know.” She looks pointedly at Lion. “And I may not be the only one of us with a child out there. It’s not fair to ask you all to make this decision for my sake. I *won’t* ask that. “I used to think what I wanted was the child, and in a better world, maybe they would have been enough.” The corner of her lip quirks up. “But while I was looking for a family, a family went and found me.” Her gaze shifts about the room, regarding each of you in turn. “This is the family I will defend,” she nods at Heron, “or flee with. This is the family I choose. And if it means leaving my child behind, I can be at peace with that. Because I found what I’ve been searching for.” You offer her an encouraging smile and she awkwardly returns it. Then she pushes her hair behind her ear and kicks at the floor. “My vote is to stay, but I'll support whatever decision we make.” “Agreed,” Lion affirms, pushing from his lean on the wall. “I still want to leave, but I’m not doing it without you all,” Heron smirks at the group. “Same,” Robin chirps, clambering to their feet. Two votes to stay. Two to leave. The final decision is yours. You close your eyes, your foot tapping absently upon the floor as you weigh the decision. Lion is right—both options are inherently dangerous, with no guarantee of success either way. There are benefits to each plan, as well as consequences. You open your eyes, your posture steeled, your voice resolved. [align left] > [[“I vote we stay and fight.”->Chapter11_Stay]] > [[“I vote we escape.”->Chapter11_Escape]]

Heron lets out his breath on a sigh and exchanges a look with Robin. Then he turns back to you and nods. “Right then. So, how are we doing this?” “I still stand by my idea,” says Ferret. “We steal the guard’s weapons and toss them in the pits.” “We could try speaking with the other workers,” Robin pipes up. “We can visit the barracks in the middle of the night, when they’re all together. Maybe if we have enough people supporting us, it’ll help prevent violence.” “I suggest burning down the shed hiding the water,” Lion offers. You frown, remembering the small wooden structure. “If we burn it down we’ll damage the pulley system.” “I am certain I can rebuild it, or something similar,” he assures you. “I believe it is more important that we bring these secrets to light. The people need to see the truth.” “Maybe we split up, do all three?” you muse, tapping your finger against your lips. “Half of us can go to the barracks to speak to the other workers, while the other half handle the weapons. While at the pits we’ll grab the torches, then come back and set the water shed on fire.” The others nod in agreement as the semblance of a plan takes shape. “We should find a way to separate the three leaders from the rest of the guard,” Ferret notes. “I know you don’t like the idea of killing but,” her voice steels, “if anyone deserves it, those three do.” “We do not necessarily have to kill them,” Lion muses. “We can subdue them or lock them up, perhaps. Can we draw them out somehow?” he asks, the question directed at you. [if hasFather] “I wonder if my father can help with that,” you muse. You stretch your arms above your head, relieving the tension that had been building all night. “I should probably tell him what we’ve decided.” [else] “I wonder if G-72 can help with that,” you muse. You stretch your arms above your head, relieving the tension that had been building all night. “I should probably tell him what we’ve decided.” [continue] “Is the guard joining us?” Ferret asks, giving you a side eye. “I’m not sure what he wants to do,” you reply. “But if everyone is okay with it, I’d like to include him. I’ll speak to him in the morning, and bring him to the circle tomorrow night.” “I’m okay with it,” Heron pipes up. “I want to meet daddy guard.” You roll your eyes and Ferret groans as she does the same. “Please do not call him that.” “He’s gonna need a name,” Heron smirks. “We are not naming the guard.” Ferret growls the words, her hands on her hips. You hide a smile at their exchange and start making your way up the stairwell. “Everyone get some sleep. It sounds like we have a long night ahead of us tomorrow.” Back above ground you’ve barely taken a step away from the circle when a hushed voice stops you. “{name}, wait.” [[Next->Chapter11_12]]

Lion lets out his breath on a sigh and exchanges a look with Ferret. Then he turns back to you and nods. “Very well. What is the plan?” “I like Heron’s idea,” says Robin. “We can get bags, clothes, and blankets from the workshop. Might be wise to grab needle and thread, too.” They tick each item off on their fingers. “Food and seeds from the feeding station, and {name} has all the medicine.” “There are also flasks at the station we can fill with water,” Heron offers. “It would be wise to grab tools from one of the building sites, as well,” Lion adds. “A shovel, hammer, chisel, and rope would be useful.” “We’ll need to split up to gather everything in one night,” you muse, tapping your finger against your lips. “When we get the water we’ll take note of the direction the cavern leads in, and that’s the way we’ll go.” The others nod in agreement as the semblance of a plan takes shape. “You know, maybe we can leave hints for the other workers to follow?” Heron chews his lower lip, his eyes skirting about the room. “Maybe leave a trail of books? Burn down the water shed? Something to help them learn the truth.” “That’s a great idea!” Robin sits up straighter. “Oh, but a fire may alert the guard.” “I hate the idea of leaving those three guard in charge, honestly,” Ferret grumbles. “This city would have a better chance if they weren’t here. I know you don’t like the idea of killing but,” her voice steels, “if anyone deserves it, those three do.” “We do not necessarily have to kill them,” Lion muses. “We can subdue them or lock them up, perhaps, long enough for us to leave clues for those left behind and to make our escape. Can we separate those guard from the rest?” he asks, the question directed at you. “Draw them out?” [if hasFather] “My father may be able to help with that,” you muse. You stretch your arms above your head, relieving the tension that had been building all night. “I should probably tell him what we’ve decided.” [else] “G-72 may be able to help with that,” you muse. You stretch your arms above your head, relieving the tension that had been building all night. “I should probably tell him what we’ve decided.” [continue] “Is the guard joining us?” Ferret asks, giving you a side eye. “I’m not sure what he wants to do,” you reply. “But if everyone is okay with it, I’d like to include him. I’ll speak to him in the morning, and bring him to the circle tomorrow night.” “I’m okay with it,” Heron pipes up. “I want to meet daddy guard.” You roll your eyes and Ferret groans as she does the same. “Please do not call him that.” “He’s gonna need a name,” Heron smirks. “We are not naming the guard.” Ferret growls the words, her hands on her hips. You hide a smile at their exchange and start making your way up the stairwell. “Everyone get some sleep. It sounds like we have a long night ahead of us tomorrow.” Back above ground you’ve barely taken a step away from the circle when a hushed voice stops you. “{name}, wait.” [[Next->Chapter11_18]]

[if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Lion'} [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Heron'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Ferret'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Robin'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_None'}

[if loveInterest === 'builder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_Lion'} [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_Heron'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_Ferret'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_Robin'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_None'}

You stop when you see Lion approaching. “May I walk you back?” he asks. “There is something I would like to discuss with you.” “What is it?” You resume walking and he falls into step beside you. “I would like to be present when you speak to G-72 tomorrow morning,” he says slowly, his voice carefully measured. “It is not that I do not trust him, nor that I doubt you, but it would set my mind at ease to be there with you.” “I don’t believe he’d hurt me, Lion,” you assure him, touching his hand, “if that’s what you’re worried about.” “It is partly that, but I also wish to be at your side.” He steps in front of you, halting you, and levels his eyes on yours. “I know you are still sorting out your feelings for this guard. Let me help you. You do not always have to be the strong one, you know.” “I thought that was your job,” you tease, poking a finger at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He covers your hand with his, keeping it locked against him. His expression is stern, but his eyes are a soft brown when he regards you. “I am serious, {name}. You comforted me in my despair, you rallied us when we were lost. Let me be there with you, as you have always been for me.” You see yourself reflected in the sheen of his eyes—your mouth open in surprise, your eyes wide and appreciative. You smile and look away, your cheeks flushing at the ardency of his words. “I think you give me too much credit. But yes, of course you can be there. I’d like you there.” [align left] > [[❤️ You bring a hand to his face, cupping his cheek, and he lowers his mouth to yours.->Chapter11_Stay_Lionv2]] > [[You snake your arms around his neck and nuzzle close, breathing in the scent of him.->Chapter11_Stay_Lionv1]]

Heron strolls up beside you, his hands casually tucked inside his pockets. “Mind if I walk you back?” “You never have to ask, Heron,” you reply with a smile. The two of you continue your walk together. “So, I may have been teasing when I called G-72 ‘daddy guard’,” Heron says, an unusually serious pitch to his voice. “But in all honesty, I want to meet him.” He levels his pale blue eyes on yours. “I’d like to be there in the morning when you speak to him, if that’s alright.” You tilt your head and ask, “As support or protection?” “Both?” He grins lopsidedly at you. “I know you’ve spoken to him several times alone already, but I’d feel better if I were there.” His grin narrows into a smirk, his eyes flashing suggestively. “Plus, you know, I have a duty to speak to him. If he really is your father-” [if hasFather] “He is.” [else] “He’s not.” [continue] “…then I need to ask his permission to woo you or something, right?” [align left] > [[❤️ “Woo me?” you snort, biting back a laugh. “Someone’s been reading too many romance novels.” You trail your fingers up his arm. “Besides, I think we’ve moved firmly past wooing, haven’t we?”->Chapter11_Stay_Heronv1]] > [[“Woo me?” you snort, biting back a laugh. “Someone’s been reading too many romance novels.”->Chapter11_Stay_Heronv2]]

You look back just in time to find Ferret catching up with you, her hand slipping into yours. She gives it a squeeze and you continue your trek back to the clinic in contentment. After a while, she clears her throat. “I’m coming with you, you know.” You glance down at your joined hands and give her a teasing smirk. “Yes, I see that.” “I mean tomorrow,” she clarifies, giving you an annoyed look. You smile affectionately at her. “Tomorrow?” “Yeah. You know, when you talk to... that guy.” She purses her lips in distaste. [if hasFather] Amusement colors your voice. “That guy? You mean my father?” [else] Amusement colors your voice. “That guy? You mean G-72?” [continue] She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Him.” You chuckle at her reluctance to even address the man properly, though you can’t really blame her. “If you can’t even say his name, how do you expect to talk to him?” “Who says I have to talk to him?” “Well, I hope you’re not accompanying me just to get a few punches in.” She stops you, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “This is important to you, right? This... relationship you’re building with him, whether he’s your father or not. It’s important to you?” You nod in answer, the teasing smirk slipping from your lips at her sudden seriousness. She lifts her chin, eyes determined. “Then that’s why I’m going with you. Because what’s important to you is important to me.” Your smile slowly returns. “Simple as that?” “Simple as that.” “Well, alright then,” you say. She gives you a triumphant look, as though she has won some great battle with this conversation. [align left] > [[❤️ You tug her toward you and press a kiss to her neck.->Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv1]] > [[You tug her toward you and clasp her in your arms.->Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv2]]

You stop when you see Lion approaching. “May I walk you back?” he asks. “There is something I would like to discuss with you.” “What is it?” You resume walking and he falls into step beside you. “I would like to be present when you speak to G-72 tomorrow morning,” he says slowly, his voice carefully measured. “It is not that I do not trust him, nor that I doubt you, but it would set my mind at ease to be there with you.” “I don’t believe he’d hurt me, Lion,” you assure him, “if that’s what you’re worried about.” “It is partly that, but I also wish to be at your side.” He steps in front of you, halting you, and levels his eyes on yours. “I know you are still sorting out your feelings for this guard. Let me help you, my friend." His expression is stern, but his eyes are a soft brown when he regards you. “You comforted me in my despair, you rallied us when we were lost. Let me be there for you, as you have been for me.” You see yourself reflected in the sheen of his eyes—your mouth open in surprise, your eyes wide and appreciative. "Thank you, Lion. I would appreciate that.” He smiles in return, then walks you back to the clinic before bidding you goodnight. [[Next->Chapter11_Stay_Nonev1]]

Robin comes up beside you, their hand finding yours. “Mind if I walk you back?” “Not at all,” you reply. You start to smile at them, but pause, your lips tilting downward as you study their face. Their brow is creased and their thin lips drawn in a tight line. “Is something wrong?” you venture. “Hmm?” Robin blinks at you, their brow relaxing, as if waking from their thoughts. “No, nothing is wrong. Why do you ask?” “You look… stern. More serious than usual.” “Oh. Well…” They pull you to a stop and reach forward, taking your free hand in theirs so you stand with both hands clasped in front of you. “It *is* serious, I suppose, but hopefully not in a bad way.” They take a deep breath then let it out slowly. “All this talk tonight, the planning, the decisions we’re making… it’s helped me make another important decision.” You can hear the barest of trembles in their voice, and their hands tighten around yours. “The decision to be with you.” The words come out short, a little louder, perhaps, than Robin intended, and they swallow down the tremor before speaking again. “I would like to… be intimate… with you. Tonight. If-if that is something you want?” Their eyes dart back and forth between your clasped hands and your face, their expression resolved, but no less wary. Their shoulders are a tense line, their knees straight and stiff, the knot in their throat bobbing as they swallow. You spread your arms to your side, bringing their hands out toward their hips, then step forward into the space, your chest grazing theirs. They blink rapidly before their eyes settle on yours. “We don’t have to do this, dearest. If it makes you uncomfortable-” “No, I…” They swallow and release a shuddering breath, the wariness slipping from their form as their shoulders relax. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, {name}. Nervous, maybe. In a good way. But never uncomfortable.” You touch your forehead to theirs and they release a pleased hum as they lean in, their nose brushing yours. “I know how awful the chamber was for you,” you soothe, “and I don’t want you to relive that pain. You have nothing to prove to me.” “I know, I’ve been thinking about this for some time, truly.” They close their eyes and inhale, breathing in the air at your lips, the warmth between you. “I only have that one memory of the chamber, and I want it gone. I want something I can hold onto in the coming days. Of course, I’m scared. Not of you, never of you. I’m scared of living with this fear for the rest of my life. Of it keeping me from loving you.” You suck in your breath and pull back. Robin opens their eyes and you are lost in the myriad of colors in their irises. “I love you, {name}. You make me feel like I’m enough, like I don’t have to be anything other than myself. I trust you and I love you.” They pull your arms behind their back, your hands still clasped in theirs, locking themself in your embrace. “I have never had any choice in my life, no decision that was mine. Except this. I choose you, {name}. I choose *us*.” [align left] > [[❤️ Your heart thumps in your chest; you want this as much as they do. (sex, explicit)->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv1]] > [[❤️ Your heart thumps in your chest; you want this as much as they do. (sex, fade to black)->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv2]] > [[❤️ You share their feelings, but while they may be ready for such intimacy, you are not.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv3]] > [[You share their feelings, but you don’t want that level of intimacy.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv4]]

He chuckles low, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Never. I will never stop wooing you. You deserve all the woos.” He places his hands at your waist and turns you toward him, then he leans in, his chest pressed to yours, his voice husky. “And you can’t blame me for wanting to kiss you every time I’m around you.” “Is that right?” you drawl, lifting your face and touching your nose to his. You walk the fingers of one hand over his shoulder, up along his collar bone, and he shivers. You bring your lips to his, your hand stilling against his neck. The kiss starts slow, sweet, your mouth caressing his. His hands slide down to your hips, then back up along the curve of your spine. You press forward, pushing him back against the wall of the nearest building. He grunts when he falls against it and you take advantage of his open lips to push your tongue into his mouth. He moans and pulls you against him, his hands hungrily roving over your bottom, his mouth slanting over yours. You pull apart to catch your breath and he leans his forehead against yours. “{name}, what you do to me… I can’t think straight around you.” “Your fault for being so good at wooing.” He laughs against your lips, the sound heady and breathless and joyous. He pulls back to look at you, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you, {name}.” “I love you, too.” You lean forward and plant a quick kiss against his lips before stepping back, then you take his hand and tug him off the wall and toward the clinic. It’s the first moment of happiness you’ve allowed yourself in awhile, and when you eventually part in front of the clinic, you do so with a lighter heart. [[Next->Chapter11_Stay_Heronv3]]

“Maybe you’re not reading enough.” He places his hands at your waist and turns you toward him, then he leans in, his chest pressed to yours. “I can make several good recommendations.” You kiss the tip of his nose, then twist out of his grasp, throwing him a wink over your shoulder as you do. He clasps a hand to his heart and groans dramatically. “Ugh, such a tease. I’m telling your father.” “You know you love me,” you chuckle, taking his hand in yours and tugging him toward the clinic. “I do. Very much,” he says, planting a kiss on your knuckles. “I love you, too.” You walk the rest of the way in easy silence, your hands clasped, with nothing but the dust to disturb you. It’s the first moment of happiness you’ve allowed yourself in awhile, and when you eventually part in front of the clinic, you do so with a lighter heart. [[Next->Chapter11_Stay_Heronv3]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Heron stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. He bounces on the toes of his feet, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the feeder beside you. “Kinda skittish, isn’t he?” Heron asks, leaning into you. “Be nice." He grins devilishly at you. “I’m always nice.” You step toward your father and gesture at Heron beside you. “G-72, this is my…” you trail off as you search for the right word. Heron tilts his head and watches you, curious to see how you’ll end that sentence. [align left] > [[“Partner.”->Chapter11_Stay_Heronv4]] > [["Love."->Chapter11_Stay_Heronv5]] > [["Heron."->Chapter11_Stay_Heronv6]]

Your kiss is tender, unhurried. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, savoring the taste of him, and the moan he gifts you in response sends a shiver down your spine. Lion’s hands rove down your side, settling in the hollow of your lower back, and he tugs you against him. You remain locked together for a time, the silence of The City broken by your ragged breathing and the soft rustling of clothes. You rub your hand up and down his back, your fingers mapping out the broad lines and strong ridges. You break away and nuzzle against his neck as you catch your breath. He plants a kiss to your neck below your ear, speaking against your skin, “I love you, my healer.” “I love you, too.” He walks you back to the clinic, his hand on your lower back, and the heat from his touch remains long after you part. [[Next->Chapter11_Stay_Lionv3]]

You remain locked together for a time, the silence of The City broken only by your even breathing and the soft rustling of clothes. You rub your hand up and down his back, your fingers mapping out the broad lines and strong ridges. Eventually you lift your head and step back, exchanging a tender smile. He plants a kiss on your forehead, speaking against your skin, “I love you, my healer.” “I love you, too.” He walks you back to the clinic, his hand on your lower back, and the heat from his touch remains long after you part. [[Next->Chapter11_Stay_Lionv3]]

sound.ambient.love.url: 'Audio/love.mp3' sound.ambient.love.description: 'hopeful joyous music that builds' -- {ambient sound: 'love'} Their words release something inside you, something hopeful and yearning. You’re touched by their trust in you, by the adoration and determination in their gaze, and your heartbeat quickens. “I love you, too, Robin, more than anything. I love your optimism and thoughtfulness, the way you genuinely care for others, the possibilities you see.” You lean against their chest and smile at them, running the pad of your thumb over their fingers. “And if you truly are okay with it, I would like nothing more than to be with you tonight.” Their expression shifts into one of joyous relief. “Good, that’s good.” Their words tumble out upon a giddy laugh, then their eyes soften and they angle their head up to yours. “I’m so glad.” Your lips meet once, then again, both of you smiling into the kiss. “We should probably head for the clinic,” you murmur against their lips. “Oh!” That adorable blush peeks from beneath the ash. “Yes, good point.” You quickly make your way back to the clinic, hands clasped, both of you stealing glances at the other along the way—Robin blushing furiously when they’re caught, and you smiling till your cheeks ache. You scamper up the stairs and into the clinic room, the air thrumming with shy expectation. Once you’re in the room you carefully close the door behind you, then turn to see Robin eyeing the cot in the center of the room. They’re worrying their bottom lip between their teeth, their right hand tapping an irregular pattern against their hip. They draw in a deep breath, close their eyes, and whisper, “Alright, I can do this.” Their voice is so soft, so hesitant, you don’t think you were intended to hear it. You’re reminded of the morning you first received your duty—when a trio of guard stared you down, ready to announce your fate. You were afraid, reluctant. Helpless. That moment defined your future, but it had little to do with you. You only wanted to flee, to be done with it as quickly as possible. Robin looks poised to flee. They let out their breath in a whoosh and turn to you, crossing the room in three long strides. As they move they tug their shirt up over their head, fumbling with the layers, one arm caught in a sleeve. Finally freeing themself, they toss their shirt hurriedly to the side as they reach for you. You thrust your palm flat against Robin’s chest, forcing them to stumble to a halt. They draw in a sharp breath and drop their arms, their eyes darting back and forth between your hand and your face, their confusion evident. “Robin, relax,” you soothe. “Don’t push yourself.” “I’m alright, don’t worry about me. I mean it, I want to be with you.” The nervous tapping of their hand belies the assertion in their words, their body and their heart speaking two different languages. “I want you, too, dearest, but I don’t want whatever *this* is.” With your free hand you gesture to the shirt and scarf tossed haphazardly on the floor. “I want to do this because it’s something we both crave, because it’s loving and special, and because we *both* deserve happiness. It’s not a means of escape.” “But it is,” they choke out. “That memory of the chamber haunts me, and I don’t want it to linger over me any longer. I don’t want that to be all there is. I *hate* living in fear, but more than that, I hate the idea that I will never know another way. If I don’t do this…” Their voice cracks with the weight of their confession. “Don’t let the fear lead us.” You take a step forward, your hand still maintaining the distance between your bodies, your eyes fixed on theirs. “You said you choose us. So, concentrate on that. Just you and I. Right now.” “I don’t-I don’t know how to do that.” “Just breathe, dearest.” You take a deep breath in through your nose, then let it heave over your lips. “Just like that. Breathe with me.” Robin swallows and nods their head, their shoulders tense. You draw in a deep breath and they follow suit, then release it slowly. You take several more slow breaths, your hand rising and falling with each measured movement of Robin’s chest. You note your {skin_color} fingers against Robin’s fair skin, their naked chest pleasantly devoid of ash. You study their body as you breathe. They have a beautiful form, all supple curves and graceful lines. Your eyes linger over the delicate, sinewy line of their collarbone peppered in freckles, the toned contours of their arms, the slender curve of their waist. When you raise your eyes you find Robin watching you, a ginger half-smile on their face. They raise their hand to your chest, palm up, pausing an inch away from you. “May I?” they ask. [if gender === 'man'] You nod and they carefully part the folds of your collar, then lay their palm against your bare skin. The two of you continue breathing steadily, and you can see Robin’s shoulders dip as they relax, their hand rising and falling with your even breathing. The anxiousness in their expression melts away, their jaw unclenching, lips parted. They bring their other hand up and finger the hem of your shirt. “May I… may I take this off?” You smile and retract your hand. “I would like that.” Robin slowly pulls your shirt up over your head, then gasps softly as their eyes drink you in. They tentatively place their hand back upon your chest, their long fingers splaying across the smooth planes. [if gender === 'woman'] You nod and they carefully part the folds of your collar, then lay their palm against your bare skin, just above the rise of your breasts. The two of you continue breathing steadily, and you can see Robin’s shoulders dip as they relax, their hand rising and falling with your even breathing. The anxiousness in their expression melts away, their jaw unclenching, lips parted. They bring their other hand up and finger the hem of your shirt. “May I… may I take this off?” You smile and retract your hand. “I would like that.” Robin slowly pulls your shirt up over your head, then gasps softly as their eyes drink you in. They tentatively place their hand back upon your chest, their long fingers settling between your breasts, their thumb following the gentle curve. [if gender === 'worker'] You nod and they carefully part the folds of your collar, then lay their palm against your bare skin. The two of you continue breathing steadily, and you can see Robin’s shoulders dip as they relax, their hand rising and falling with your even breathing. The anxiousness in their expression melts away, their jaw unclenching, lips parted. They bring their other hand up and finger the hem of your shirt. “May I… may I take this off?” You smile and retract your hand. “I would like that.” Robin slowly pulls your shirt up over your head, then gasps softly as their eyes drink you in. They tentatively place their hand back upon your chest, their long fingers splaying across the smooth skin. [continue] You think briefly that this should feel awkward, shameful even—you, standing unmoving in the room, baring yourself to another. But it’s not, not when Robin is looking at you with such shy fascination, such gentleness. The desirous heat in their eyes contrasting with the demure blush on their cheeks is both charming and provocative. You reach forward again, but rather than laying your palm flat, you instead trace your fingers along their collarbone, slowly, out toward their shoulders, then back up along the graceful curve of their neck. You thread your fingers into their hair and a noise somewhere between a moan and a purr escapes their lips, and they lean into you. [if gender === 'man'] Robin kisses down your neck, the touch featherlight, their breath tickling the skin as their lips rove past. They dip their hand down your chest, then further still, following the line of muscle till it meets your trousers. Their fingers venture just beneath the waistband, eliciting a gasp from you. “Is this good?” they ask, quickly raising their eyes to yours. “Better than good,” you rasp, your grip in their curls tightening. Robin’s eyes narrow, specks of bronze dancing amidst the brown and green, and they lean forward and claim your lips. They kiss you as they tease their fingers along your hips, their mouth no longer featherlight but pressing, the trepidation from earlier replaced with a quiet need. Every shudder that wracks your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, seems to embolden them further. [if gender === 'woman'] Robin kisses down your neck, the touch featherlight, their breath tickling the skin as their lips rove past. They dip their hand down between your breasts, fingers splayed, then back up to cup the underside, eliciting a gasp from you. “Is this good?” they ask, quickly raising their eyes to yours. “Better than good,” you rasp, your grip in their curls tightening. Robin’s eyes narrow, specks of bronze dancing amidst the brown and green, and they lean forward and claim your lips. They kiss you as they massage your breast, their mouth no longer featherlight but pressing, the timidness from earlier replaced with a quiet need. Every shudder that wracks your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, seems to embolden them further. [if gender === 'worker'] Robin kisses down your neck, the touch featherlight, their breath tickling the skin as their lips rove past. They dip their hand down your chest, then further still till they meet with your trousers. Their fingers venture just beneath the waistband, eliciting a gasp from you. “Is this good?” they ask, quickly raising their eyes to yours. “Better than good,” you rasp, your grip in their curls tightening. Robin’s eyes narrow, specks of bronze dancing amidst the brown and green, and they lean forward and claim your lips. They kiss you as they tease their fingers along your hips, their mouth no longer featherlight but pressing, the trepidation from earlier replaced with a quiet need. Every shudder that wracks your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, seems to embolden them further. [continue] Up till now you were cautious in your affection, apprehensive of their comfort, but their touch threatens to undo your composure. Your grip in their hair tightens and you pull, gently and deliberately. Their mouth breaks from yours on a gasp as they tilt their head back, exposing the elegant bend of their neck. You kiss their neck, gently at first, then you suck their skin into your mouth. “Oh, {name}…" You kiss the tender spot of skin and pull away. “Is this okay?” “Yes, please, don’t stop.” Robin throws their arms about your shoulders, tugging you hard against them. You lose your balance and stumble, the both of you tripping over each other’s legs as you fall in a tangled mess of limbs upon the cot. You quickly raise yourself up on one knee, your hands roving over Robin’s slender form beneath you. “Are you alright-” You’re interrupted by a snort, then a bright, jubilant snicker. Robin covers their mouth with their hands, their laughter muffled, their eyes alight with mirth. You raise an eyebrow and they snort again behind their hand, their shoulders quivering. “I’m sorry,” they chortle, dropping their hands to their chest. “That was less than graceful.” You chuckle and look down at them, admiring the way their curls fan out in a fiery halo around their head. Their eyes dance, their smile relaxed and easy, their freckles visible where the ash has rubbed off. “You are beautiful, dearest,” you murmur. [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, reaching up to stroke your bare head, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You are my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [else] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, curling their fingers into your hair, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You are my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [continue] This time when you kiss Robin it feels like something has shifted within both of you, like something was uncaged in that moment when you fell upon the cot. Like the tight fear that coiled around you snapped, shattered, freeing you. And what remains are endless possibilities—immense and buoyant and dizzyingly bright. [[Like falling into the sky.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv1v1]]

sound.ambient.love.url: 'Audio/love.mp3' sound.ambient.love.description: 'hopeful joyous music that builds' -- {ambient sound: 'love'} Their words release something inside you, something hopeful and yearning. You’re touched by their trust in you, by the adoration and determination in their gaze, and your heartbeat quickens. “I love you, too, Robin, more than anything. I love your optimism and thoughtfulness, the way you genuinely care for others, the possibilities you see.” You lean against their chest and smile at them, running the pad of your thumb over their fingers. “And if you truly are okay with it, I would like nothing more than to be with you tonight.” Their expression shifts into one of joyous relief. “Good, that’s good.” Their words tumble out upon a giddy laugh, then their eyes soften and they angle their head up to yours. “I’m so glad.” Your lips meet once, then again, both of you smiling into the kiss. “We should probably head for the clinic,” you murmur against their lips. “Oh!” That adorable blush peeks from beneath the ash. “Yes, good point.” You quickly make your way back to the clinic, hands clasped, both of you stealing glances at the other along the way—Robin blushing furiously when they’re caught, and you smiling till your cheeks ache. You scamper up the stairs and into the clinic room, the air thrumming with shy expectation. Once you’re in the room you carefully close the door behind you, then turn to see Robin eyeing the cot in the center of the room. They’re worrying their bottom lip between their teeth, their right hand tapping an irregular pattern against their hip. They draw in a deep breath, close their eyes, and whisper, “Alright, I can do this.” Their voice is so soft, so hesitant, you don’t think you were intended to hear it. You’re reminded of the morning you first received your duty—when a trio of guard stared you down, ready to announce your fate. You were afraid, reluctant. Helpless. That moment defined your future, but it had little to do with you. You only wanted to flee, to be done with it as quickly as possible. Robin looks poised to flee. They let out their breath in a whoosh and turn to you, crossing the room in three long strides. As they move they tug their shirt up over their head, fumbling with the layers, one arm caught in a sleeve. Finally freeing themself, they toss their shirt hurriedly to the side as they reach for you. You thrust your palm flat against Robin’s chest, forcing them to stumble to a halt. They draw in a sharp breath and drop their arms, their eyes darting back and forth between your hand and your face, their confusion evident. “Robin, relax,” you soothe. “Don’t push yourself.” “I’m alright, don’t worry about me. I mean it, I want to be with you.” The nervous tapping of their hand belies the assertion in their words, their body and their heart speaking two different languages. “I want you, too, dearest, but I don’t want whatever *this* is.” With your free hand you gesture to the shirt and scarf tossed haphazardly on the floor. “I want to do this because it’s something we both crave, because it’s loving and special, and because we *both* deserve happiness. It’s not a means of escape.” “But it is,” they choke out. “That memory of the chamber haunts me, and I don’t want it to linger over me any longer. I don’t want that to be all there is. I *hate* living in fear, but more than that, I hate the idea that I will never know another way. If I don’t do this…” Their voice cracks with the weight of their confession. “Don’t let the fear lead us.” You take a step forward, your hand still maintaining the distance between your bodies, your eyes fixed on theirs. “You said you choose us. So, concentrate on that. Just you and I. Right now.” “I don’t-I don’t know how to do that.” “Just breathe, dearest.” You take a deep breath in through your nose, then let it heave over your lips. “Just like that. Breathe with me.” Robin swallows and nods their head, their shoulders tense. You draw in a deep breath and they follow suit, then release it slowly. You take several more slow breaths, your hand rising and falling with each measured movement of Robin’s chest. You note your {skin_color} fingers against Robin’s fair skin, their naked chest pleasantly devoid of ash. You study their body as you breathe. They have a beautiful form, all supple curves and graceful lines. Your eyes linger over the delicate, sinewy line of their collarbone peppered in freckles, the toned contours of their arms, the slender curve of their waist. When you raise your eyes you find Robin watching you, a ginger half-smile on their face. They raise their hand to your chest, palm up, pausing an inch away from you. “May I?” they ask. You nod and they carefully part the folds of your collar, then lay their palm against your bare skin. The two of you continue breathing steadily, and you can see Robin’s shoulders dip as they relax, their hand rising and falling with your even breathing. The anxiousness in their expression melts away, their jaw unclenching, lips parted. You trace your hand up along their collarbone, out toward their shoulders, then back following the graceful curve of their neck. You thread your fingers into their hair and a noise somewhere between a moan and a purr escapes their lips. Robin’s eyes narrow, specks of bronze dancing amidst the brown and green, and they lean forward and claim your lips. They kiss you as they tease their fingers along your hips, the trepidation from earlier replaced with a quiet need. Every shudder that wracks your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, seems to embolden them further. Up till now you were cautious in your affection, apprehensive of their comfort, but their touch threatens to undo your composure. Your grip in their hair tightens and you pull, gently and deliberately. Their mouth breaks from yours on a gasp as they tilt their head back, exposing the elegant bend of their neck. You kiss their neck, gently at first, then you suck their skin into your mouth. “Oh, {name}…" You kiss the tender spot of skin and pull away. “Is this okay?” “Yes, please, don’t stop.” Robin throws their arms about your shoulders, tugging you hard against them. You lose your balance and stumble, the both of you tripping over each other’s legs as you fall in a tangled mess of limbs upon the cot. You quickly raise yourself up on one knee, your hands roving over Robin’s slender form beneath you. “Are you alright-” You’re interrupted by a snort, then a bright, jubilant snicker. Robin covers their mouth with their hands, their laughter muffled, their eyes alight with mirth. You raise an eyebrow and they snort again behind their hand, their shoulders quivering. “I’m sorry,” they chortle, dropping their hands to their chest. “That was less than graceful.” You chuckle and look down at them, admiring the way their curls fan out in a fiery halo around their head. Their eyes dance, their smile relaxed and easy, their freckles visible where the ash has rubbed off. “You are beautiful, dearest,” you murmur. [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, reaching up to stroke your bare head, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You are my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [else] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, curling their fingers into your hair, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You are my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [continue] This time when you kiss Robin it feels like something has shifted within both of you, like something was uncaged in that moment when you fell upon the cot. Like the tight fear that coiled around you snapped, shattered, freeing you. And what remains are endless possibilities—immense and buoyant and dizzyingly bright. Like falling into the sky. Robin kneads the nape of your neck, their touch gentle, confirming. Claiming. You tease their mouth open with your tongue and they greet it with their own, caressing and exploring, a moan rumbling deep from the base of their throat. They break from you, lifting their free hand to cup your face. Their expression shifts from amazed to besotted, as if you’re another treasure they’ve saved from the pits, a delight for no one but them. “{name}, this is… I want…” Then they laugh, the sound keen and breathy. “I don’t know what to do next.” You return the laugh, the sound escaping you on a relieved shudder. “I don’t know either, dearest.” You stretch out your legs and lower your body closer, your chest grazing theirs. “But we can discover that together.” “I would like that,” they murmur, their hands resuming their exploration, settling on your hips. “I would like that very much.” And so you do. Every kiss is an affirmation, every moan a new delight. You explore each others bodies and relish each sensation, certain that this is the way it’s supposed to feel—to give and receive, your hearts beating a chorus together. This is where you are safe. [[This is what it means to love.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv2v1]]

Their words unlock something inside you, something hopeful and jubilant. “I love you, too, Robin, more than anything.” You lean against their chest and smile at them, running the pad of your thumb over their fingers. “I love your optimism and thoughtfulness, the way you genuinely care for others, the possibilities you see. And I’m flattered, truly, that you trust me enough to take that step.” You bite your bottom lip, your fingers interlocking behind their back. “But I’m not ready for it myself. I would choose you, too, I would, but-” They interrupt you by crashing their lips to yours, the kiss clumsy and off center, but happy, a pleased laugh tumbling over their lips as they kiss you. “You don’t have to explain, {name}. I understand better than anyone,” they assure you, their expression one of joyous relief. “I’m simply overjoyed that you feel the same. That you love me. I’m so glad.” Your lips meet again, this time slower, both of you smiling as you kiss. “I wouldn’t say no to another sleepover, though, if you’d like,” you murmur against their lips. “I just want to hold you.” “Oh!” That adorable blush peeks from beneath the ash. “Definitely.” You quickly make your way back to the clinic, hands clasped, both of you stealing glances at the other—Robin blushing furiously when they’re caught, and you smiling till your cheeks ache. You scamper up the stairs and into the clinic room, your skin tingling at the warm grip of their fingers entwined with yours. Once you’re in the room you carefully close the door behind you, then turn to see Robin eyeing the cot in the center of the room. They cast a shy glance your way, then hold out their hand. You grasp it and they walk backward toward the cot, pulling you along. They lay on their back and you climb in over them, your arms boxing them in on either side. You reach forward, tracing your fingers along their collarbone, slowly, out toward their shoulders, then back up along the graceful curve of their neck. You thread your fingers into their hair and a noise somewhere between a moan and a purr escapes their lips, and they stretch up to you. Robin kisses up your neck, the touch featherlight, their breath tickling the skin as their lips rove past. Their hands explore your back, trailing patterns along your shoulder blades before fisting in your shirt. Then they claim your mouth, eagerly, clumsily, smiling when you open your mouth to them and your tongues tangle together. You pull back, nipping on their bottom lip as you do, and a sultry laugh rumbles in their throat. You look down at them, admiring the way their curls fan out in a fiery halo around their head. Their eyes dance, their smile relaxed and easy, their freckles visible where the ash has rubbed off. “You are beautiful, dearest,” you murmur. [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, reaching up to stroke your bare head, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You’re my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [else] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, curling their fingers into your hair, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You’re my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [continue] This time when you kiss Robin it feels like something has shifted within both of you, like something was released—the nightmare of the chamber, the anxiousness of tomorrow, every fear that bound you snapped, shattered, freeing you. And what remains are endless possibilities—immense and buoyant and dizzyingly bright. Like falling into the sky. Your arms begin to tremble till you can no longer hold yourself poised like that, so you settle down onto the cot beside them and they shift to face you. They throw their arm over your hip, nuzzling into your neck as you cradle their head in your arms. You kiss the top of their head, their curls tickling your cheek, and they murmur something incoherent, their voice muffled into your skin. You stroke their hair and they murmur again, their arm tightening about you. “Is everything alright?” you venture softly. Robin doesn’t move for a moment, and a niggle of fear worms its way into your chest. Just as you start to squirm with unease, they lift their head. Their eyes are a bright emerald and copper, and they glisten with unshed tears. The niggle of fear grows before you realize they’re smiling—wholly, unabashedly smiling, their teeth flashing in the moonlight. You’ve never seen them look so beautiful, and you’re struck silent. “You’re my wind,” they tell you. “I… what?” “You’ve seen the pits, you know the smoke always hangs in the air. It’s suffocating. But sometimes, a strong wind will come in and blow the smoke away.” Their hand glides against you as they speak, following the curve of your hips up to your waist, along your chest, your neck, till finally settling upon your cheek. “And for a moment, I can see the blue sky. It’s huge and bright, and I know that there’s more beyond those pits. There’s something greater out there. And it’s beautiful.” They touch their nose to yours. “You’re my wind.” You release a shuddering breath, your chest full with the force of your emotions. You have no words, but you’re pretty sure the smile on your face mirrors theirs. You lean forward and kiss one corner of their mouth, then the other, before tasting their lips. Robin hums happily against your mouth before burrowing back into the crook of your neck, and you pull them closer. You lay quietly for a time, Robin tracing patterns on your hip, your fingers threading their hair. “You’re going to be meeting with that guard tomorrow morning, right?” they eventually ask, their voice heavy with drowsiness. “I want to be there, too.” “I’d love to have you with me, dearest,” you reply with a yawn. They murmur a sleepy response. It sounds something like “I want to always be with you,” but you’re too tired to focus on their words. [[The both of you drift into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv5]]

Their words unlock something inside you, something hopeful and jubilant. “I love you, too, Robin, more than anything.” You lean against their chest and smile at them, running the pad of your thumb over their fingers. “I love your optimism and thoughtfulness, the way you genuinely care for others, the possibilities you see. And I’m flattered, truly, that you trust me enough to take that step.” You bite your bottom lip, your fingers interlocking behind their back. “But I don’t want that. If I did, I would choose you, too, I would, but-” They detangle their hand from yours to place a finger against your lips, silencing your words. “You don’t have to explain, {name}. I understand better than anyone.” Their expression shifts into one of joyous relief and a happy, pleased laugh tumbles from their lips. “I’m simply overjoyed that you feel the same. That you love me. I’m so glad.” Their laugh is contagious and you join in, resting your forehead against theirs once more. “I wouldn’t say no to another sleepover, though, if you’d like,” you murmur, your breath tickling their skin. “I just want to hold you.” “Oh!” That adorable blush peeks from beneath the ash. “Definitely.” You quickly make your way back to the clinic, hands clasped, both of you stealing glances at the other—Robin blushing furiously when they’re caught, and you smiling till your cheeks ache. You scamper up the stairs and into the clinic room, your skin tingling at the warm grip of their fingers entwined with yours. Once you’re in the room you carefully close the door behind you, then turn to see Robin eyeing the cot in the center of the room. They cast a shy glance your way, then hold out their hand. You grasp it and they walk backward toward the cot, pulling you along. They lay on their back and you climb in over them, your arms boxing them in on either side. You look down at them, admiring the way their curls fan out in a fiery halo around their head. Their eyes dance, their smile relaxed and easy, their freckles visible where the ash has rubbed off. “You are beautiful, dearest,” you murmur. [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, reaching up to stroke your bare head, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You’re my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs, till your foreheads touch. “I love you,” they breathe in the space between your lips. [else] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, curling their fingers into your hair, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You’re my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs, till your foreheads touch. “I love you,” they breathe in the space between your lips. [continue] Your arms begin to tremble till you can no longer hold yourself poised like that, so you settle down onto the cot beside them and they shift to face you. They throw their arm over your hip, nuzzling into your neck as you cradle their head in your arms. You kiss the top of their head, their curls tickling your cheek, and they murmur something incoherent, their voice muffled into your skin. You stroke their hair and they murmur again, their arm tightening about you. “Is everything alright?” you venture softly. Robin doesn’t move for a moment, and a niggle of fear worms its way into your chest. Just as you start to squirm with unease, they lift their head. Their eyes are a bright emerald and copper, and they glisten with unshed tears. The niggle of fear grows before you realize they’re smiling—wholly, unabashedly smiling, their teeth flashing in the moonlight. You’ve never seen them look so beautiful, and you’re struck silent. “You’re my wind,” they tell you. “I… what?” “You’ve seen the pits, you know the smoke always hangs in the air. It’s suffocating. But sometimes, a strong wind will come in and blow the smoke away.” Their hand glides against you as they speak, following the curve of your hips up to your waist, along your chest, your neck, till finally settling upon your cheek. “And for a moment, I can see the blue sky. It’s huge and bright, and I know that there’s more beyond those pits. There’s something greater out there. And it’s beautiful.” They touch their nose to yours. “You’re my wind.” You release a shuddering breath, your chest full with the force of your emotions. You have no words, but you’re pretty sure the smile on your face mirrors theirs. You lean forward and plant a gentle kiss on their forehead. Robin hums happily before burrowing back into the crook of your neck, and you pull them closer. You lay quietly for a time, Robin tracing patterns on your hip, your fingers threading their hair. “You’re going to be meeting with that guard tomorrow morning, right?” they eventually ask, their voice heavy with drowsiness. “I want to be there, too.” “I’d love to have you with me, dearest,” you reply with a yawn. They murmur a sleepy response. It sounds something like “I want to always be with you,” but you’re too tired to focus on their words. [[The both of you drift into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv5]]

Afterwards you lie side by side, your spent bodies pressed together, their arm thrown over your hips, your arm cradling their head as they nuzzle into your neck. You kiss the top of their head, their curls sticking to your sweat-lined neck, and they murmur something incoherent, their voice muffled into your skin. You stroke their hair and they murmur again, their arm tightening about you. “Is everything alright?” you venture softly. You feel wonderful, complete, incomprehensibly happy, yet a niggle of fear prickles your chest. “How was it?” Robin doesn’t move for a moment, just long enough for you to squirm with unease. Then they lift their head. Their eyes are a bright emerald and copper, and they glisten with unshed tears. The niggle of fear grows before you realize they’re smiling—wholly, unabashedly smiling, their teeth flashing in the moonlight. You’ve never seen them look so beautiful, and you’re struck silent. “You’re my wind,” they tell you. “I… what?” “You’ve seen the pits, you know the smoke always hangs in the air. It’s suffocating. But sometimes, a strong wind will come in and blow the smoke away.” Their hand glides against you as they speak, following the curve of your hips up to your waist, along your chest, your neck, till finally settling upon your cheek. “And for a moment, I can see the blue sky. It’s huge and bright, and I know that there’s more beyond those pits. There’s something greater out there. And it’s beautiful.” They touch their nose to yours. “You’re my wind.” You release a shuddering breath, your chest full with the force of your emotions. You have no words, but you’re pretty sure the smile on your face mirrors theirs. You lean forward and kiss one corner of their mouth, then the other, before tasting their lips. Robin hums happily against your mouth before burrowing back into the crook of your neck, and you pull them closer. You lay quietly for a time, Robin tracing patterns on your naked hip, your fingers threading their hair. “You’re going to be meeting with that guard tomorrow morning, right?” they eventually ask, their voice heavy with drowsiness. “I want to be there, too.” “I’d love to have you with me, dearest,” you reply with a yawn. They murmur a sleepy response. It sounds something like “I want to always be with you,” but you’re too tired to focus on their words. [[The both of you drift into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv5]]

Heron strolls up beside you, his hands casually tucked inside his pockets. “Mind if I walk you back?” “You never have to ask, Heron,” you reply with a smile. The two of you continue your walk together. “So, I may have been teasing when I called G-72 ‘daddy guard’,” Heron says, an unusually serious pitch to his voice. “But in all honesty, I want to meet him.” He levels his pale blue eyes on yours. “I’d like to be there in the morning when you speak to him, if that’s alright.” You tilt your head and ask, “As support or protection?” “Both?” He grins lopsidedly at you. “I know you’ve spoken to him several times alone already, but I’d feel better if I were there.” His grin narrows into a smirk, his eyes flashing suggestively. “Plus, you know, I have a duty to speak to him. If he really is your father-” [if hasFather] “He is.” [else] “He’s not.” [continue] “…then I need to ask his permission to woo you or something, right?” [align left] > [[❤️ “Woo me?” you snort, biting back a laugh. “Someone’s been reading too many romance novels.” You trail your fingers up his arm. “Besides, I think we’ve moved firmly past wooing, haven’t we?”->Chapter11_Escape_Heronv1]] > [[“Woo me?” you snort, biting back a laugh. “Someone’s been reading too many romance novels.”->Chapter11_Escape_Heronv2]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Heron stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. He bounces on the toes of his feet, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the feeder beside you. “Kinda skittish, isn’t he?” Heron asks, leaning into you. “Be nice." He grins devilishly at you. “I’m always nice.” You step toward the guard and gesture at Heron beside you. “G-72, this is my…” you trail off as you search for the right word. Heron tilts his head and watches you, curious to see how you’ll end that sentence. [align left] > [[“Partner.”->Chapter11_Escape_Heronv4]] > [["Love."->Chapter11_Escape_Heronv5]] > [["Heron."->Chapter11_Escape_Heronv6]]

You stop when you see Lion approaching. “May I walk you back?” he asks. “There is something I would like to discuss with you.” “What is it?” You resume walking and he falls into step beside you. “I would like to be present when you speak to G-72 tomorrow morning,” he says slowly, his voice carefully measured. “It is not that I do not trust him, nor that I doubt you, but it would set my mind at ease to be there with you.” “I don’t believe he’d hurt me, Lion,” you assure him, touching his hand, “if that’s what you’re worried about.” “It is partly that, but I also wish to be at your side.” He steps in front of you, halting you, and levels his eyes on yours. “I know you are still sorting out your feelings for this guard. Let me help you. You do not always have to be the strong one, you know.” “I thought that was your job,” you tease, poking a finger at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He covers your hand with his, keeping it locked against him. His expression is stern, but his eyes are a soft brown when he regards you. “I am serious, {name}. You comforted me in my despair, you rallied us when we were lost. Let me be there with you, as you have always been for me.” You see yourself reflected in the sheen of his eyes—your mouth open in surprise, your eyes wide and appreciative. You smile and look away, your cheeks flushing at the ardency of his words. “I think you give me too much credit. But yes, of course you can be there. I’d like you there.” [align left] > [[❤️ You bring a hand to his face, cupping his cheek, and he lowers his mouth to yours.->Chapter11_Escape_Lionv1]] > [[You snake your arms around his neck and nuzzle close, breathing in the scent of him.->Chapter11_Escape_Lionv2]]

You look back just in time to find Ferret catching up with you, her hand slipping into yours. She gives it a squeeze and you continue your trek back to the clinic in contentment. After a while, she clears her throat. “I’m coming with you, you know.” You glance down at your joined hands and give her a teasing smirk. “Yes, I see that.” “I mean tomorrow,” she clarifies, giving you an annoyed look. You smile affectionately at her. “Tomorrow?” “Yeah. You know, when you talk to... that guy.” She purses her lips in distaste. [if hasFather] Amusement colors your voice. “That guy? You mean my father?” [else] Amusement colors your voice. “That guy? You mean G-72?” [continue] She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Him.” You chuckle at her reluctance to even address the man properly, though you can’t really blame her. “If you can’t even say his name, how do you expect to talk to him?” “Who says I have to talk to him?” “Well, I hope you’re not accompanying me just to get a few punches in.” She stops you, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “This is important to you, right? This... relationship you’re building with him, whether he’s your father or not. It’s important to you?” You nod in answer, the teasing smirk slipping from your lips at her sudden seriousness. She lifts her chin, eyes determined. “Then that’s why I’m going with you. Because what’s important to you is important to me.” Your smile slowly returns. “Simple as that?” “Simple as that.” “Well, alright then,” you say. She gives you a triumphant look, as though she has won some great battle with this conversation. [align left] > [[❤️ You tug her toward you and press a kiss to her neck.->Chapter11_Escape_Ferretv1]] > [[You tug her toward you and clasp her in your arms.->Chapter11_Escape_Ferretv2]]

You stop when you see Lion approaching. “May I walk you back?” he asks. “There is something I would like to discuss with you.” “What is it?” You resume walking and he falls into step beside you. “I would like to be present when you speak to G-72 tomorrow morning,” he says slowly, his voice carefully measured. “It is not that I do not trust him, nor that I doubt you, but it would set my mind at ease to be there with you.” “I don’t believe he’d hurt me, Lion,” you assure him, “if that’s what you’re worried about.” “It is partly that, but I also wish to be at your side.” He steps in front of you, halting you, and levels his eyes on yours. “I know you are still sorting out your feelings for this guard. Let me help you, my friend." His expression is stern, but his eyes are a soft brown when he regards you. “You comforted me in my despair, you rallied us when we were lost. Let me be there for you, as you have been for me.” You see yourself reflected in the sheen of his eyes—your mouth open in surprise, your eyes wide and appreciative. "Thank you, Lion. I would appreciate that.” He smiles in return, then walks you back to the clinic before bidding you goodnight. [[Next->Chapter11_Escape_Nonev1]]

Robin comes up beside you, their hand finding yours. “Mind if I walk you back?” “Not at all,” you reply. You start to smile at them, but pause, your lips tilting downward as you study their face. Their brow is creased and their thin lips drawn in a tight line. “Is something wrong?” you venture. “Hmm?” Robin blinks at you, their brow relaxing, as if waking from their thoughts. “No, nothing is wrong. Why do you ask?” “You look… stern. More serious than usual.” “Oh. Well…” They pull you to a stop and reach forward, taking your free hand in theirs so you stand with both hands clasped in front of you. “It *is* serious, I suppose, but hopefully not in a bad way.” They take a deep breath then let it out slowly. “All this talk tonight, the planning, the decisions we’re making… it’s helped me make another important decision.” You can hear the barest of trembles in their voice, and their hands tighten around yours. “The decision to be with you.” The words come out short, a little louder, perhaps, than Robin intended, and they swallow down the tremor before speaking again. “I would like to… be intimate… with you. Tonight. If-if that is something you want?” Their eyes dart back and forth between your clasped hands and your face, their expression resolved, but no less wary. Their shoulders are a tense line, their knees straight and stiff, the knot in their throat bobbing as they swallow. You spread your arms to your side, bringing their hands out toward their hips, then step forward into the space, your chest grazing theirs. They blink rapidly before their eyes settle on yours. “We don’t have to do this, dearest. If it makes you uncomfortable-” “No, I…” They swallow and release a shuddering breath, the wariness slipping from their form as their shoulders relax. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, {name}. Nervous, maybe. In a good way. But never uncomfortable.” You touch your forehead to theirs and they release a pleased hum as they lean in, their nose brushing yours. “I know how awful the chamber was for you,” you soothe, “and I don’t want you to relive that pain. You have nothing to prove to me.” “I know, I’ve been thinking about this for some time, truly.” They close their eyes and inhale, breathing in the air at your lips, the warmth between you. “I only have that one memory of the chamber, and I want it gone. I want something I can hold onto in the coming days. Of course, I’m scared. Not of you, never of you. I’m scared of living with this fear for the rest of my life. Of it keeping me from loving you.” You suck in your breath and pull back. Robin opens their eyes and you are lost in the myriad of colors in their irises. “I love you, {name}. You make me feel like I’m enough, like I don’t have to be anything other than myself. I trust you and I love you.” They pull your arms behind their back, your hands still clasped in theirs, locking themself in your embrace. “I have never had any choice in my life, no decision that was mine. Except this. I choose you, {name}. I choose *us*.” [align left] > [[❤️ Your heart thumps in your chest; you want this as much as they do. (sex, explicit)->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv1]] > [[❤️ Your heart thumps in your chest; you want this as much as they do. (sex, fade to black)->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv2]] > [[❤️ You share their feelings, but while they may be ready for such intimacy, you are not.->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv3]] > [[You share their feelings, but you don’t want that level of intimacy.->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv4]]

The word comes to you easily. It’s always been you and he—before you had duties, before you even had numbers, you had each other. You are one cohesive unit, and there is no one else you can imagine by your side. There is no one else you’d ever want. Heron grins widely and nods at you, as if affirming your words, before addressing the guard. “Name’s Heron. Glad to finally meet you.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Heronv7'}

You loved him before you even learned the word, and that ardor has only grown through the years. There is no title, no designation, no word that can better describe Heron than the emotion itself. The word would not exist in your vocabulary, if not for the man. Heron smiles at you tenderly, his pale blue eyes trained on your lips, as if wanting to affirm your words right then and there. He sucks in a breath and shakes his head abruptly, then addresses the guard, “Name’s Heron. Glad to finally meet you.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Heronv7'}

It’s so simple, and yet so weighty. Every childhood memory, every moment spent together, every future you can envision, all wrapped into this name. This man. *Your* Heron. Your thoughts are evident in the way you breathe his name, like a caress, and the tips of Heron’s ears redden. His lips part for just a moment before quickly lifting in the most brilliant, mesmerizing smile, as dizzyingly bright as his pale eyes, his gaze full of joy and affection. He clears his throat before addressing the guard. “Glad to finally meet you.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Heronv7'}

Guard G-72 shifts his gaze between the two of you before settling on Heron. “Good to meet you, too.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the feeder. “I remember you,” he murmurs. “You were that boy in the nursery.” Heron nods and the guard squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” “I love {gender_3rdPronoun},” Heron replies instantly, his voice brokering no doubt. He glances briefly at you. “Always have, always will. I will follow {gender_3rdPronoun} anywhere,” he smiles wryly, “even into a rebellion.” “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Destroying the weapons is a good start.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_13]]

As the word leaves your lips, you realize you’ve known it from the start—from that first moment in your clinic room when you *knew* this was a person you could relate to, speak to. Connect with. An equal. Lion’s expression shifts, the severity softening into a solemn fondness. “It is good to finally meet you, G-72.” He holds his hand out to the guard—the gesture is odd, his hand perpendicular to the ground, not outstretched like he sometimes does to you. You recall reading about handshakes and wonder if this is what Lion is attempting. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Lionv7'}

There is no better word for him. You have always felt an inexplicable pull toward the builder. He taught you to read and speak, but more than that, he taught you to express yourself. To recognize your worth. There is no better expression of love than that. Lion smiles affectionately at you before addressing the guard. “It is good to finally meet you, G-72.” He holds his hand out to the guard—the gesture is odd, his hand perpendicular to the ground, not outstretched like he sometimes does to you. You recall reading about handshakes and wonder if this is what Lion is attempting. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Lionv7'}

You know from your reading that the word isn’t technically correct; there is some sort of ceremony or certificate involved in the stories you’ve read. But the sentiment is there. It is more profound than friendship, more indelible than affection. You are ready to die for this man, but more than that, you are ready to live for him—to live and love in a way that does not exist in this city. For as long as you both shall live. Lion stares at you, his mouth open in mute wonder, his dark eyes glistening. Then he swallows tightly and smiles at you, his breath quickening. “I am,” he murmurs, his voice husky. He clears his throat before addressing the guard. “It is good to finally meet you, G-72.” He holds his hand out to the guard—the gesture is odd, his hand perpendicular to the ground, not outstretched like he sometimes does to you. You recall reading about handshakes and wonder if this is what Lion is attempting. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Lionv7'}

The guard blinks at the professed hand, then slowly reaches forward to clasp it. “Good to meet you, too.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the builder. “I’ve seen you around,” he murmurs. Then he squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” “More than my own life,” Lion replies instantly, his voice brokering no doubt. He glances briefly at you. “I love {name}. I will do everything in my power to keep {gender_3rdPronoun} safe, you can be certain of that.” “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Destroying the weapons is a good start.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_13]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Robin stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. They cross their arms over their chest, then uncross them and drop them at their sides. Then clasp them behind their back. They shuffle from one foot to the other, stretching their neck to try to see around the corner of the building. “You don’t have to worry,” you assure them. “No one else will find us here.” “I’m not worried about that,” they tell you, fiddling with the cuff of their sleeve. “What if he doesn’t like me?” “Dearest, no one can *not* like you.” They smile at that, their shoulders relaxing. The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the burner beside you. You step toward the guard and gesture at Robin beside you. “G-72, this is Robin, my…” you trail off as you search for the right word. Robin tilts their head and watches you, curious to see how you’ll end that sentence. [align left] > [[“Partner.”->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv6]] > [["Love."->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv7]] > [["Dearest."->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv8]]

“Right then,” Heron jumps to his feet and starts heading up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any time.” “That guard better do his damn job,” Ferret grumbles as she follows him. “Can’t believe I’m trusting-” She stops and looks around. Realizing that the guard hasn’t budged, she yells in exasperation, “Hey, you! Old guy!” The guard doesn’t seem to have heard her, his eyes once again on the books. “G-whatever the hell your number is, we haven’t got all night!” He startles and looks around, as if there’s another old guard hiding in the bunker. Ferret waves her arms in agitation. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get the hairy bear man moving!” You chuckle and grab the guard’s arm, pulling him toward the stairwell. “Come on, bear man. You’re with us now.” He follows you up, a small smile on his face. “Bear?” “I think she just named you.” Ferret misses a step and stumbles, and you almost collide with her. You press your hand firmly to her back to get her moving again. “I did *not* name the guard,” she snaps, looking affronted. At the top of the stairs you hear a sharp cackle as Heron exclaims, “You named Papa Bear!” “Shut the fuck up, Heron!” You emerge from the bunker to find Robin and Lion tossing handfuls of sand on the fire in the nearby pit. At your questioning look, Lion explains, “I do not want the guard to have ideas about burning the books.” “Good idea.” You move to help but right then Robin tosses one large handful and the flames sputter and die. The circle is cast in hazy shadows, and you blink as your eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s not absolute—the horizon glows like a false dawn from the distant pits. Robin sighs, the sound one of relief and finality. “That fire has never gone out before.” “A night for many changes,” you murmur. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You feel a hand slip into yours and grip firmly. Ferret rests her cheek against yours, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “You better fucking be okay, you hear me?” You smile against her cheek. “Only if you promise the same,” you return. She kisses you in response, hard, then pulls away, her eyes steel, her posture resolute. You squeeze her hand before letting go. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] Heron slides a hand around your waist and presses close. “Hey. You be careful, okay?” His expression is calm, but his voice trembles. You lean forward and kiss him, the movement brief, but you linger there. “You, too,” you speak against his lips. He kisses you again before pulling away. You hold his gaze, gathering strength from the glimmer in his eyes, the resolute line of his mouth. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You level your gaze on Ferret and Heron. “You two be safe, alright?” Your heart clenches with the thought of harm coming to either of them—the fear coats your throat and you tamp it down to get the words out, “Get in the hall, get the weapons, get out. No heroics.” Heron grips your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze, while Ferret nods resolutely beside him. “We’ll see you on the other side of this, I promise.” [if loveInterest === 'builder'] You level your gaze on Ferret and Heron. “You two be safe, alright?” Your heart clenches with the thought of harm coming to either of them—the fear coats your throat and you tamp it down to get the words out, “Get in the hall, get the weapons, get out. No heroics.” Heron grips your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze, while Ferret nods resolutely beside him. “We’ll see you on the other side of this, I promise.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] You level your gaze on Ferret and Heron. “You two be safe, alright?” Your heart clenches with the thought of harm coming to either of them—the fear coats your throat and you tamp it down to get the words out, “Get in the hall, get the weapons, get out. No heroics.” Heron grips your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze, while Ferret nods resolutely beside him. “We’ll see you on the other side of this, I promise.” [continue] “That goes for everyone.” You look at each worker in turn, making sure to include Bear in your words. [align left] > [[“Remember why we’re doing this,” you implore, your voice earnest. “It’s not about the guard or the chamber or even books. This is about life.”->Chapter11_16v1]] > [[“I refuse to lose anyone else to this city,” you assert, your voice cutting. “People are suffering, people who have no voice. Tonight, we must be their voice.”->Chapter11_16v2]] > [[“We have made it this far together,” you profess, your voice proud. “We have accomplished amazing things. And I can not wait to see what tomorrow will bring.”->Chapter11_16v3]]

“Right then,” Heron jumps to his feet and starts heading up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any time.” “That guard better do his damn job,” Ferret grumbles as she follows him. “Can’t believe I’m trusting-” She stops and looks around. Realizing that the guard hasn’t budged, she yells in exasperation, “Hey, you! Old guy!” The guard doesn’t seem to have heard her, his eyes once again on the books. “G-whatever the hell your number is, we haven’t got all night!” He startles and looks around, as if there’s another old guard hiding in the bunker. Ferret waves her arms in agitation. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get the hairy bear man moving!” You chuckle and grab the guard’s arm, pulling him toward the stairwell. “Come on, bear man. You’re with us now.” He follows you up, a small smile on his face. “Bear?” “I think she just named you.” Ferret misses a step and stumbles, and you almost collide with her. You press your hand firmly to her back to get her moving again. “I did *not* name the guard,” she snaps, looking affronted. At the top of the stairs you hear a sharp cackle as Heron exclaims, “You named Papa Bear!” “Shut the fuck up, Heron!” You emerge from the bunker to find Robin and Lion tossing handfuls of sand on the fire in the nearby pit. At your questioning look, Lion explains, “I do not want the guard to have ideas about burning the books.” “Good idea.” You move to help but right then Robin tosses one large handful and the flames sputter and die. The circle is cast in hazy shadows, and you blink as your eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s not absolute—the horizon glows like a false dawn from the distant pits. Robin sighs, the sound one of relief and finality. “That fire has never gone out before.” “A night for many changes,” you murmur. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] Lion rests his hand at your back—his grip is warm, but you detect a light tremor. “Please be careful, my healer.” He swallows tightly, his brow drawn in concern. You wrap your arms around him, one hand reaching up to cradle his head as you draw it against yours, your foreheads touching. “You, too.” You hold like that, relishing his touch, both of you drawing strength from the other. Then you press your lips to his in a brief kiss before stepping back. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You feel a light touch on your shoulder. As you turn Robin falls into your arms, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Please be safe,” they murmur against your skin. “I will, dearest.” You wrap your arms tight around them, planting a soft kiss atop their head. “You be careful, too.” You can feel them nodding against your neck. They squeeze you one last time before pulling back, their gaze meeting yours. They offer you a small smile, anxious, yet hopeful. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] You level your gaze on Robin and Lion. “You two be safe, alright?” Your heart clenches with the thought of harm coming to either of them—the fear coats your throat and you tamp it down to get the words out, “There’s no telling how the other workers will react. Don’t push, say what you need, and come back as soon as you can. Hopefully with a few hundred in tow.” Lion grips your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze, while Robin nods resolutely beside him. “You stay safe, as well. We will join you soon.” [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You level your gaze on Robin and Lion. “You two be safe, alright?” Your heart clenches with the thought of harm coming to either of them—the fear coats your throat and you tamp it down to get the words out, “There’s no telling how the other workers will react. Don’t push, say what you need, and come back as soon as you can. Hopefully with a few hundred in tow.” Lion grips your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze, while Robin nods resolutely beside him. “You stay safe, as well. We will join you soon.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] You level your gaze on Robin and Lion. “You two be safe, alright?” Your heart clenches with the thought of harm coming to either of them—the fear coats your throat and you tamp it down to get the words out, “There’s no telling how the other workers will react. Don’t push, say what you need, and come back as soon as you can. Hopefully with a few hundred in tow.” Lion grips your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze, while Robin nods resolutely beside him. “You stay safe, as well. We will join you soon.” [continue] “That goes for everyone.” You look at each worker in turn, making sure to include Bear in your words. [align left] > [[“Remember why we’re doing this,” you implore, your voice earnest. “It’s not about the guard or the chamber or even books. This is about life.”->Chapter11_17v1]] > [[“I refuse to lose anyone else to this city,” you assert, your voice cutting. “People are suffering, people who have no voice. Tonight, we must be their voice.”->Chapter11_17v2]] > [[“We have made it this far together,” you profess, your voice proud. “We have accomplished amazing things. And I can not wait to see what tomorrow will bring.”->Chapter11_17v3]]

The guard blinks at the professed hand, then slowly reaches forward to clasp it. “Good to meet you, too.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the builder. “I’ve seen you around,” he murmurs. Then he squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” “More than my own life,” Lion replies instantly, his voice brokering no doubt. He glances briefly at you. “I love {name}. I will do everything in my power to keep {gender_3rdPronoun} safe, you can be certain of that.” “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Getting those three out of the way is a good idea. Dangerous, but good.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_19]]

Later that afternoon, you have just returned from the feeding station and are busy mixing and replenishing your medicines. You don’t know what will happen tonight, and it’s good to be prepared. Your last remaining set of shelves is stocked full of ointments, salves, and tonics of all types. You’re just squeezing the last vial onto the top shelf when a noise interrupts your work—a brief, sharp wail that stops you in your tracks. It’s a man’s voice, harsh and pained. Then a whimper follows, a soft, feminine voice, and a muffled sob. The voices are coming from the room across the hall from yours, assigned to a young, 15 year old female healer, newly on her own after her mentor succumbed to disease. Your feet move of their own accord—rushing through the door before skidding to a stop. A male worker, a builder, is sitting on the cot, his left shoulder bruised and deformed. He’s trying to keep his injured arm straight at his side, but he’s shaking and breathing hard, grunting in pain. The young healer, a blond-haired, slender thing, is standing at his side with her hands on his arm. Tears are streaming down her face and she looks as scared as her patient when she sees you. You let out your breath when you realize what’s happening. The man’s shoulder has been dislocated, and the young girl is either too weak or too scared to move it back into place properly. You smile kindly at the young healer, who recognizes you. She hiccups and hurriedly wipes the tears from her cheeks. You step forward to help but when you come abreast of the two workers, both eyeing you expectantly, you pause, your thoughts in a whirl. You can fix the man’s shoulder yourself, or you can instruct the young healer, talk her through it as you do so. Speaking in front of strangers is risky, especially now, but maybe… it’s an opportunity? The choice feels weightier than it should, significant, like a precursor to the encounter that awaits you tonight. [align left] > [[You speak.->Chapter11_19v1]] > [[You speak, but keep your words short and clipped so as not to arouse suspicion.->Chapter11_19v2]] > [[You silently help the man. There’s too much at stake now.->Chapter11_19v3]]

Guard G-72 shifts his gaze between the two of you before settling on Heron. “Good to meet you, too.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the feeder. “I remember you,” he murmurs. “You were that boy in the nursery.” Heron nods and the guard squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” “I love {gender_3rdPronoun},” Heron replies instantly, his voice brokering no doubt. He glances briefly at you. “Always have, always will. I will follow {gender_3rdPronoun} anywhere,” he smiles wryly, “even out of The City.” “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Getting those three out of the way is a good idea. Dangerous, but good.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_19]]

sound.ambient.love.url: 'Audio/love.mp3' sound.ambient.love.description: 'hopeful joyous music that builds' -- {ambient sound: 'love'} Their words release something inside you, something hopeful and yearning. You’re touched by their trust in you, by the adoration and determination in their gaze, and your heartbeat quickens. “I love you, too, Robin, more than anything. I love your optimism and thoughtfulness, the way you genuinely care for others, the possibilities you see.” You lean against their chest and smile at them, running the pad of your thumb over their fingers. “And if you truly are okay with it, I would like nothing more than to be with you tonight.” Their expression shifts into one of joyous relief. “Good, that’s good.” Their words tumble out upon a giddy laugh, then their eyes soften and they angle their head up to yours. “I’m so glad.” Your lips meet once, then again, both of you smiling into the kiss. “We should probably head for the clinic,” you murmur against their lips. “Oh!” That adorable blush peeks from beneath the ash. “Yes, good point.” You quickly make your way back to the clinic, hands clasped, both of you stealing glances at the other along the way—Robin blushing furiously when they’re caught, and you smiling till your cheeks ache. You scamper up the stairs and into the clinic room, the air thrumming with shy expectation. Once you’re in the room you carefully close the door behind you, then turn to see Robin eyeing the cot in the center of the room. They’re worrying their bottom lip between their teeth, their right hand tapping an irregular pattern against their hip. They draw in a deep breath, close their eyes, and whisper, “Alright, I can do this.” Their voice is so soft, so hesitant, you don’t think you were intended to hear it. You’re reminded of the morning you first received your duty—when a trio of guard stared you down, ready to announce your fate. You were afraid, reluctant. Helpless. That moment defined your future, but it had little to do with you. You only wanted to flee, to be done with it as quickly as possible. Robin looks poised to flee. They let out their breath in a whoosh and turn to you, crossing the room in three long strides. As they move they tug their shirt up over their head, fumbling with the layers, one arm caught in a sleeve. Finally freeing themself, they toss their shirt hurriedly to the side as they reach for you. You thrust your palm flat against Robin’s chest, forcing them to stumble to a halt. They draw in a sharp breath and drop their arms, their eyes darting back and forth between your hand and your face, their confusion evident. “Robin, relax,” you soothe. “Don’t push yourself.” “I’m alright, don’t worry about me. I mean it, I want to be with you.” The nervous tapping of their hand belies the assertion in their words, their body and their heart speaking two different languages. “I want you, too, dearest, but I don’t want whatever *this* is.” With your free hand you gesture to the shirt and scarf tossed haphazardly on the floor. “I want to do this because it’s something we both crave, because it’s loving and special, and because we *both* deserve happiness. It’s not a means of escape.” “But it is,” they choke out. “That memory of the chamber haunts me, and I don’t want it to linger over me any longer. I don’t want that to be all there is. I *hate* living in fear, but more than that, I hate the idea that I will never know another way. If I don’t do this…” Their voice cracks with the weight of their confession. “Don’t let the fear lead us.” You take a step forward, your hand still maintaining the distance between your bodies, your eyes fixed on theirs. “You said you choose us. So, concentrate on that. Just you and I. Right now.” “I don’t-I don’t know how to do that.” “Just breathe, dearest.” You take a deep breath in through your nose, then let it heave over your lips. “Just like that. Breathe with me.” Robin swallows and nods their head, their shoulders tense. You draw in a deep breath and they follow suit, then release it slowly. You take several more slow breaths, your hand rising and falling with each measured movement of Robin’s chest. You note your {skin_color} fingers against Robin’s fair skin, their naked chest pleasantly devoid of ash. You study their body as you breathe. They have a beautiful form, all supple curves and graceful lines. Your eyes linger over the delicate, sinewy line of their collarbone peppered in freckles, the toned contours of their arms, the slender curve of their waist. When you raise your eyes you find Robin watching you, a ginger half-smile on their face. They raise their hand to your chest, palm up, pausing an inch away from you. “May I?” they ask. You nod and they carefully part the folds of your collar, then lay their palm against your bare skin. The two of you continue breathing steadily, and you can see Robin’s shoulders dip as they relax, their hand rising and falling with your even breathing. The anxiousness in their expression melts away, their jaw unclenching, lips parted. You trace your hand up along their collarbone, out toward their shoulders, then back following the graceful curve of their neck. You thread your fingers into their hair and a noise somewhere between a moan and a purr escapes their lips. Robin’s eyes narrow, specks of bronze dancing amidst the brown and green, and they lean forward and claim your lips. They kiss you as they tease their fingers along your hips, the trepidation from earlier replaced with a quiet need. Every shudder that wracks your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, seems to embolden them further. Up till now you were cautious in your affection, apprehensive of their comfort, but their touch threatens to undo your composure. Your grip in their hair tightens and you pull, gently and deliberately. Their mouth breaks from yours on a gasp as they tilt their head back, exposing the elegant bend of their neck. You kiss their neck, gently at first, then you suck their skin into your mouth. “Oh, {name}…" You kiss the tender spot of skin and pull away. “Is this okay?” “Yes, please, don’t stop.” Robin throws their arms about your shoulders, tugging you hard against them. You lose your balance and stumble, the both of you tripping over each other’s legs as you fall in a tangled mess of limbs upon the cot. You quickly raise yourself up on one knee, your hands roving over Robin’s slender form beneath you. “Are you alright-” You’re interrupted by a snort, then a bright, jubilant snicker. Robin covers their mouth with their hands, their laughter muffled, their eyes alight with mirth. You raise an eyebrow and they snort again behind their hand, their shoulders quivering. “I’m sorry,” they chortle, dropping their hands to their chest. “That was less than graceful.” You chuckle and look down at them, admiring the way their curls fan out in a fiery halo around their head. Their eyes dance, their smile relaxed and easy, their freckles visible where the ash has rubbed off. “You are beautiful, dearest,” you murmur. [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, reaching up to stroke your bare head, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You are my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [else] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, curling their fingers into your hair, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You are my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs. “I love you,” they breathe against your lips. [continue] This time when you kiss Robin it feels like something has shifted within both of you, like something was uncaged in that moment when you fell upon the cot. Like the tight fear that coiled around you snapped, shattered, freeing you. And what remains are endless possibilities—immense and buoyant and dizzyingly bright. Like falling into the sky. Robin kneads the nape of your neck, their touch gentle, confirming. Claiming. You tease their mouth open with your tongue and they greet it with their own, caressing and exploring, a moan rumbling deep from the base of their throat. They break from you, lifting their free hand to cup your face. Their expression shifts from amazed to besotted, as if you’re another treasure they’ve saved from the pits, a delight for no one but them. “{name}, this is… I want…” Then they laugh, the sound keen and breathy. “I don’t know what to do next.” You return the laugh, the sound escaping you on a relieved shudder. “I don’t know either, dearest.” You stretch out your legs and lower your body closer, your chest grazing theirs. “But we can discover that together.” “I would like that,” they murmur, their hands resuming their exploration, settling on your hips. “I would like that very much.” And so you do. Every kiss is an affirmation, every moan a new delight. You explore each others bodies and relish each sensation, certain that this is the way it’s supposed to feel—to give and receive, your hearts beating a chorus together. This is where you are safe. [[This is what it means to love.->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv2v1]]

Their words unlock something inside you, something hopeful and jubilant. “I love you, too, Robin, more than anything.” You lean against their chest and smile at them, running the pad of your thumb over their fingers. “I love your optimism and thoughtfulness, the way you genuinely care for others, the possibilities you see. And I’m flattered, truly, that you trust me enough to take that step.” You bite your bottom lip, your fingers interlocking behind their back. “But I don’t want that. If I did, I would choose you, too, I would, but-” They detangle their hand from yours to place a finger against your lips, silencing your words. “You don’t have to explain, {name}. I understand better than anyone.” Their expression shifts into one of joyous relief and a happy, pleased laugh tumbles from their lips. “I’m simply overjoyed that you feel the same. That you love me. I’m so glad.” Their laugh is contagious and you join in, resting your forehead against theirs once more. “I wouldn’t say no to another sleepover, though, if you’d like,” you murmur, your breath tickling their skin. “I just want to hold you.” “Oh!” That adorable blush peeks from beneath the ash. “Definitely.” You quickly make your way back to the clinic, hands clasped, both of you stealing glances at the other—Robin blushing furiously when they’re caught, and you smiling till your cheeks ache. You scamper up the stairs and into the clinic room, your skin tingling at the warm grip of their fingers entwined with yours. Once you’re in the room you carefully close the door behind you, then turn to see Robin eyeing the cot in the center of the room. They cast a shy glance your way, then hold out their hand. You grasp it and they walk backward toward the cot, pulling you along. They lay on their back and you climb in over them, your arms boxing them in on either side. You look down at them, admiring the way their curls fan out in a fiery halo around their head. Their eyes dance, their smile relaxed and easy, their freckles visible where the ash has rubbed off. “You are beautiful, dearest,” you murmur. [if hairstyle === 'shaved'] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, reaching up to stroke your bare head, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You’re my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs, till your foreheads touch. “I love you,” they breathe in the space between your lips. [else] “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” they purr, curling their fingers into your hair, their nails scraping your scalp, their gaze adoring. “You’re my light. With you, it’s like I’m seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. You are brave and lovely and brilliant. You are everything to me.” Their hand shifts to your neck and you yield to the pressure as they guide your head down to theirs, till your foreheads touch. “I love you,” they breathe in the space between your lips. [continue] Your arms begin to tremble till you can no longer hold yourself poised like that, so you settle down onto the cot beside them and they shift to face you. They throw their arm over your hip, nuzzling into your neck as you cradle their head in your arms. You kiss the top of their head, their curls tickling your cheek, and they murmur something incoherent, their voice muffled into your skin. You stroke their hair and they murmur again, their arm tightening about you. “Is everything alright?” you venture softly. Robin doesn’t move for a moment, and a niggle of fear worms its way into your chest. Just as you start to squirm with unease, they lift their head. Their eyes are a bright emerald and copper, and they glisten with unshed tears. The niggle of fear grows before you realize they’re smiling—wholly, unabashedly smiling, their teeth flashing in the moonlight. You’ve never seen them look so beautiful, and you’re struck silent. “You’re my wind,” they tell you. “I… what?” “You’ve seen the pits, you know the smoke always hangs in the air. It’s suffocating. But sometimes, a strong wind will come in and blow the smoke away.” Their hand glides against you as they speak, following the curve of your hips up to your waist, along your chest, your neck, till finally settling upon your cheek. “And for a moment, I can see the blue sky. It’s huge and bright, and I know that there’s more beyond those pits. There’s something greater out there. And it’s beautiful.” They touch their nose to yours. “You’re my wind.” You release a shuddering breath, your chest full with the force of your emotions. You have no words, but you’re pretty sure the smile on your face mirrors theirs. You lean forward and plant a gentle kiss on their forehead. Robin hums happily before burrowing back into the crook of your neck, and you pull them closer. You lay quietly for a time, Robin tracing patterns on your hip, your fingers threading their hair. “You’re going to be meeting with that guard tomorrow morning, right?” they eventually ask, their voice heavy with drowsiness. “I want to be there, too.” “I’d love to have you with me, dearest,” you reply with a yawn. They murmur a sleepy response. It sounds something like “I want to always be with you,” but you’re too tired to focus on their words. [[The both of you drift into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv5]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Lion stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. His posture is rigid—his legs braced apart, his arms folded across his chest, his expression severe. The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the builder beside you. You lean toward Lion and whisper, “You’re doing the big, bad builder thing. Can you relax your shoulders at all? Just...” You make a gesture of lowering your hand. He frowns and drops his arms, stooping a little in a futile effort to make himself look less imposing. You swallow your grin before approaching the guard. “G-72, this is Lion, my friend.” Lion’s expression shifts, the severity softening into a solemn fondness. “It is good to finally meet you, G-72.” He holds his hand out to the guard—the gesture is odd, his hand perpendicular to the ground, not outstretched like he sometimes does to you. You recall reading about handshakes and wonder if this is what Lion is attempting. The guard blinks at the professed hand, then slowly reaches forward to clasp it. “Good to meet you, too.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the builder. “I’ve seen you around,” he murmurs. The guard shifts his attention back to you. “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Destroying the weapons is a good start.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_13]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Lion stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. His posture is rigid—his legs braced apart, his arms folded across his chest, his expression severe. The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the builder beside you. You lean toward Lion and whisper, “You’re doing the big, bad builder thing. Can you relax your shoulders at all? Just...” You make a gesture of lowering your hand. He frowns and drops his arms, stooping a little in a futile effort to make himself look less imposing. You swallow your grin before approaching the guard. “G-72, this is Lion, my friend.” Lion’s expression shifts, the severity softening into a solemn fondness. “It is good to finally meet you, G-72.” He holds his hand out to the guard—the gesture is odd, his hand perpendicular to the ground, not outstretched like he sometimes does to you. You recall reading about handshakes and wonder if this is what Lion is attempting. The guard blinks at the professed hand, then slowly reaches forward to clasp it. “Good to meet you, too.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the builder. “I’ve seen you around,” he murmurs. The guard shifts his attention back to you. “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Getting those three out of the way is a good idea. Dangerous, but good.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_19]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Robin stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. They cross their arms over their chest, then uncross them and drop them at their sides. Then clasp them behind their back. They shuffle from one foot to the other, stretching their neck to try to see around the corner of the building. “You don’t have to worry,” you assure them. “No one else will find us here.” “I’m not worried about that,” they tell you, fiddling with the cuff of their sleeve. “What if he doesn’t like me?” “Dearest, no one can *not* like you.” They smile at that, their shoulders relaxing. The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the burner beside you. You step toward the guard and gesture at Robin beside you. “G-72, this is Robin, my…” you trail off as you search for the right word. Robin tilts their head and watches you, curious to see how you’ll end that sentence. [align left] > [[“Partner.”->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv6]] > [["Love."->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv7]] > [["Dearest."->Chapter11_Escape_Robinv8]]

It's silence in the Circle. This time it is not a grief-stricken silence, nor even a fearful one. More of an awkward, elephant-in-the-room silence. Or rather, guard in the room. Not that G-72 seems to notice. You had barely finished introductions when his attention was caught by the piles of books, where it has since remained, his expression shifting from disbelief to worry to wonder. [if hasFather] You clear your throat. “G-72. Dad!” [else] You clear your throat. “G-72.” [continue] He blinks, his {eye_color} eyes shifting into focus. “What?” Lion chuckles, and the rich vibrato alleviates the tension in the room. “He must be your father. You two had the same reaction.” Ferret crosses her arms with a huff, her foot tapping on the floor. “As charming as this is, if we’re doing this tonight we need to get moving. Are we dealing with the three leaders first, or what?” “I think we should gather everything we need first, so we’re ready to run if necessary,” you say, “but then yes, we can draw out those three and ambush them.” Your gaze shifts to the old guard. “Can you help with that?” The guard glances at Ferret, then swallows and answers, “I can draw them out of the hall. I’ll tell them… I don’t know, that there’s a disturbance somewhere.” “Lead them here,” you say, gesturing to the book piles. “Tell them about the bunker and the books.” “Is that wise?” Robin asks, eyeing the books. “They won't set foot in this room,” you promise. “We'll be waiting for them upstairs.” “Remember, those three are always armed,” the guard warns. “Be prepared for a hard fight.” “We will arm ourselves, as well, with tools from the building site,” Lion suggests. “Has anyone thought about how we’re actually getting out of The City?” Heron asks. “How are we getting over the wall?” “I have a way.” From under the table Lion pulls out a hooked, claw-like piece of iron with a long rope attached to the end. “I made a grappling hook we can use to scale the wall.” You look at the oddly familiar contraption. Then you lift your gaze to the surrounding room, circling the walls till you find a jagged hole where one of the candle holders used to be. “How did you get it out?” you ask, astonished. “I pulled it out.” “You pulled it? Out of the wall?” “Yes.” Heron pokes at Lion’s biceps. “I’m rethinking the rebellion option.” It’s decided that you will all go to the workshop first to grab bags and pouches to carry supplies. From there you will split into teams of two to gather the remaining provisions. Your team will head for the clinic to gather medicine. Who do you take with you? [align left] > [[Lion->Chapter11_22]] > [[Heron->Chapter11_23]] > [[Ferret->Chapter11_24]] > [[Robin->Chapter11_25]] > [[G-72->Chapter11_26]]

You and Lion will stock up on medicine. Heron and Robin will gather food, seeds, and water. Ferret and G-72 will remain at the workshop to gather clothes and blankets, before moving on to the building site for tools. “Right then,” Heron jumps to his feet and starts heading up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time.” “That guard better do his damn job,” Ferret grumbles as she follows him. “Can’t believe I’m trusting-” She stops and looks around. Realizing that the guard hasn’t budged, she yells in exasperation, “Hey, you! Old guy!” The guard doesn’t seem to have heard her, his eyes once again on the books. “G-whatever the hell your number is, we haven’t got all night!” He startles and looks around, as if there’s another old guard hiding in the bunker. Ferret waves her arms in agitation. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get the hairy bear man moving!” You chuckle and grab the guard’s arm, pulling him toward the stairwell. “Come on, bear man. You’re with us now.” He follows you up, a small smile on his face. “Bear?” “I think she just named you.” Ferret misses a step and stumbles, and you almost collide with her. You press your hand firmly to her back to get her moving again. “I did *not* name the guard,” she snaps, looking affronted. You hear a sharp laugh from the top of the stairs as Heron cackles, “You named Papa Bear!” “Shut the fuck up, Heron!” You do not replace the stairs after everyone has emerged from the bunker. The hole in the platform beckons like a giant maw, silently screaming its secrets to the night. Robin sighs, the sound one of relief and finality. “We’ve never left that open before.” “A night for many changes,” you murmur. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] Heron slides a hand around your waist and presses close. “Hey. You be careful, okay?” His expression is calm, but his voice trembles. You lean forward and kiss him, the movement brief, but you linger there. “You, too,” you speak against his lips. He kisses you again before pulling away. You hold his gaze, gathering strength from the glimmer in his eyes, the resolute line of his mouth. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You feel a hand slip into yours and grip firmly. Ferret rests her cheek against yours, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “You better fucking be okay, you hear me?” You smile against her cheek. “Only if you promise the same,” you return. She kisses you in response, hard, then pulls away, her eyes steel, her posture resolute. You squeeze her hand before letting go. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You feel a light touch on your shoulder. As you turn Robin falls into your arms, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Please be safe,” they murmur against your skin. “I will, dearest.” You wrap your arms tight around them, planting a soft kiss atop their head. “You be careful, too.” You can feel them nodding against your neck. They squeeze you one last time before pulling back, their gaze meeting yours. They offer you a small smile—anxious, yet hopeful. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [continue] “Everyone be careful, alright?” You look at each worker in turn, making sure to include Bear in your words. [align left] > [[“Remember, there’s a much bigger world beyond that wall,” you implore, your voice earnest. “This isn’t everything; there is so much more to life than what we have here.”->Chapter11_22v1]] > [[“This city has taken too much from us,” you assert, your voice cutting. “Our voices. Our friends. Our freedom. That ends tonight.”->Chapter11_22v2]] > [[“We have made it this far together,” you profess, your voice proud. “We have accomplished amazing things. And I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.”->Chapter11_22v3]]

You and Heron will stock up on medicine. Robin and G-72 will gather food, seeds, and water. Lion and Ferret will remain at the workshop to gather clothes and blankets, before moving on to the building site for tools. “Right then,” Heron jumps to his feet and starts heading up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time.” “That guard better do his damn job,” Ferret grumbles as she follows him. “Can’t believe I’m trusting-” She stops and looks around. Realizing that the guard hasn’t budged, she yells in exasperation, “Hey, you! Old guy!” The guard doesn’t seem to have heard her, his eyes once again on the books. “G-whatever the hell your number is, we haven’t got all night!” He startles and looks around, as if there’s another old guard hiding in the bunker. Ferret waves her arms in agitation. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get the hairy bear man moving!” You chuckle and grab the guard’s arm, pulling him toward the stairwell. “Come on, bear man. You’re with us now.” He follows you up, a small smile on his face. “Bear?” “I think she just named you.” Ferret misses a step and stumbles, and you almost collide with her. You press your hand firmly to her back to get her moving again. “I did *not* name the guard,” she snaps, looking affronted. You hear a sharp laugh from the top of the stairs as Heron cackles, “You named Papa Bear!” “Shut the fuck up, Heron!” You do not replace the stairs after everyone has emerged from the bunker. The hole in the platform beckons like a giant maw, silently screaming its secrets to the night. Robin sighs, the sound one of relief and finality. “We’ve never left that open before.” “A night for many changes,” you murmur. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] Lion rests his hand at your back—his grip is warm, but you detect a light tremor. “Please be careful, my healer.” He swallows tightly, his brow drawn in concern. You wrap your arms around him, one hand reaching up to cradle his head as you draw it against yours, your foreheads touching. “You, too.” You hold like that, relishing his touch, both of you drawing strength from the other. Then you press your lips to his in a brief kiss before stepping back. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You feel a hand slip into yours and grip firmly. Ferret rests her cheek against yours, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “You better fucking be okay, you hear me?” You smile against her cheek. “Only if you promise the same,” you return. She kisses you in response, hard, then pulls away, her eyes steel, her posture resolute. You squeeze her hand before letting go. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You feel a light touch on your shoulder. As you turn Robin falls into your arms, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Please be safe,” they murmur against your skin. “I will, dearest.” You wrap your arms tight around them, planting a soft kiss atop their head. “You be careful, too.” You can feel them nodding against your neck. They squeeze you one last time before pulling back, their gaze meeting yours. They offer you a small smile—anxious, yet hopeful. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [continue] “Everyone be careful, alright?” You look at each worker in turn, making sure to include Bear in your words. [align left] > [[“Remember, there’s a much bigger world beyond that wall,” you implore, your voice earnest. “This isn’t everything; there is so much more to life than what we have here.”->Chapter11_23v1]] > [[“This city has taken too much from us,” you assert, your voice cutting. “Our voices. Our friends. Our freedom. That ends tonight.”->Chapter11_23v2]] > [[“We have made it this far together,” you profess, your voice proud. “We have accomplished amazing things. And I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.”->Chapter11_23v3]]

You and Ferret will stock up on medicine. Heron and Robin will gather food, seeds, and water. Lion and G-72 will remain at the workshop to gather clothes and blankets, before moving on to the building site for tools. “Right then,” Heron jumps to his feet and starts heading up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time.” “That guard better do his damn job,” Ferret grumbles as she follows him. “Can’t believe I’m trusting-” She stops and looks around. Realizing that the guard hasn’t budged, she yells in exasperation, “Hey, you! Old guy!” The guard doesn’t seem to have heard her, his eyes once again on the books. “G-whatever the hell your number is, we haven’t got all night!” He startles and looks around, as if there’s another old guard hiding in the bunker. Ferret waves her arms in agitation. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get the hairy bear man moving!” You chuckle and grab the guard’s arm, pulling him toward the stairwell. “Come on, bear man. You’re with us now.” He follows you up, a small smile on his face. “Bear?” “I think she just named you.” Ferret misses a step and stumbles, and you almost collide with her. You press your hand firmly to her back to get her moving again. “I did *not* name the guard,” she snaps, looking affronted. You hear a sharp laugh from the top of the stairs as Heron cackles, “You named Papa Bear!” “Shut the fuck up, Heron!” You do not replace the stairs after everyone has emerged from the bunker. The hole in the platform beckons like a giant maw, silently screaming its secrets to the night. Robin sighs, the sound one of relief and finality. “We’ve never left that open before.” “A night for many changes,” you murmur. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] Lion rests his hand at your back—his grip is warm, but you detect a light tremor. “Please be careful, my healer.” He swallows tightly, his brow drawn in concern. You wrap your arms around him, one hand reaching up to cradle his head as you draw it against yours, your foreheads touching. “You, too.” You hold like that, relishing his touch, both of you drawing strength from the other. Then you press your lips to his in a brief kiss before stepping back. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] Heron slides a hand around your waist and presses close. “Hey. You be careful, okay?” His expression is calm, but his voice trembles. You lean forward and kiss him, the movement brief, but you linger there. “You, too,” you speak against his lips. He kisses you again before pulling away. You hold his gaze, gathering strength from the glimmer in his eyes, the resolute line of his mouth. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You feel a light touch on your shoulder. As you turn Robin falls into your arms, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Please be safe,” they murmur against your skin. “I will, dearest.” You wrap your arms tight around them, planting a soft kiss atop their head. “You be careful, too.” You can feel them nodding against your neck. They squeeze you one last time before pulling back, their gaze meeting yours. They offer you a small smile—anxious, yet hopeful. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [continue] “Everyone be careful, alright?” You look at each worker in turn, making sure to include Bear in your words. [align left] > [[“Remember, there’s a much bigger world beyond that wall,” you implore, your voice earnest. “This isn’t everything; there is so much more to life than what we have here.”->Chapter11_24v1]] > [[“This city has taken too much from us,” you assert, your voice cutting. “Our voices. Our friends. Our freedom. That ends tonight.”->Chapter11_24v2]] > [[“We have made it this far together,” you profess, your voice proud. “We have accomplished amazing things. And I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.”->Chapter11_24v3]]

You and Robin will stock up on medicine. Heron and G-72 will gather food, seeds, and water. Lion and Ferret will remain at the workshop to gather clothes and blankets, before moving on to the building site for tools. “Right then,” Heron jumps to his feet and starts heading up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time.” “That guard better do his damn job,” Ferret grumbles as she follows him. “Can’t believe I’m trusting-” She stops and looks around. Realizing that the guard hasn’t budged, she yells in exasperation, “Hey, you! Old guy!” The guard doesn’t seem to have heard her, his eyes once again on the books. “G-whatever the hell your number is, we haven’t got all night!” He startles and looks around, as if there’s another old guard hiding in the bunker. Ferret waves her arms in agitation. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get the hairy bear man moving!” You chuckle and grab the guard’s arm, pulling him toward the stairwell. “Come on, bear man. You’re with us now.” He follows you up, a small smile on his face. “Bear?” “I think she just named you.” Ferret misses a step and stumbles, and you almost collide with her. You press your hand firmly to her back to get her moving again. “I did *not* name the guard,” she snaps, looking affronted. You hear a sharp laugh from the top of the stairs as Heron cackles, “You named Papa Bear!” “Shut the fuck up, Heron!” You do not replace the stairs after everyone has emerged from the bunker. The hole in the platform beckons like a giant maw, silently screaming its secrets to the night. Robin sighs, the sound one of relief and finality. “We’ve never left that open before.” “A night for many changes,” you murmur. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] Lion rests his hand at your back—his grip is warm, but you detect a light tremor. “Please be careful, my healer.” He swallows tightly, his brow drawn in concern. You wrap your arms around him, one hand reaching up to cradle his head as you draw it against yours, your foreheads touching. “You, too.” You hold like that, relishing his touch, both of you drawing strength from the other. Then you press your lips to his in a brief kiss before stepping back. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] Heron slides a hand around your waist and presses close. “Hey. You be careful, okay?” His expression is calm, but his voice trembles. You lean forward and kiss him, the movement brief, but you linger there. “You, too,” you speak against his lips. He kisses you again before pulling away. You hold his gaze, gathering strength from the glimmer in his eyes, the resolute line of his mouth. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You feel a hand slip into yours and grip firmly. Ferret rests her cheek against yours, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “You better fucking be okay, you hear me?” You smile against her cheek. “Only if you promise the same,” you return. She kisses you in response, hard, then pulls away, her eyes steel, her posture resolute. You squeeze her hand before letting go. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] A voice coughs beside you and you turn to find Bear watching you. He lifts his hand toward you, then rethinks it, and instead rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. For, um, for letting me be a part of this.” When he smiles, the wrinkles on his cheeks disappear beneath his beard. “Thanks for letting me get to know you.” You smile back at him. “This isn’t goodbye, Bear. Be careful tonight.” [continue] “Everyone be careful, alright?” You look at each worker in turn, making sure to include Bear in your words. [align left] > [[“Remember, there’s a much bigger world beyond that wall,” you implore, your voice earnest. “This isn’t everything; there is so much more to life than what we have here.”->Chapter11_25v1]] > [[“This city has taken too much from us,” you assert, your voice cutting. “Our voices. Our friends. Our freedom. That ends tonight.”->Chapter11_25v2]] > [[“We have made it this far together,” you profess, your voice proud. “We have accomplished amazing things. And I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.”->Chapter11_25v3]]

You and G-72 will stock up on medicine. Heron and Robin will gather food, seeds, and water. Lion and Ferret will remain at the workshop to gather clothes and blankets, before moving on to the building site for tools. “Right then,” Heron jumps to his feet and starts heading up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time.” “That guard better do his damn job,” Ferret grumbles as she follows him. “Can’t believe I’m trusting-” She stops and looks around. Realizing that the guard hasn’t budged, she yells in exasperation, “Hey, you! Old guy!” The guard doesn’t seem to have heard her, his eyes once again on the books. “G-whatever the hell your number is, we haven’t got all night!” He startles and looks around, as if there’s another old guard hiding in the bunker. Ferret waves her arms in agitation. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get the hairy bear man moving!” You chuckle and grab the guard’s arm, pulling him toward the stairwell. “Come on, bear man. You’re with us now.” He follows you up, a small smile on his face. “Bear?” “I think she just named you.” Ferret misses a step and stumbles, and you almost collide with her. You press your hand firmly to her back to get her moving again. “I did *not* name the guard,” she snaps, looking affronted. You hear a sharp laugh from the top of the stairs as Heron cackles, “You named Papa Bear!” “Shut the fuck up, Heron!” You do not replace the stairs after everyone has emerged from the bunker. The hole in the platform beckons like a giant maw, silently screaming its secrets to the night. Robin sighs, the sound one of relief and finality. “We’ve never left that open before.” “A night for many changes,” you murmur. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] Lion rests his hand at your back—his grip is warm, but you detect a light tremor. “Please be careful, my healer.” He swallows tightly, his brow drawn in concern. You wrap your arms around him, one hand reaching up to cradle his head as you draw it against yours, your foreheads touching. “You, too.” You hold like that, relishing his touch, both of you drawing strength from the other. Then you press your lips to his in a brief kiss before stepping back. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] Heron slides a hand around your waist and presses close. “Hey. You be careful, okay?” His expression is calm, but his voice trembles. You lean forward and kiss him, the movement brief, but you linger there. “You, too,” you speak against his lips. He kisses you again before pulling away. You hold his gaze, gathering strength from the glimmer in his eyes, the resolute line of his mouth. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You feel a hand slip into yours and grip firmly. Ferret rests her cheek against yours, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “You better fucking be okay, you hear me?” You smile against her cheek. “Only if you promise the same,” you return. She kisses you in response, hard, then pulls away, her eyes steel, her posture resolute. You squeeze her hand before letting go. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You feel a light touch on your shoulder. As you turn Robin falls into your arms, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Please be safe,” they murmur against your skin. “I will, dearest.” You wrap your arms tight around them, planting a soft kiss atop their head. “You be careful, too.” You can feel them nod against your neck. They squeeze you one last time before pulling back, their gaze meeting yours. They offer you a small smile—anxious, yet hopeful. [if loveInterest === 'none'] “Everyone be careful, alright?” [continue] You look at each worker in turn, making sure to include Bear in your words. [align left] > [[“Remember, there’s a much bigger world beyond that wall,” you implore, your voice earnest. “This isn’t everything; there is so much more to life than what we have here.”->Chapter11_26v1]] > [[“This city has taken too much from us,” you assert, your voice cutting. “Our voices. Our friends. Our freedom. That ends tonight.”->Chapter11_26v2]] > [[“We have made it this far together,” you profess, your voice proud. “We have accomplished amazing things. And I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.”->Chapter11_26v3]]

“It’s about waking up every day without fearing it will be your last. It’s about walking the streets without keeping your head down. It’s the freedom to feel and to laugh and to dream. To have a choice.” Your hands clench into fists at your side. “Everyone has the right to live, to love, and to be heard. *That* is what we are accomplishing tonight. It’s time we break the silence. It’s time we lived.” The others nod resolutely. Your purpose is clear, your course charted. For better or worse, everything changes tonight. [[Begin Chapter 12->Journal299_01]]

“Tonight isn’t just about us. It’s about every worker—every mother and son and unborn child. It’s about Fawn and Bison.” Your hands clench into fists at your side. “We owe it to them, to everyone, to change this city. If we don’t stop the guard now, no one will. These people are worth fighting for. *We* are worth fighting for.” The others nod resolutely. Your purpose is clear, your course charted. For better or worse, everything changes tonight. [[Begin Chapter 12->Journal299_01]]

“This journey hasn’t been easy, and I couldn’t have done it without you. Together we’ve laughed, explored, loved, and grown. And we’ve cried.” Your hands clench into fists at your side. “But the one constant has been each other. Our Circle. And I know we will succeed tonight, because I believe in *us*.” The others nod resolutely. Your purpose is clear, your course charted. For better or worse, everything changes tonight. [[Begin Chapter 12->Journal299_01]]

“I’m tired of having no control over my life. Of letting the guard determine my worth. It’s my turn, *our* turn, to choose. This is our chance to feel and to laugh and to dream. To be free.” Your hands clench into fists at your side. “*That* is what we are accomplishing tonight. We are choosing to live.” The others nod resolutely. Your purpose is clear, your course charted. For better or worse, everything changes tonight. [[Begin Chapter 12->Journal299_02]]

“This journey won’t be easy, but I know it can be done, as long as we stay together. You are my family—no matter where we are that doesn’t change.” Your hands clench into fists at your side. “The one constant has always been us. Our Circle. I know we will succeed tonight, because I believe in *us*.” The others nod resolutely. Your purpose is clear, your course charted. For better or worse, everything changes tonight. [[Begin Chapter 12->Journal299_02]]

“I know it may seem daunting, but remember why we’re doing this. Out there, we can go wherever we want, *be* whomever we want. I can’t even imagine what lies beyond those mountains. But I am so very ready to find out.” Your hands clench into fists at your side. “We’ve learned all we can here. We deserve more.” The others nod resolutely. Your purpose is clear, your course charted. For better or worse, everything changes tonight. [[Begin Chapter 12->Journal299_02]]

You smile at the completeness of it, at the way just uttering the word makes you feel whole. Just as Robin had been trying to find themself, so too had you. You are partners, two halves of one whole. You are perfect for each other, but more than that, you are perfect *with* each other. Robin grins widely, bouncing excitedly on the balls of their feet, before turning their happy gaze to the guard. “Yes, yes, that’s me. Pleased to meet you.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_Robinv9'}

You’re almost giddy at voicing it to another, of admitting the depth of feelings you have for them, knowing that they share those feelings. Your heart beats faster, the emotion overtaking you as you give it voice. A brilliant smile lights up Robin’s face, joy and bashfulness warring over their expression. They turn their happy gaze to the guard and squeak out, “Yes, yes, that’s me. Pleased to meet you.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_Robinv9'}

You can’t recall exactly what first prompted the word. Perhaps it was the way they sought you out that day in the rain—the same way they seek out the good in everything. Scared, but moving forward. Troubled, but hopeful. They taught you it is worth seeking the things that matter, the things you find *dear*. And nothing matters more than them. Something in the way you breathe the word gives your thoughts away. Robin flushes, their skin matching the sand, their eyes brimming with affection. They lean toward you without realizing it, their hand seeking yours, then turn to the guard and coo, “Yes, yes, that’s me. Pleased to meet you.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Escape_Robinv9'}

Guard G-72 shifts his perplexed gaze between the two of you before settling on Robin. “Nice to meet you.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the burner. “I remember you,” he murmurs. “I’ve seen you around the clinic.” Robin nods and the guard squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” “Yes, sir, I do,” Robin replies, their voice faltering over the honorific. They glance briefly at you and their smile deepens, their posture relaxing. “{name} is wonderful, and I love {gender_3rdPronoun} very much. I believe in {gender_3rdPronoun}.” “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Getting those three out of the way is a good idea. Dangerous, but good.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_19]]

You can’t recall exactly what first prompted the word. Perhaps it was the way they sought you out that day in the rain—the same way they seek out the good in everything. Scared, but moving forward. Troubled, but hopeful. They taught you it’s worth seeking the things that matter, the things you find *dear*. And nothing matters more than them. Something in the way you breathe the word gives your thoughts away. Robin flushes, their skin matching the sand, their eyes brimming with affection. They lean toward you without realizing it, their hand seeking yours, then turn to the guard and coo, “Yes, yes, that’s me. Pleased to meet you.” {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Robinv9'}

Guard G-72 shifts his perplexed gaze between the two of you before settling on Robin. “Nice to meet you.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the burner. “I remember you,” he murmurs. “I’ve seen you around the clinic.” Robin nods and the guard squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” “Yes, sir, I do,” Robin replies, their voice faltering over the honorific. They glance briefly at you and their smile deepens, their posture relaxing. “{name} is wonderful, and I love {gender_3rdPronoun} very much. I believe in {gender_3rdPronoun}.” “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Destroying the weapons is a good start.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_13]]

“Damn, you’re needy,” she sighs, her eyes fluttering closed. There’s no real complaint in her voice; on the contrary, she sounds rather pleased. “I am. Dreadfully. I need you with me.” She growls and grips you tightly. The sound is half-desirous, half-annoyance, and completely Ferret. After a moment you break away, smiling at her. Taking her hand in yours you resume your trek. She shoulders you playfully but then remains there, leaning into you as you walk, a smile ghosting her lips. [[Next->Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv3]]

“I thought we were being serious,” she says, her eyes fluttering closed. “Now you’re teasing me.” “I’m quite serious.” You hum against her skin and she shudders. “No, you’re…” The skin of her neck is soft and she sighs when you nibble it. She leans into your arms, her fingers raking your shoulders. “Damn it.” She angles her head and claims your mouth, her kiss demanding. You chuckle against her lips and she growls—the sound half-desirous, half-annoyance, and completely Ferret. After a moment you break away, smiling at her. Taking her hand in yours you resume your trek. She shoulders you playfully but then remains there, leaning into you as you walk, a smile ghosting her lips. [[Next->Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv3]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Ferret stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. You can tell she’s trying her best to keep calm, but her nostrils flare and she clenches and unclenches her hands. “If this makes you uncomfortable,” you begin to offer, “you can-” “No,” she bites out. She darts a look your way, her eyes rueful. “Sorry, I’m alright. This is just… weird.” “I understand, and I’m glad you’re here.” The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the sweeper beside you. Ferret immediately steps toward him, a hard edge to her gaze, and you hastily lay a hand upon her arm and pull her back. “I’m not going to hurt him,” she mumbles. “Hmm.” You approach the guard and gesture to Ferret beside you. “G-72, this is Ferret. She’s…” you trail off as you search for the right word. Ferret tilts her head and watches you, curious to see how you’ll end that sentence. [align left] > [[“My partner.”->Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv4]] > [["My love."->Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv5]] > [["Mine."->Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv6]]

It’s important that G-72 understands her importance, especially given how confrontational she’s being. While her approach may be different, her presence here carries the same weight as yours. You trust Ferret, believe in her. Whatever you do, you do together. Ferret’s expression shifts, the severity softening into a wry fondness. She shoves her hands into her pockets and tips her chin at the guard. “Hi.” Well, at least she’s talking. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv7'}

With Ferret, love isn’t the soft, swooning kind you’ve read about in some novels. It’s like copper—heavy and dense, but still malleable and pliant. It bolsters and elevates you, yet allows you room to grow. And that’s what Ferret is to you. Your sense of curiosity. Your strength. Your love. Ferret’s expression shifts, the severity softening into an appreciative fondness. She shoves her hands into her pockets and tips her chin at the guard. “Hi.” Well, at least she’s talking. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv7'}

It seems a simple word, but it conveys layers you can’t begin to voice. She’s everything you never knew you wanted, everything you didn’t know you were missing. She understands you, challenges you, incites and excites you. She’s your person. She’s yours. Ferret’s expression shifts, the severity softening into a pleased fondness. She glances away, her hair only partially hiding the flush on her cheeks. She coughs and shoves her hands into her pockets, tipping her chin at the guard. “Hi.” Well, at least she’s talking. {embed passage: 'Chapter11_Stay_Ferretv7'}

Guard G-72 shifts his gaze between the two of you before settling on Ferret. “Good to meet you.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the sweeper. “I know you,” he murmurs. “I’ve seen you around.” Ferret remains silent and the guard squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” Her eyes narrow to stormy slits and she leans forward. “No, you don’t get to question that. You need to open your eyes and look at {gender_3rdPronoun}. Look at us. If you can’t see for yourself, then I don’t trust you near {gender_3rdPronoun}.” The guard swallows and takes an involuntary step back. “I’m sorry, I only wanted…” His words trail off and he nods once, twice. “I see. I’m glad for it.” Ferret purses her lips and huffs. Her expression remains hard but she does retreat a step. “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Destroying the weapons is a good start.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_13]]

sound.ambient.action.url: 'Audio/action.mp3' sound.ambient.action.description: 'building climatic action music' sound.transitionDuration: '3s' -- {ambient sound: 'action'} Ferret stands at your side the next morning as you wait for G-72. You can tell she’s trying her best to keep calm, but her nostrils flare and she clenches and unclenches her hands. “If this makes you uncomfortable,” you begin to offer, “you can-” “No,” she bites out. She darts a look your way, her eyes rueful. “Sorry, I’m alright. This is just… weird.” “I understand, and I’m glad you’re here.” The guard eventually comes into view, his steps faltering when he sees the sweeper beside you. Ferret immediately steps toward him, a hard edge to her gaze, and you hastily lay a hand upon her arm and pull her back. “I’m not going to hurt him,” she mumbles. “Hmm.” You approach the guard and gesture to Ferret beside you. “G-72, this is Ferret. She’s…” you trail off as you search for the right word. Ferret tilts her head and watches you, curious to see how you’ll end that sentence. [align left] > [[“My partner.”->Chapter11_Escape_Ferretv4]] > [["My love."->Chapter11_Escape_Ferretv5]] > [["Mine."->Chapter11_Escape_Ferretv6]]

Guard G-72 shifts his gaze between the two of you before settling on Ferret. “Good to meet you.” His brow dips in thought as he studies the sweeper. “I know you,” he murmurs. “I’ve seen you around.” Ferret remains silent and the guard squares his shoulders. “You care for my {gender_5thPronoun}?” Her eyes narrow to stormy slits and she leans forward. “No, you don’t get to question that. You need to open your eyes and look at {gender_3rdPronoun}. Look at us. If you can’t see for yourself, then I don’t trust you near {gender_3rdPronoun}.” The guard swallows and takes an involuntary step back. “I’m sorry, I only wanted…” His words trail off and he nods once, twice. “I see. I’m glad for it.” Ferret purses her lips and huffs. Her expression remains hard but she does retreat a step. “I suppose this means you’ve made your decision?” the guard asks, shifting his attention back to you. “We have.” You update the guard on what the Circle has decided. He listens to the plan, then sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be heading in this direction. Getting those three out of the way is a good idea. Dangerous, but good.” “Come with me to the Circle tonight,” you say. “Meet the others.” The guard’s expression softens and the corners of his lips tug upward in a slow, hopeful smile. His eyes shine with an enthusiasm that belies his age. [[“I’ll be there.”->Chapter11_19]]

Robin kneads the nape of your neck, their touch gentle, confirming. Claiming. You tease their mouth open with your tongue and they greet it with their own, caressing and exploring, a moan rumbling deep from the base of their throat. You shift your weight, your knee slotting between their legs, their desire apparent. [if gender === 'man'] They break from you, lifting their free hand to your stomach, their thumb tracing a line up from your waist, and your breath hitches. You watch them as they touch you—their expression shifts from amazed to besotted, as if you’re another treasure they’ve saved from the pits, a delight for no one but them. [if gender === 'woman'] They break from you, lifting their free hand to your chest and cupping your breast, their thumb brushing over the nipple, and your breath hitches. You watch them as they touch you—their expression shifts from amazed to besotted, as if you’re another treasure they’ve saved from the pits, a delight for no one but them. [if gender === 'worker'] They break from you, lifting their free hand to your stomach, their thumb tracing a line up from your waist, and your breath hitches. You watch them as they touch you—their expression shifts from amazed to besotted, as if you’re another treasure they’ve saved from the pits, a delight for no one but them. [continue] “{name}, this is… I want…” Then they laugh, the sound keen and breathy. “I don’t know what to do next.” You return the laugh, the sound escaping you on a relieved shudder. “I don’t know either, dearest.” You stretch out your legs and lower your body closer, your bare chest grazing theirs. “But we can discover that together.” “I would like that,” they murmur, their hands resuming their exploration, settling on your hips. “I would like that very much.” You kiss again, your fingers fumbling as you remove the last of your clothing. Excitement builds in your chest, making your movements eager and clumsy. Your pant leg gets stuck around your knee and you almost fall trying to kick it free. Robin catches your arm with a throaty laugh, pulling you full-length against them. [if gender === 'man'] Your body conforms to theirs as if you were cast of the same mold, their soft curves warm beneath you, your arousal hard against theirs. A tight tremor builds in the base of your erection and you roll your hips forward, chasing that sensation, aching with need. You close your eyes at the blissful friction and a guttural moan escapes your lips. Robin gasps and arches beneath you. One hand glides down the length of your back, their nails raking your naked skin, till they reach your bottom and clench tightly, bracing you against their hips. Their other hand slowly roves down to the front, taking time to explore the divots in your hips before curling into the patch of hair between your legs, pausing just at the base of your shaft. You open your eyes to find them watching you, lips parted, chin tipped up, exposing the slender curve of their neck. Your arms box them in on either side. They study your face, eyes searching. “Is this… does this feel right?” they ask, their fingers exerting a subtle pressure. You lick your lips and nod, your throat dry, your words a desperate rasp, “Everything you’re doing feels wonderful.” Robin keeps their eyes on you, watching your reaction as they close their hand around you, as your hips jerk into theirs. You brace your knees around them to steady yourself, then reach down and stroke your hand along the length of them. Their grip on you tightens involuntarily, causing you both to gasp, your eyes meeting theirs. “Is it okay to go further?” you stutter, your voice tight with the effort of holding back. Robin nods and rasps, their voice thick, “I’m okay, as long as it’s you.” Their eyes narrow and they shake their head. “No, that’s not right.” They reach down and clasp their hand over yours, tightening your grip on them. “I want it, *because* it’s you.” Your moans echo together in the room, the sound a deep and sonorous wave. The chorus of your shared pleasure drives you to move faster. You grind against their pelvis even as you work them in your hand, relishing the feel of them, of the friction of your bodies together, knowing that you are desired and deserving and *safe*. Your heart hammers in your chest, pressure building in your gut, and you bury your face into the cot beside Robin’s head, their curls muffling your groans as they arch against you. Your hands brush, frantic and needy, nothing but skin and sweat and desperate strokes. “I think...,” Robin pants into your neck, their strokes erratic, “I’m going to...” “Me, too,” you breathe against their ear, feeling the same tension peaking. Robin shudders in your hand and cries out, and their grip on you tightens and jerks as the force of their release hits them. That crude touch pushes you over the edge and your body spasms, your wanton groan muffled into the cot, the fingers of your free hand digging harshly into their shoulder as you embrace your own release. [if gender === 'woman'] Your body conforms to theirs as if you were cast of the same mold, their soft curves warm beneath you, their arousal hard against your belly. A tight coil builds between your legs and you roll your hips forward, chasing that sensation, aching with need. You close your eyes at the blissful friction and a guttural moan escapes your lips. Robin gasps and arches beneath you. One hand glides down the length of your back, their nails raking your naked skin, till they reach your bottom and clench tightly, bracing you against their hips. Their other hand slowly roves down to the front, taking time to explore the divots in your hips, before pausing at the patch of hair at your center. You open your eyes to find them watching you, lips parted, chin tipped up, exposing the slender curve of their neck. Your arms box them in on either side. They study your face, eyes searching. “Is this… does this feel right?” they ask, their fingers exerting a subtle pressure. You lick your lips and nod, your throat dry, your words a desperate rasp, “Everything you’re doing feels wonderful.” Robin keeps their eyes on you, watching your reaction as their fingers ghost along your entrance—softly caressing at first, then more fervently as your breath hitches, as you push into their hand. Your arms begin to tremble till you can no longer hold yourself poised like that. You shift your hands to their chest and push yourself up till you hover above them, your thighs straddling their lap. The head of their member pushes into place and you gasp at the same time, your eyes meeting theirs. “Is it okay to go further?” you stutter, your voice tight with the effort of holding back. Robin nods and rasps, their voice thick, “I’m okay, as long as it’s you.” Their eyes narrow and they shake their head. “No, that’s not right.” They grasp your hips and guide you down. “I want it, *because* it’s you.” Your moans echo together in the room as they enter you, the sound a deep and sonorous wave. The chorus of your shared pleasure drives you to move faster, the pulse building at your core. You grind against their pelvis, rising up on your knees only to lower and take them again. And again. You relish the feel of them, of the friction of your bodies together, knowing that you are desired and deserving and *safe*. You throw your head back as Robin bucks beneath you, their fingers digging harshly into your thighs. Your heart hammers in your chest, pressure building in your gut. Your hands struggle to find purchase on their sweat-coated shoulders as you ride them, your rhythm erratic and desperate. “I’m going to...” Robin pants, their hips jerking beneath you, “I don’t want...” You meet their gaze, forcing the wanton haze from your mind long enough to understand what they’re saying. “I know, dearest,” you breathe. You lift off them and settle further back, the base of their length slotting against your nub and you rut against them, one hand drawing back to cup them. Robin shudders and cries out, their hands clenching your thighs as the force of their release hits them. They quiver beneath you and that final tremor pushes you over the edge and the pressure breaks, the heat engulfing you like an inferno. Your arms shudder and you drop your head against theirs, shaking as you ride out your own release. [if gender === 'worker'] Your body conforms to theirs as if you were cast of the same mold, their soft curves warm beneath you. A tight coil builds between your legs and you roll your hips forward, chasing that sensation, aching with need. You close your eyes at the blissful friction and a guttural moan escapes your lips. Robin gasps and arches beneath you. One hand glides down the length of your back, their nails raking your naked skin, till they reach your bottom and clench tightly, bracing you against their hips. Their other hand slowly roves down to the front, taking time to explore the divots in your hips before curling into the patch of hair between your legs. You open your eyes to find them watching you, lips parted, chin tipped up, exposing the slender curve of their neck. Your arms box them in on either side. They study your face, eyes searching. “Is this… does this feel right?” they ask, their fingers exerting a subtle pressure. You lick your lips and nod, your throat dry, your words a desperate rasp, “Everything you’re doing feels wonderful.” Robin keeps their eyes on you, watching your reaction as they begin to stroke you, as your hips jerk into theirs. You brace your knees around them to steady yourself, then reach down and stroke your hand along the length of them. Their hand shudders against you in response, causing you both to gasp, your eyes meeting theirs. “Is it okay to go further?” you stutter, your voice tight with the effort of holding back. Robin nods and rasps, their voice thick, “I’m okay, as long as it’s you.” Their eyes narrow and they shake their head. “No, that’s not right.” They reach down and clasp their hand over yours, tightening your grip on them. “I want it, *because* it’s you.” Your moans echo together in the room, the sound a deep and sonorous wave. The chorus of your shared pleasure drives you to move faster. You grind against their pelvis even as you work them in your hand, relishing the feel of them, of the friction of your bodies together, knowing that you are desired and deserving and *safe*. Your heart hammers in your chest, pressure building in your gut, and you bury your face into the cot beside Robin’s head, their curls muffling your groans as they arch against you. Your hands brush, frantic and needy, nothing but skin and sweat and desperate strokes. “I think...,” Robin pants into your neck, their strokes erratic, “I’m going to...” “Me, too,” you breathe against their ear, feeling the same tension peaking. Robin shudders in your hand and cries out, jerking beneath you as the force of their release hits them, and that final tremor pushes you over the edge. Your body spasms, your wanton groan muffled into the cot, the fingers of your free hand digging harshly into their shoulder as you embrace your own release. [continue] You slowly raise your head, your muscles weak with exhaustion and satisfaction, and your eyes meet theirs. Then they’re kissing you—brief, desperate kisses on your mouth, jaw, nose and eyelids. The last of your strength gives out and you collapse on the cot beside them. You lie side by side, your spent bodies pressed together, their arm thrown over your hips, your arm cradling their head as they nuzzle into your neck. You kiss the top of their head, their curls sticking to your sweat-lined neck, and they murmur something incoherent, their voice muffled into your skin. You stroke their hair and they murmur again, their arm tightening about you. “Is everything alright?” you venture softly. You feel wonderful, complete, incomprehensibly happy, yet a niggle of fear prickles your chest. “How was it?” Robin doesn’t move for a moment, just long enough for you to squirm with unease. Then they lift their head. Their eyes are a bright emerald and copper, and they glisten with unshed tears. The niggle of fear grows before you realize they’re smiling—wholly, unabashedly smiling, their teeth flashing in the moonlight. You’ve never seen them look so beautiful, and you’re struck silent. “You’re my wind,” they tell you. “I… what?” “You’ve seen the pits, you know the smoke always hangs in the air. It’s suffocating. But sometimes, a strong wind will come in and blow the smoke away.” Their hand glides against you as they speak, following the curve of your hips up to your waist, along your chest, your neck, till finally settling upon your cheek. “And for a moment, I can see the blue sky. It’s huge and bright, and I know that there’s more beyond those pits. There’s something greater out there. And it’s beautiful.” They touch their nose to yours. “You’re my wind.” You release a shuddering breath, your chest full with the force of your emotions. You have no words, but you’re pretty sure the smile on your face mirrors theirs. You lean forward and kiss one corner of their mouth, then the other, before tasting their lips. Robin hums happily against your mouth before burrowing back into your neck, and you pull them closer. You lay quietly for a time, Robin tracing patterns on your naked hip, your fingers threading their hair. “You’re going to be meeting with that guard tomorrow morning, right?” they eventually ask, their voice heavy with drowsiness. “I want to be there, too.” “I’d love to have you with me, dearest,” you reply with a yawn. They murmur a sleepy response. It sounds something like “I want to always be with you,” but you’re too tired to focus on their words. [[The both of you drift into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.->Chapter11_Stay_Robinv5]]

He reaches up and plays with one of your braids. His fingers tingle when they brush against your ear. {embed passage: 'Chapter6_HeronLove_02'}

*Journal Entry 299* *I’ve tried to pinpoint where everything went horribly wrong, and I can’t. It was too insidious, the changes too small and seemingly trivial.* *This city is doomed. I’ve yelled and railed but no one seems to hear, nor care. I fear there’s nothing I can do to change this city’s fate. It’s like a car with no breaks, speeding toward an inevitable collision, and I am too old and tired to stop it.* *But there is one thing I can do.* *I’ve started gathering up books. Right now I have them stashed in my room in the hall, but the pile is getting larger, and I’ll need to find somewhere else to keep them. Somewhere safe and hidden where the guard and council will never find them. Maybe someday, someone will find them, someone with a better story to tell than my own.* *I wonder how that next chapter will unfold, and I wonder whose journey it will be…* [[Begin Chapter 12->Chapter12Rebellion_00]]

~~Chapter 12~~ You don’t move. You barely even breathe. You flatten yourself against the darkened hall where the glow from the pits cannot reach. Heron and Ferret are on either side of you, just as silent and still. Time moves differently as you wait—too fast and too slow at once. Finally you hear clipped, muffled voices. Bear exits the hall with the three ringleaders in tow. They don’t look your way as they head briskly toward the circle. When they are a safe distance away the three of you slip silently into the hall. Bear explained the layout to you, and you find the armory with no trouble. You bite your lip as you study the clubs and whips haphazardly strewn about the floor and on racks. The whips will be easier to gather together, but you’ll have to make multiple trips for the clubs. “Let’s be quick.” You each carry as much as you can, then quickly make your way to the pits. It’s a laborious trek back and forth, and you keep stealing glances toward the circle, keenly aware that time is slipping from you. The three of you work in silence until the final load, when Ferret’s voice stops you at the edge of the nearest pit. “Should we keep a weapon for ourselves?” Heron grimaces as he stretches the fraying length of a whip between his hands. He catches your eye and a nearly indecipherable shudder passes over him, barely a ripple, then he tosses the whip into the pit and picks up a club instead. “Might be good, as a last resort,” he concedes, testing the weight of it. [align left] > [[You choose a club.->Chapter12Rebellion_02]] > [[You choose a whip.->Chapter12Rebellion_03]] > [[You choose not to arm yourself.->Chapter12Rebellion_04]]

hasClub: false hasWhip: false hasUnarmed: true hasShovel: false hasChisel: false hasHands: false -- ~~Chapter 12~~ You, Lion and Robin stand on the bottom floor of the barracks, gazing about the hundreds of sleeping forms surrounding you. “Soo,” Robin draws out the word, “how do we begin?” You glance toward the stairwell that leads up to the women’s level. “We need to get everyone together.” Robin nods and scampers up the stairs. Lion opens his mouth, draws in a deep breath, and bellows, “Everyone wake up! Wake and hear us!” Bodies jerk awake, startled heads lift up, a few people tumble from their cots in alarm. Lion walks among the beds as he continues to shout, his voice reverberating through the cavernous space. You hear movement above as female workers begin to stagger downstairs. “Everyone, please listen to us,” you shout, raising your voice to reach those in the room above. “My name is {name}. I am a worker like you, a healer. I’ve helped many of you, but now I need your help.” The workers regard you with mixed expressions of astonishment, disbelief, and wariness. You’re sure many of them assume they’re still asleep and dreaming. “My fellow workers, we have all been lied to,” you begin, your voice clear and crisp, taking care to emphasize every syllable. You know your voice will carry as much authority as the words themselves. “There is no council, the guard control everything. There are three guard in charge—three cruel, evil, violent guard who treat this city as if it’s their own playground. I need your help, *we* need your help, to stop these three guard.” You walk among the rows of beds, catching as many pairs of eyes as you can. “We can show you a better way of life—a life where there are no lessons, no punishments. A life where every worker is equal and free and has a voice. Please,” you hold your hands out to the crowd, “come with us.” The workers look at each other—the men eye the women who have filled the stairwell, the women look back with equally apprehensive gazes. There are a few hesitant, murmured words, too broken and scared for you to decipher. “I know you’re scared. I am, too,” Robin calls out, walking slowly back downstairs. Their voice isn’t as steady as yours, but it resonates with emotion, and the workers seem to react positively to it. “The thought of disobeying the guard is terrifying. But a life of living under their thumb scares me even more. If we do this tonight, we won’t have to be afraid anymore.” “You punish guard?” one of the workers asks. “Not all of them, they’re not all bad, you’ll see,” you answer. “But yes, we plan to stop the leaders. Without them, I think we can turn this city into something better, something good.” “Why listen you?” someone asks. “Stay here, stay safe.” A few heads nod in agreement. “There is no safe place in The City,” Lion answers, his expression uncharacteristically somber. He does not raise his voice but it carries all the same. “A year ago I lost my dear friend in a lesson. Several days ago, I lost two more. If we succeed tonight, there will never be another lesson again. Only then, will we all be safe.” You watch as heads turn, lips move in hushed whispers. That alone is a victory—you’ve given these workers a reason to look at each other, to speak. “I know you’re confused, and that this is a lot to ask,” you implore. “You don’t have to fight anyone if you don’t want to. But if you’re at all curious, then come with us. Stand with us.” Then a man steps forward, and you recognize the builder whose shoulder you tended not a day earlier. “Healer help me,” he declares, turning to address the others and pointing to his arm still in the sling. “Healer good. Safe.” He looks back at you, his hazel eyes steady, his back straight. “I help.” “I help,” a female voice calls from the stairs. Amidst the turning heads you single out a greying head of hair as an older woman steps confidently down the stairs. The gatherer from the orchard. “Healer help me, too. Stop guard punish me.” She fixes her eyes on you and raises her chin. “You good worker. I help.” Other voices speak up, young and old, hundreds of patients you tended. Voices that are only now discovering the strength they did not, could not, express before. They regard you with mixed expressions of curiosity, trepidation, hope, and determination. And a realization hits you, comforting and bolstering all at once. This rebellion started long before now. You swallow and blink back tears. “Thank you.” You shift your gaze first to the builder, then the gatherer, before sweeping the room. “Thank you for trusting us. Now, we must hurry.” You gesture with your arms as you move toward the door. “Our friends are at the hall now, they need our help.” You exit the barracks with Lion and Robin at your heels, and the hammering of hundreds of feet behind them. You glance back over your shoulder as you walk. Not every worker followed you; it looks to be about half the population, a greater number than you were actually expecting. As you draw close to the hall you see Heron and Ferret standing beside the shed, illuminated by the light of the torch in Ferret’s hand. She’s holding a whip in her other hand and Heron is clenching a club. Ferret eyes the workers behind you in satisfaction, then nods and hands the torch to you. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_05'}

hasClub: true hasWhip: false hasUnarmed: false hasShovel: false hasChisel: false hasHands: false -- You select a club from the pile before tossing the remaining weapons into the pit. The flames lap at the weapons with ravenous speed, as if driven by the same urgency that makes your palms tingle. You find a suitable piece of wood that’s sticking half out of the pit. You pull it out, the top half a beacon of blazing light. With the torch secure and the weapons melting, the three of you make for the water shed. As you approach you’re startled by a large mass approaching from the other side of the hall. Your steps slow, but then you recognize Robin and Lion in the front, leading hundreds of workers your way. It looks to be about half the population, a greater number than you were actually expecting. Lion meets your eye and nods. Then he turns back and addresses the throng. “This is {name}, the healer I spoke of.” As the workers draw close, the light from your torch illuminates their faces, and you realize you recognize many of them. In the front is the builder who’s shoulder you treated. Beside him is the elderly female gatherer whom you defended in the orchard. And behind them, hundreds of patients you tended. They regard you with mixed expressions of curiosity, trepidation, hope, and determination. And a realization hits you, comforting and bolstering all at once. This rebellion started long before now. “Thank you for coming, for helping us.” You pass your gaze over the crowd before settling on the builder from the clinic. You smile and incline your head to him, and he straightens and does the same. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_05'}

hasClub: false hasWhip: true hasUnarmed: false hasShovel: false hasChisel: false hasHands: false -- You select a whip from the pile before tossing the remaining weapons into the pit. The flames lap at the weapons with ravenous speed, as if driven by the same urgency that makes your palms tingle. You find a suitable piece of wood that’s sticking half out of the pit. You pull it out, the top half a beacon of blazing light. With the torch secure and the weapons melting, the three of you make for the water shed. As you approach you’re startled by a large mass approaching from the other side of the hall. Your steps slow, but then you recognize Robin and Lion in the front, leading hundreds of workers your way. It looks to be about half the population, a greater number than you were actually expecting. Lion meets your eye and nods. Then he turns back and addresses the throng. “This is {name}, the healer I spoke of.” As the workers draw close, the light from your torch illuminates their faces, and you realize you recognize many of them. In the front is the builder who’s shoulder you treated. Beside him is the elderly female gatherer whom you defended in the orchard. And behind them, hundreds of patients you tended. They regard you with mixed expressions of curiosity, trepidation, hope, and determination. And a realization hits you, comforting and bolstering all at once. This rebellion started long before now. “Thank you for coming, for helping us.” You pass your gaze over the crowd before settling on the builder from the clinic. You smile and incline your head to him, and he straightens and does the same. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_05'}

hasClub: false hasWhip: false hasUnarmed: true hasShovel: false hasChisel: false hasHands: false -- You are uncomfortable with carrying a weapon, and toss the remaining weapons into the pit. The flames lap at the weapons with ravenous speed, as if driven by the same urgency that makes your palms tingle. You find a suitable piece of wood that’s sticking half out of the pit. You pull it out, the top half a beacon of blazing light. With the torch secure and the weapons melting, the three of you make for the water shed. As you approach you’re startled by a large mass approaching from the other side of the hall. Your steps slow, but then you recognize Robin and Lion in the front, leading hundreds of workers your way. It looks to be about half the population, a greater number than you were actually expecting. Lion meets your eye and nods. Then he turns back and addresses the throng. “This is {name}, the healer I spoke of.” As the workers draw close, the light from your torch illuminates their faces, and you realize you recognize many of them. In the front is the builder who’s shoulder you treated. Beside him is the elderly female gatherer whom you defended in the orchard. And behind them, hundreds of patients you tended. They regard you with mixed expressions of curiosity, trepidation, hope, and determination. And a realization hits you, comforting and bolstering all at once. This rebellion started long before now. “Thank you for coming, for helping us.” You pass your gaze over the crowd before settling on the builder from the clinic. You smile and incline your head to him, and he straightens and does the same. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_05'}

“Tonight, we show the guard what we are truly capable of, what each of us are worth,” you exclaim, holding the torch aloft. “Tonight, we take back our freedom.” You face the shed and touch the fire to the wooden planks. The fire catches easily in the dry air, and the flames creep along the sides. A few gasps escape those gathered, but the loudest sound is the splintering and popping of wood—the creaking and groaning of timber releasing steam into the night air. You let out a breath you hadn’t realize you’d been holding in, as if you too are escaping from the bending, cracking walls. A hoarse shout breaks the stillness. Bear and the three guard approach swiftly. The pig is in front, his face a blotched, mottled fury. [[“You dare?” he screams.->Chapter12Rebellion_06]]

[if persona === 'Brawler'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_07'} [if persona === 'Pathfinder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_07'} [if persona === 'Leader'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_07'} [if persona === 'Supporter'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_08'} [if persona === 'Observer'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_08'} [if persona === 'Follower'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Rebellion_08'}

The rage in his voice triggers something inside you, something proud, exhausted. Angry. His eyes gleam with madness, his face ugly in its fury, but you feel no fear. You step forward and point the torch at the pig. “No, how dare *you*.” You don’t shout, but your voice feels heavier to you, deafening, as loud as the bell in the circle and just as solid, each word cold and commanding. Everyone - the guard, your friends, the workers - all still at your words. “How dare you treat people like this? How dare you hurt and bully us. How dare you think you have any right to command us? *You have no right*!” Your voice rises, the tone reverberating through The City like a thunderous wave. “You’re ignorant, hateful, cowardly men, and you no longer have any power over us. This is your only chance—drop your weapons and surrender, and we’ll show you mercy, something you’ve never shown nor deserve.” The weasel and the wasp shuffle on their feet, their expressions decidedly less certain than they were a moment before. They look to the pig for direction. Their leader has listened to you in stunned silence, but now his eyes narrow, his brow dipping furiously, the mad gleam returning to his dark eyes. “You no command me.” He raises his club and charges toward you. “I punish you!” Lion jumps forward, grabbing the torch from you and rushing the ringleader. The other two guard spring into action. Ferret screams and races forward, cutting off the weasel with a snap of her whip and forcing his attention on her. The wasp falters, her gaze switching between her two engaged partners, unsure of who to assist. The decision is made for her when Heron steps deliberately toward her. You hear movement behind you and turn around to see the remaining guard stepping cautiously out of the hall. They look confused, their gazes torn between the fight and the mass of workers edging closer. A few clench their fists, looking as if they’re going to step in. Bear steps in front of them, his arms out, his voice clear when he shouts, “No, no, don’t interfere. The guard don’t have to be cruel. We *shouldn’t* be cruel. We don’t have to be like them,” he urges, gesturing to the three ringleaders. “Those three must be stopped. We don’t need to fight. We are more like them,” he gestures to the mass of stunned, onlooking workers, “than you think.” Both guard and worker eye him in surprise, as if neither party is sure what to make of the old guard. But they listen, seeming to take his words to heart. You hear the crack of a whip and whirl around. Heron and the wasp are closest to you. He’s holding his club out in front of him but not directly attacking. “You don’t have to do this,” he attempts to reason with her. To anyone else his voice would sound sure and steady, but you recognize the hint of distress underlying it. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” “Filthy feeder,” she sneers. She lashes her whip in the air, releasing a loud crack, sharper than before. The noise paralyzes Heron. His legs stiffen, jaw clenches, sweat beads on his brow. His eyes widen, his gaze somehow both fixed on the whip and far off at the same time. The wasp sneers and raises the whip again. You shout and step forward but a body barrels past you, reaching the duo first. Bear shields Heron and throws up his right arm just as the whip comes down, lashing around his wrist. He staggers and grunts as the whip tears into his skin. His hand fists around the cord and he shifts his weight, yanking the whip out of the hands of the female guard. She loses her balance and stumbles to her knees. Bear staggers back, gripping his arm. The encounter frees Heron from his inertia. He grips Bear’s shoulder and tugs the old guard behind him. Then he snarls and hefts the club, his pale eyes like ice. Three of your friends are engaged in battle with the guard. Robin is standing between the onlooking guard and workers, trying to keep the peace. Who do you help? [align left] > [[Lion with the pig.->Chapter12Rebellion_09]] > [[Ferret with the weasel.->Chapter12Rebellion_10]] > [[Heron with the wasp.->Chapter12Rebellion_11]] > [[Robin with crowd control.->Chapter12Rebellion_12]]

The rage in his voice paralyzes you, and you’re caught by the mad gleam in his eyes. You can feel your resolve slipping, the doubt and fear creeping in. A hand grips your shoulder, and you tear yourself away from that furious gaze. Lion takes the torch from you and gently pulls you behind him. Then he steps forwards and points the torch at the pig. “No, how dare *you*.” He doesn’t shout, but his voice is deafening, unyielding, as loud as the bell in the circle and just as solid. You’ve never heard your friend use such a cold, commanding tone before, and it captivates you as much as it does the guard. “How dare you treat people like this? How dare you hurt and bully us. How dare you think you have any right to command us? *You have no right*!” Lion’s voice rises, his tone reverberating through The City like a thunderous wave. “You are ignorant, hateful, cowardly men, and you no longer have any power over us. You have one chance—drop your weapons and surrender, and we will show you mercy, something you have never shown nor deserve.” The weasel and the wasp shuffle on their feet, their expressions decidedly less certain than they were a moment before. They look to the pig for direction. Their leader has listened to Lion in stunned silence, but now his eyes narrow, his brow dipping furiously, the mad gleam returning to his dark eyes. “You no command me.” He raises his club and charges toward Lion, who rushes forward to meet him. “I punish you!” The other two guard spring into action. Ferret screams and races forward, cutting off the weasel with a snap of her whip and forcing his attention on her. The wasp falters, her gaze switching between her two engaged partners, unsure of who to assist. The decision is made for her when Heron steps deliberately toward her. You hear movement behind you and turn around to see the remaining guard stepping cautiously out of the hall. They look confused, their gazes torn between the fight and the mass of workers edging closer. A few clench their fists, looking as if they’re going to step in. Bear steps in front of them, his arms out, his voice clear when he shouts, “No, no, don’t interfere. The guard don’t have to be cruel. We *shouldn’t* be cruel. We don’t have to be like them,” he urges, gesturing to the three ringleaders. “Those three must be stopped. We don’t need to fight. We are more like them,” he gestures to the mass of stunned, onlooking workers, “than you think.” Both guard and worker eye him in surprise, as if neither party is sure what to make of the old guard. But they listen, seeming to take his words to heart. You hear the crack of a whip and whirl around. Heron and the wasp are closest to you. He’s holding his club out in front of him but not directly attacking. “You don’t have to do this,” he attempts to reason with her. To anyone else his voice would sound sure and steady, but you recognize the hint of distress underlying it. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” “Filthy feeder,” she sneers. She lashes her whip in the air, releasing a loud crack, sharper than before. The noise paralyzes Heron. His legs stiffen, jaw clenches, sweat beads on his brow. His eyes widen, his gaze somehow both fixed on the whip and far off at the same time. The wasp sneers and raises the whip again. You shout and step forward but a body barrels past you, reaching the duo first. Bear shields Heron and throws up his right arm just as the whip comes down, lashing around his wrist. He staggers and grunts as the whip tears into his skin. His hand fists around the cord and he shifts his weight, yanking the whip out of the hands of the female guard. She loses her balance and stumbles to her knees. Bear staggers back, gripping his arm. The encounter frees Heron from his inertia. He grips Bear’s shoulder and tugs the old guard behind him. Then he snarls and hefts the club, his pale eyes like ice. Three of your friends are engaged in battle with the guard. Robin is standing between the onlooking guard and workers, trying to keep the peace. Who do you help? [align left] > [[Lion with the pig.->Chapter12Rebellion_09]] > [[Ferret with the weasel.->Chapter12Rebellion_10]] > [[Heron with the wasp.->Chapter12Rebellion_11]] > [[Robin with crowd control.->Chapter12Rebellion_12]]

You run to Lion’s side. As you do, you see several workers rush to help Heron and Ferret. [if hasClub] Lion and the pig circle each other slowly, each closely gauging the other. The guard holds his club up in front of him, and Lion matches his stance with the torch. Your fingers curl around the club in your hand, trembling but determined. The weight of the weapon is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Lion’s eyes flick to you as you approach and the pig lunges forward. Lion swings the torch upward but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. You rush forward and raise your club to block his strike. Your weapons clash together and the force makes your arms tremble but you hold your ground, twisting your arm and swinging upward. He blocks your attempt and heaves forward, throwing his large frame into the shove and forcing you backward. You spy Lion behind the guard, torch raised, but the man must have seen your gaze shift because he turns just as Lion brings the torch down. The guard parries with his club, knocking the torch from Lion’s hands, but leaving his back to you. You kick hard against the back of his knee and he staggers to his knees with a grunt of pain. Lion tackles him to the ground, wrenching the guard’s club free in the tousle. The two grapple as you stand over them, club clutched in your hands, watching for an opening. Eventually, Lion pins the guard onto his stomach. He wrenches his arms behind his back and shoves his knee into the pig’s back between his shoulder blades. [if hasWhip] Lion and the pig circle each other slowly, each closely gauging the other. The guard holds his club up in front of him, and Lion matches his stance with the torch. Your fingers curl around the whip in your hand, trembling but determined. The roughness of the leather is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Lion’s eyes flick to you as you approach and the pig lunges forward. Lion swings the torch upward but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. He yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet and lash out with your whip, aiming for his weapon. It curls around his hand and the club and you tug hard. The pig stumbles toward you but doesn’t release his hold. You spy Lion behind the guard, torch raised, but the man must have seen your gaze shift because he turns just as Lion brings the torch down. The guard parries with his club, knocking the torch from Lion’s hands, but leaving his back to you. You kick hard against the back of his knee and he staggers to his knees with a grunt of pain. Lion tackles him to the ground, wrenching the guard’s club free in the tousle. You rush to retrieve it as the two men grapple. You stand over them, club clutched in your hands, watching for an opening. Eventually, Lion pins the guard onto his stomach. He wrenches his arms behind his back and shoves his knee into the pig’s back between his shoulder blades. [if hasUnarmed] Lion and the pig circle each other slowly, each closely gauging the other. The guard holds his club up in front of him, and Lion matches his stance with the torch. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Lion’s eyes flick to you as you approach and the pig lunges forward. Lion swings the torch upward but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. He yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet, grabbing at his club as you do. You struggle for a moment, trying to wrench it from his hands. You spy Lion behind the guard, torch raised, but the man must have seen your gaze shift because he turns just as Lion brings the torch down. The guard parries with his club, knocking the torch from Lion’s hands, but leaving his back to you. You kick hard against the back of his knee and he staggers to his knees with a grunt of pain. Lion tackles him to the ground, wrenching the guard’s club free in the tousle. You rush to retrieve it as the two men grapple. You stand over them, club clutched in your hands, watching for an opening. Eventually, Lion pins the guard onto his stomach. He wrenches his arms behind his back and shoves his knee into the pig’s back between his shoulder blades. [continue] The guard howls and thrashes about, unable to break free. You slowly lower your arms and drop the club, satisfied with his confinement. You catch Lion’s eye, his gaze enquiring as he quickly assesses you, and you nod to assure him you’re unhurt. You turn to study the scene around you. A few of the guard have helped Bear to his feet and they seem to be engaged in an animated conversation. Bear smiles and clasps one of the guard on the shoulder. A good indication. Ferret and three workers are standing over the limp body of the weasel, a whip wrapped several times around his neck. He’s obviously dead. Heron is standing with three workers and cradling his wrist. You make a mental note to check him over later. Between their feet lies the inert body of the female guard. You can see the blood pooling beneath her head from here. Lion pulls his prisoner up to his knees, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

You run to Ferret’s side. As you do, you see several workers rush to help Lion and Heron. [if hasClub] Ferret and the weasel circle each other slowly—his club held up in front of him, her whip clenched tightly in her fist. Your fingers curl around the club in your hand, trembling but determined. The weight of the weapon is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Her eyes flick to you as you approach and the weasel lunges forward. Ferret swings upward with the whip but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. You rush forward and raise your club to block his strike. Your weapons clash together and the force makes your arms tremble but you hold your ground, twisting your arm and swinging upward. He blocks your attempt, then turns into you and thrusts his elbow up, catching you in the throat. Your vision inks black at the edges for a terrifying moment and you stumble back, dropping the club. You clutch at your throat, eyes wetting as you cough and try to catch your breath. [if hasWhip] Ferret and the weasel circle each other slowly—his club held up in front of him, her whip clenched tightly in her fist. Your fingers curl around the whip in your hand, trembling but determined. The roughness of the leather is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Her eyes flick to you as you approach and the weasel lunges forward. Ferret swings upward with the whip but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. The guard yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet and lash out with your whip, aiming for his weapon. It curls around his hand and the club and you tug hard. The weasel stumbles toward you but doesn’t release his hold. He catches his footing and turns into you, thrusting his elbow up and hitting you in the throat. Your vision inks black at the edges for a terrifying moment and you stumble back, releasing the whip. You clutch at your throat, eyes wetting as you cough and try to catch your breath. [if hasUnarmed] Ferret and the weasel circle each other slowly—his club held up in front of him, her whip clenched tightly in her fist. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Her eyes flick to you as you approach and the weasel lunges forward. Ferret swings upward with the whip but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. The guard yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet, grabbing at his club as you do. You struggle for a moment, trying to wrench it from his hands. Then he turns into you and thrusts his elbow up, catching you in the throat. Your vision inks black at the edges for a terrifying moment and you stumble back, releasing the club. You clutch at your throat, eyes wetting as you cough and try to catch your breath. [continue] Ferret screams, the sound cut off by the crack of her whip as it lashes around the weasel’s neck. You see his eyes widen just before she drags him back toward her. The guard falls to his knees and claws at the whip, but Ferret raises her arms so that it tightens further. She loops the excess length around his neck, then once more, the muscles in her arms straining as she tugs. A knot twists in your gut at the sight of the sputtering guard. His body spasms, his eyes bulge and roll back in his head. Finally, his hands fall limp at his sides and his mouth falls open in a mute scream. [align left] > [[You swallow the bile in your throat and look away.->Chapter12Rebellion_10v1]] > [[You cautiously approach and give his body a swift kick.->Chapter12Rebellion_10v2]] > [[You retrieve the club and bash his head in. Just to be sure.->Chapter12Rebellion_10v3]]

You run to Heron’s side. As you do, you see several workers rush to help Lion and Ferret. [if hasClub] Heron and the female guard are locked in a struggle over the club. You creep forward, your fingers curling around the club in your hand, trembling but determined. The weight of the weapon is sobering. Suddenly, the wasp rears her head back and bashes her forehead against Heron’s, causing your friend to stumble and lose his grip. You swing your club, catching her in the stomach as she tries to dodge you. She winces and grits her teeth, but keeps hold of her weapon. “You okay?” you ask Heron, your eyes never leaving the wasp. “Yeah,” he grunts, massaging his forehead. “She needs to go down.” “Agreed.” You charge forward and the wasp meets you, your clubs striking together. The force makes your arms tremble but you hold your ground, twisting your arm and swinging upward. She blocks your strike, then kicks her knee up. You jump back but she presses forward, swinging at your head. Heron tackles her from the side and they both tumble to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs. She howls in rage and lashes out wildly, swinging her club in an aimless arc. Heron raises his arm to block and the club catches his wrist. In her frenzy the blow doesn’t land with full force, but you hear the dull, resonating thump when it connects. Heron cries out and falls onto his back, clutching his wrist. The wasp staggers to one knee and raises her club. [if hasWhip] Heron and the female guard are locked in a struggle over the club. You creep forward, your fingers curling around the whip in your hand, trembling but determined. The roughness of the leather is sobering. Suddenly, the wasp rears her head back and bashes her forehead against Heron’s, causing your friend to stumble and lose his grip. You swing upward with the whip and it cuts along her back, tearing at her clothes and leaving a bloody streak. She shrieks and totters away, but keeps hold of the club. “You okay?” you ask Heron, your eyes never leaving the wasp. “Yeah,” he grunts, massaging his forehead. “She needs to go down.” “Agreed.” The guard yells something unintelligible and rushes you, her club raised high. You lash out at the air between you but she manages to dodge, still careening toward you. She swings the club toward your head and you drop and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as her weapon passes close to your ear. You spring to your feet as she lurches forward again. This time you lash out and aim for her weapon. The ends of the whip curl around the club and you tug hard, pulling it from her grasp. Heron tackles her from the side and they both tumble to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs. You struggle to free the club and clutch it in your hands, watching for an opening. The wasp howls in rage and lashes out wildly, kicking and punching like a cornered beast. Heron raises his arm to block and her foot catches his wrist. In her frenzy the kick doesn’t land with full force, but you hear the dull, resonating thump when it connects. Heron cries out and falls onto his back, clutching his wrist. The wasp staggers to one knee and wraps her hands around his throat. [if hasUnarmed] Heron and the female guard are locked in a struggle over the club. The wasp rears her head back and bashes her forehead against Heron’s, causing your friend to stumble and lose his grip. You swing your arm forward and slam your fist into the side of her head. She shrieks and totters away, but keeps hold of the club. “You okay?” you ask Heron, your eyes never leaving the wasp. “Yeah,” he grunts, massaging his forehead. “She needs to go down.” “Agreed.” The guard yells something unintelligible and rushes you, her club raised high. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as her weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet and kick out, your foot slamming into the back of her knee. She staggers and drops to her hands and knees, the club rolling out of reach. Heron tackles her from the side and they both tumble to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs. You pick up the fallen club and clutch it in your hands, watching for an opening. The wasp howls in rage and lashes out wildly, kicking and punching like a cornered beast. Heron raises his arm to block and her foot catches his wrist. In her frenzy the kick doesn’t land with full force, but you hear the dull, resonating thump when it connects. Heron cries out and falls onto his back, clutching his wrist. The wasp staggers to one knee and wraps her hands around his throat. [continue] You don’t think, don’t pause. You leap forward and swing the club at her head. It connects with a sickening crack, sharp and jarring. She falls stiffly to the side and lays motionless, a tendril of blood spilling down between her open eyes. [align left] > [[You swallow the bile in your throat and look away.->Chapter12Rebellion_11v1]] > [[You drop the club and kick her body.->Chapter12Rebellion_11v2]] > [[You bash her head one more time. For good measure.->Chapter12Rebellion_11v3]]

Robin looks overwhelmed, and you decide they need your help the most. You rush back to their side just as a digger shoulders past Robin, knocking them off their feet. He pounces on a guard’s back and wraps his arms around the man’s neck. “Stop this!” you cry. You grab the digger by the collar of his tunic and yank him off the guard. He tumbles to the ground, nearly taking you with him, but you manage to keep your footing. You take a moment to make sure the guard aren’t retaliating, then turn to the workers. “These people are not your enemy! We do not fight unarmed guard, do you understand?” The digger scowls and sits up, dusting off his hands. You don’t begrudge him his ire, but you can’t allow the situation to spiral out of control. You lean down and offer your hand to him. He eyes you, then the guard behind you, then grudgingly takes your hand. You help him to his feet but don’t release your grip right away. “I know they feel like the enemy, believe me, I do. But there is no way forward for this city if we tear each other apart. You want to help?” You gesture to your friends. “Then help my friends. Those three are the enemy, not the entire guard.” You catch the builder’s eye, the one you healed. He nods, then rallies the workers nearby, including the digger itching for a fight, and they run to your friends’ aid. You turn around to help Robin but find the female gatherer already helping him stand. They thank her and clasp her hand, and your heart warms at the exchange. You turn to address the remaining guard. You can see a range of mixed emotions on their faces—some look confused, sympathetic, some hostile. “I know some of you never wanted to be a guard. Well, now is your chance. You don’t have to hurt anyone, don’t have to do what *they* tell you,” you say, gesturing behind you. “This city is wrong, I know you feel it. Help us to fix it.” “Please, listen to my {gender_5thPronoun}. And yes, this is my {gender_5thPronoun}, my family.” Bear appears at your side. He looks at you, the skin around his eyes creasing as his gaze softens. “You may have family among them, as well.” He gestures to the workers. “You deserve the chance to find out.” As the two groups study each other you can feel the tension releasing, hear the murmuring of hesitant, stilted voices as they begin to communicate with one another. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You feel a hand slip into yours and Robin leans into you. “I think it’s working.” You heave a sigh. “Lets hope so.” “You’re amazing, you know that, {name}?” “Only when I’m with you,” you reply, squeezing their hand. [else] Robin leans into you. “I think it’s working.” You heave a sigh. “Lets hope so.” [continue] You turn to study the scene around you. Ferret and three workers are standing over the limp body of the weasel, a whip wrapped several times around his neck. He’s obviously dead. Heron is standing with three workers and cradling his wrist. You make a mental note to check him over later. Between their feet lies the inert body of the female guard. You can see the blood pooling beneath her head from here. The pig is down on his knees, his head bowed. Lion stands behind him, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. You swallow and approach the pig, your steps slow but purposeful, your hands clenched into fists at your side. [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

“What are we going to do about him?” Heron asks, dipping his chin toward the remaining ringleader. “I say we kill him.” Ferrets spits in the sand in front of the kneeling guard. “He's too dangerous to let live.” “We can banish him,” Robin suggests. “If we force him over the wall-” An enraged roar startles you as the pig shrugs off Lion’s hold and lurches to his feet. Before anyone can react he slams into you, the force of his tackle pushing both of you back several feet. Your back collides with the edge of something rough and solid, and you gasp as it knocks the wind from you. Someone calls your name, but you can’t focus. The acrid stench of smoke and ash assaults your nose and lungs, and you realize you’re in the burnt husk of the water shed. Then hands are around your neck, squeezing, forcing you to bend backward over the lip of the well. You cough and claw at the hands but the guard’s grip doesn’t loosen. You turn your head and see the ladder to your right just as your vision begins to dim. You hook your leg around the guard’s and push off, throwing your weight behind you, and tumble backwards into the well. The hands loosen and release and you feel the weight of the guard rolling off you. You reach out in the direction of the ladder, but the remnant smoke blinds you. You can’t see, can’t think for one brief second as the panic overwhelms you. Then your fingers meet with warm iron and you clench. Not fast enough. Your fingers slip, then connect again with the rung below. This time you grip tight. Your body halts mid-fall and something pops in your shoulder. You cry out when an agonizing pain stabs into your shoulder and rips down the length of your arm. Your vision flares white and you clench your teeth, afraid you’re about to throw up. You don’t know how you manage to hold on, but thankfully you do. “{name}!” [if loveInterest === 'builder'] You look up and see Lion leaning over the edge of the well, his eyes frantic. “Can you climb?” he asks, already reaching for the ladder. Your feet find purchase on the rungs and you grab hold of the ladder with your good arm. Your injured arm drops useless at your side and the pain flares again, this time worse. Tears sting your eyes and your breath leaves you in ragged gasps. “I… no, I can’t move,” you whimper, choking back a sob. “Shoulder hurts bad. I think I dislocated it.” “I am coming to you.” Lion climbs over the lip of the well and starts descending the ladder. When he reaches you he wraps an arm around your waist. With him supporting your weight you’re able to climb with one hand, slowly and painstakingly back to the top. Your other friends and a few workers and guard are peering anxiously over the edge of the well. When you reach the top they help you over the edge and back onto solid ground. Lion enfolds you in his arms, mindful of your injured shoulder. His breathing is as ragged as yours when he whispers in your ear, “I lost my mind when I saw you fall. If I had lost you-” “Shh,” you whisper, holding him tight with your good arm. “I’m okay.” [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] You look up and see Ferret leaning over the edge of the well, her eyes frantic. “Can you climb?” she asks, already reaching for the ladder. Your feet find purchase on the rungs and you grab hold of the ladder with your good arm. Your injured arm drops useless at your side and the pain flares again, this time worse. Tears sting your eyes and your breath leaves you in ragged gasps. “I… no, I can’t move,” you whimper, choking back a sob. “Shoulder hurts bad. I think I dislocated it.” “Don’t move, I’m coming to you.” Ferret climbs over the lip of the well and starts descending the ladder. When she reaches you she wraps an arm around your waist. With her supporting your weight you’re able to climb with one hand, slowly and painstakingly back to the top. Your other friends and a few workers and guard are peering anxiously over the edge of the well. When you reach the top they help you over the edge and back onto solid ground. Ferret throws her arms around you, only remembering your injury when you hiss painfully. Her breathing is as ragged as yours when she whispers in your ear, “You promised, you fucking promised me. Don’t you ever-” “Shh,” you whisper, holding her tight with your good arm. “I’m okay.” [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] You look up and see Heron leaning over the edge of the wall, his eyes frantic. “Can you climb?” he asks, already reaching for the ladder. Your feet find purchase on the rungs and you grab hold of the ladder with your good arm. Your injured arm drops useless at your side and the pain flares again, this time worse. Tears sting your eyes and your breath leaves you in ragged gasps. “I… no, I can’t move,” you whimper, choking back a sob. “Shoulder hurts bad. I think I dislocated it.” “Right, stay there, I’m coming to you.” Heron climbs over the lip of the well and starts descending the ladder, the pain of his own injury forgotten. When he reaches you he wraps an arm around your waist. With him supporting your weight you’re able to climb with one hand, slowly and painstakingly back to the top. Your other friends and a few workers and guard are peering anxiously over the edge of the well. When you reach the top they help you over the edge and back onto solid ground. Heron throws his arms around you, heedless of both your injuries. His breathing is as ragged as yours when he whispers in your ear, “When I saw you fall, I thought… I couldn’t-” “Shh,” you whisper, holding him tight with your good arm. “I’m okay.” [if loveInterest === 'burner'] You look up and see Robin leaning over the edge of the well, their eyes frantic. “Can you climb?” they ask, already reaching for the ladder. Your feet find purchase on the rungs and you grab hold of the ladder with your good arm. Your injured arm drops useless at your side and the pain flares again, this time worse. Tears sting your eyes and your breath leaves you in ragged gasps. “I… no, I can’t move,” you whimper, choking back a sob. “Shoulder hurts bad. I think I dislocated it.” “Okay, don’t move, I’m coming.” Robin climbs over the lip of the well and starts descending the ladder. When they reach you they wrap an arm around your waist. With them supporting your weight you’re able to climb with one hand, slowly and painstakingly back to the top. Your other friends and a few workers and guard are peering anxiously over the edge of the well. When you reach the top they help you over the edge and back onto solid ground. Robin enfolds you in their arms, mindful of your injured shoulder. Their breathing is as ragged as yours when they whisper in your ear, “I was so scared when you fell. I didn’t know if, if-” “Shh,” you whisper, holding them tight with your good arm. “I’m okay.” [if loveInterest === 'none'] You look up and see Bear leaning over the edge of the wall, his eyes frantic. “Can you climb?” he asks, already reaching for the ladder. Your feet find purchase on the rungs and you grab hold of the ladder with your good arm. Your injured arm drops useless at your side and the pain flares again, this time worse. Tears sting your eyes and your breath leaves you in ragged gasps. “I… no, I can’t move,” you whimper, choking back a sob. “Shoulder hurts bad. I think I dislocated it.” “Stay there, I’m coming.” Bear climbs over the lip of the well and starts descending the ladder. When he reaches you he wraps an arm around your waist. With him supporting your weight you’re able to climb with one hand, slowly and painstakingly back to the top. Your other friends and a few workers and guard are peering anxiously over the edge of the well. When you reach the top they help you over the edge and back onto solid ground. Bear clasps your uninjured shoulder. “I was so worried when I saw you fall. I’m glad you’re alright.” “You, too,” you say, your eyes on the welts on his arm, ironically familiar. Bear looks at his injured wrist, then your scar, and he smiles—relieved, amused, and exhausted. [continue] Your friends clamor around you, anxious to assure themselves of your well-being. You note the relieved expressions on a few of the workers and guard as well, and a giddy laugh escapes you. You did it. The sun begins to rise, illuminating a surreal landscape. Only the charred frame of the water shed remains. Hundreds of workers mill about, their stupefied gazes drifting from the well, to you, to the guard, to each other. You hear scattered conversations—broken and stilted, but there nonetheless. The enormity of the moment suddenly hits you, and you feel like you're free-falling all over again. The air leaves your lips on a whoosh, carrying with it all your fears and doubts. And what remains, is hope. *You did it*. Lion peers down the well where the broken body of the guard lies on the cavern floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. The waters of the lake lap at his still fingers. Lion scrunches his nose and scowls, and you know immediately what he’s thinking. “That is-” “Don’t say it!” “… unsanitary.” [[Epilogue->EpilogueRebellion_01]]

Ferret drops the whip, breathing heavily, and his body sags to the ground. Then she turns to you, her expression concerned. “You alright?” [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] She reaches for you, one hand gripping your arm and the other gently stroking your throat. “When I saw that bastard hit you…” “I’m alright,” you insist. “You were pretty badass.” “Damn right I was.” You chuckle and lean forward to kiss her. “Thank you, for what you did.” [else] You massage your neck. “Yes. Thank you, for what you did.” [continue] She nods, a grim smile on her face. “It needed to be done.” Ferret turns to study the area and you follow her gaze. A few of the guard have helped Bear to his feet and they seem to be engaged in an animated conversation. Bear smiles and clasps one of the guard on the shoulder. A good indication. Heron is standing with three workers and cradling his wrist. You make a mental note to check him over later. Between their feet lies the inert body of the female guard. You can see the blood pooling beneath her head from here. The pig is down on his knees, his head bowed. Lion stands behind him, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. You swallow and approach the pig, your steps slow but purposeful, your hands clenched into fists at your side. [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

“Is he…?” you ask. “Yeah,” Ferret pants. She drops the whip and his body sags to the ground. Then she turns to you, her expression concerned. “You alright?” [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] She reaches for you, one hand gripping your arm and the other gently stroking your throat. “When I saw that bastard hit you…” “I’m alright,” you insist. “You were pretty badass.” “Damn right I was.” You chuckle and lean forward to kiss her. “Thank you, for what you did.” [else] You massage your neck. “Yes. Thank you, for what you did.” [continue] She nods, a grim smile on her face. “It needed to be done.” Ferret turns to study the area and you follow her gaze. A few of the guard have helped Bear to his feet and they seem to be engaged in an animated conversation. Bear smiles and clasps one of the guard on the shoulder. A good indication. Heron is standing with three workers and cradling his wrist. You make a mental note to check him over later. Between their feet lies the inert body of the female guard. You can see the blood pooling beneath her head from here. The pig is down on his knees, his head bowed. Lion stands behind him, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. You swallow and approach the pig, your steps slow but purposeful, your hands clenched into fists at your side. [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

Ferret nods approvingly and drops the whip, and his body sags to the ground. Then she turns to you, her expression concerned. “You alright?” [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] She reaches for you, one hand gripping your arm and the other gently stroking your throat. “When I saw that bastard hit you…” “I’m alright,” you insist. “You were pretty badass.” “Damn right I was.” You chuckle and lean forward to kiss her. “Thank you, for what you did.” [else] You massage your neck. “Yes. Thank you, for what you did.” [continue] She nods, a grim smile on her face. “It needed to be done.” Ferret turns to study the area and you follow her gaze. A few of the guard have helped Bear to his feet and they seem to be engaged in an animated conversation. Bear smiles and clasps one of the guard on the shoulder. A good indication. Heron is standing with three workers and cradling his wrist. You make a mental note to check him over later. Between their feet lies the inert body of the female guard. You can see the blood pooling beneath her head from here. The pig is down on his knees, his head bowed. Lion stands behind him, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. You swallow and approach the pig, your steps slow but purposeful, your hands clenched into fists at your side. [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

You blink, swallow thickly, try to quiet your thoughts. Blood pumps vigorously beneath your skin, and you look up to meet Heron’s eyes. He’s sitting up, cradling his wrist in his hand. “Is she…?” “Yes,” you say between clenched teeth. The club slips from your still fingers. You draw a few deep breaths, easing your racing heart, then crouch down beside Heron. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] “Let me see your wrist,” you tell him, reaching gingerly for his arm. “I’m more worried about you.” With his free hand he grabs your chin, turning your head to assess you. Then his hand slides down your neck and his gaze roves over your body. “You’re not hurt?” “I’m not, thanks to you.” You lean your forehead against his and he closes his eyes. You feel a warm breath on your cheek as he heaves a relieved sigh. “Let me take care of you,” you urge. “I like the sound of that.” [else] “Let me see your wrist,” you tell him, reaching gingerly for his arm. [continue] You rotate Heron’s wrist gently, testing his mobility and feeling for the bones beneath the skin. As you work you study the scene around you. A few of the guard have helped Bear to his feet and they seem to be engaged in an animated conversation. Bear smiles and clasps one of the guard on the shoulder. A good indication. Ferret and three workers are standing over the limp body of the weasel, a whip wrapped several times around his neck. He’s obviously dead. The pig is down on his knees, his head bowed. Lion stands behind him, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. You turn back to your work. Heron’s jaw is tight, his lips pressed firmly together, and you can tell he’s in pain. The area has already begun to swell and bruise, but you’re able to rotate his wrist without trouble, and nothing feels broken. “You may have a severe sprain, but I don’t think it’s broken,” you murmur in relief. You help Heron to his feet, lifting him by the elbow as he keeps his wrist pressed to his stomach. “When we’re done here I’ll set it back in the clinic.” [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

You blink, swallow thickly, try to quiet your thoughts. Blood pumps vigorously beneath your skin, and you look up to meet Heron’s eyes. He’s sitting up, cradling his wrist in his hand. “Is she…?” “Yes,” you say between clenched teeth. “It’s over.” You draw a few deep breaths, easing your racing heart, then crouch down beside Heron. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] “Let me see your wrist,” you tell him, reaching gingerly for his arm. “I’m more worried about you.” With his free hand he grabs your chin, turning your head to assess you. Then his hand slides down your neck and his gaze roves over your body. “You’re not hurt?” “I’m not, thanks to you.” You lean your forehead against his and he closes his eyes. You feel a warm breath on your cheek as he heaves a relieved sigh. “Let me take care of you,” you urge. “I like the sound of that.” [else] “Let me see your wrist,” you tell him, reaching gingerly for his arm. [continue] You rotate Heron’s wrist gently, testing his mobility and feeling for the bones beneath the skin. As you work you study the scene around you. A few of the guard have helped Bear to his feet and they seem to be engaged in an animated conversation. Bear smiles and clasps one of the guard on the shoulder. A good indication. Ferret and three workers are standing over the limp body of the weasel, a whip wrapped several times around his neck. He’s obviously dead. The pig is down on his knees, his head bowed. Lion stands behind him, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. You turn back to your work. Heron’s jaw is tight, his lips pressed firmly together, and you can tell he’s in pain. The area has already begun to swell and bruise, but you’re able to rotate his wrist without trouble, and nothing feels broken. “You may have a severe sprain, but I don’t think it’s broken,” you murmur in relief. You help Heron to his feet, lifting him by the elbow as he keeps his wrist pressed to his stomach. “When we’re done here I’ll set it back in the clinic.” [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

“{name},” Heron calls to you. He’s sitting up, cradling his wrist in his hand. “I think she’s dead.” “She better be,” you mutter, tossing the club onto her lifeless body. You draw a few deep breaths, easing your racing heart, then crouch down beside Heron. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] “Let me see your wrist,” you tell him, reaching gingerly for his arm. “I’m more worried about you.” With his free hand he grabs your chin, turning your head to assess you. Then his hand slides down your neck and his gaze roves over your body. “You’re not hurt?” “I’m not, thanks to you.” You lean your forehead against his and he closes his eyes. You feel a warm breath on your cheek as he heaves a relieved sigh. “Let me take care of you,” you urge. “I like the sound of that.” [else] “Let me see your wrist,” you tell him, reaching gingerly for his arm. [continue] You rotate Heron’s wrist gently, testing his mobility and feeling for the bones beneath the skin. As you work you study the scene around you. A few of the guard have helped Bear to his feet and they seem to be engaged in an animated conversation. Bear smiles and clasps one of the guard on the shoulder. A good indication. Ferret and three workers are standing over the limp body of the weasel, a whip wrapped several times around his neck. He’s obviously dead. The pig is down on his knees, his head bowed. Lion stands behind him, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. You turn back to your work. Heron’s jaw is tight, his lips pressed firmly together, and you can tell he’s in pain. The area has already begun to swell and bruise, but you’re able to rotate his wrist without trouble, and nothing feels broken. “You may have a severe sprain, but I don’t think it’s broken,” you murmur in relief. You help Heron to his feet, lifting him by the elbow as he keeps his wrist pressed to his stomach. “When we’re done here I’ll set it back in the clinic.” [[Next->Chapter12Rebellion13]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. You still recall the tears she shed in that moment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. [align left] > [[You belatedly realize you’ve dropped the quill and are stroking your belly, which has just begun to round.->RobinEnding1]] > [[Your gaze shifts back to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Robin decided to adopt.->RobinEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->RobinEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. You still recall the tears she shed in that moment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget his tear-streaked face in that moment when you suggested that the two of you adopt the boy - whom you named Victor - together. [align left] > [[You belatedly realize you’ve dropped the quill and are stroking your belly, which has just begun to round.->LionEnding1]] > [[Your gaze shifts back to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Lion decided to adopt another.->LionEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having more children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->LionEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. You still recall the tears she shed in that moment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. [align left] > [[You belatedly realize you’ve dropped the quill and are stroking your belly, which has just begun to round.->HeronEnding1]] > [[Your gaze shifts back to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Heron decided to adopt.->HeronEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->HeronEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. You still recall the tears she shed in that moment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. [align left] > [[Your gaze shifts back to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you decided to adopt.->NoneEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->NoneEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. She asked if you would raise her together, and of course you agreed. [align left] > [[Your gaze shifts to Ferret’s belly, which is just starting to round, and a pleased sigh escapes you.->FerretEnding1]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Ferret decided to adopt another.->FerretEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having more children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->FerretEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. She asked if you would raise her together, and of course you agreed. [align left] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Ferret decided to adopt another.->FerretEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having more children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->FerretEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. You still recall the tears she shed in that moment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget his tear-streaked face in that moment when you suggested that the two of you adopt the boy - whom you named Victor - together. [align left] > [[Your gaze shifts back to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Lion decided to adopt another.->LionEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having more children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->LionEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. You still recall the tears she shed in that moment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. [align left] > [[Your gaze shifts back to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Heron decided to adopt.->HeronEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->HeronEnding3]]

You tap the end of your makeshift quill against the paper, a smile of satisfaction creasing your lips. Ferret found her daughter shortly after you reclaimed the city. You still recall the tears she shed in that moment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. [align left] > [[Your gaze shifts back to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and you and Robin decided to adopt.->RobinEnding2]] > [[Your gaze shifts to the nursery. Many of the children are still unclaimed, and while you aren’t interested in having children, you enjoy visiting the orphans.->RobinEnding3]]

Once affairs in the city began to settle, Ferret approached you about having another child. Your child. It had taken you a moment to respond, as overcome as you were. Beyond the appeal of having a child together, beyond the joy and anticipation, there was something freeing in the decision itself—something defiant and courageous in making the choice. And hopefully, a sibling for Keiko might help the little firecracker better direct her energies. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. Not everything in the city went as peacefully and smoothly, however. While the rebellion itself lasted no more than a night, you are still dealing with the aftermath today. A few weeks after the initial revolt, eight of the old guard attempted their own coupe. Several workers were injured. Two of the guard were killed; the other six were banished beyond the wall. You have seen no sign of them since. It was not an easy adjustment, on either side. The guard no longer exist, and all the former members are now architects or crafts people, helping to build up the city they once kept down. Most of the guard acquiesced without protest, but it did not mean they were readily accepted. There is still much resentment for the guard, understandably so, and there are occasionally small disturbances that you have to deal with. Bear has been instrumental in helping with that. Another difficulty you had to contend with was sleeping arrangements. As workers became more self aware, the idea of a communal sleeping facility became less appealing. The barracks and the workshop were eventually swapped. The multi-tiers and compartmentalized rooms in the workshop were better suited for bedrooms; while they couldn’t have complete privacy, workers were at least separated into smaller, more manageable groups. Meanwhile the looms, spinning wheels, tables, and workbenches were all transferred to the barracks, where the wide open space was better suited for textile work. Governing the city and making these decisions was difficult work, just as Robin had surmised it would be. You, your friends, and Bear took on the role of councilors; but unlike the councilors of old, those weren’t your sole duties. You continued to work among the populace, instructing from within. A sound outside your door interrupts your musings and you turn, twisting out of your chair. Ferret enters the room with Keiko in her arms, the tips of the little girl’s hair damp from her bath. This time, at least, she’s fully clothed. Keiko squeals happily when she sees you and fights to get out of her mother’s grasp. Ferret heaves a sigh and sets the child down, her legs pumping in motion before her feet have even touched the floor. Keiko shouts something that resembles “daddy,” though it’s unclear with her voice pitched high and rimmed with laughter. You chuckle and crouch to greet the small form barreling your way. “Hello, {cycling link for: 'keiko_nickname', choices: ['cub', 'bug', 'precious', 'peanut', 'sparkle', 'princess', 'scamp']},” you coo, scooping her into your arms. “Holy terror, is what she is,” Ferret grumbles. “You should have seen me trying to wrangle her into the bath.” “I saw,” you chuckle. “Can’t imagine where she gets her rebellious nature from.” Ferret throws you a look. “You know,” you begin, your voice teasing, “you really shouldn’t run in-” “If you fucking say ‘in my condition’ I swear I will toss you over the wall, {name}. *In* my condition.” “I’ll just walk back in through the gate.” You lean over the child’s head and plant a quick conciliatory kiss on Ferret’s cheek. She grumbles but looks mollified. It’s then that you notice the small metallic box in one of her hands. “What’s that?” She purses her lips, her expression defensive and… embarrassed? “This was found under the new building site,” she explains, approaching the table. As she walks, she fiddles with a tiny lever on the underside of the box. “Robin helped me repair the gears. They’re good with delicate shit like this.” She sets it down and a bright, tinkling sound pours from the box. It’s music—an upbeat, jaunty little tune that has you tapping your foot in response. Keiko’s eyes alight at the music and she clasps her hands. “Purdy!” You brace the child on your hip and extend your free hand to Ferret. “Dance with me?” She shakes her head. “No, thanks.” “What? Too strenuous in your condition?” Ferret looks ready to follow through on her threat but Keiko’s singsong voice stops her. “Momma dance?” she asks, reaching for her. Ferret smiles wryly and steps into your embrace, one arm at your side, one encircling the small child between you. All three of you smile as you sway to the music. Ferret tickles Keiko’s side and your daughter squeals in laughter. And your laughter mingles with hers. With the cheerful chimes of the music box. With the boisterous whoops of the children outside. With the architects instructing their teams nearby. With the animated conversations of the farmers in the fields. With the voices, so many voices, breathing life into the city. [[The End]]

Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. Not everything in the city went as peacefully and smoothly, however. While the rebellion itself lasted no more than a night, you are still dealing with the aftermath today. A few weeks after the initial revolt, eight of the old guard attempted their own coupe. Several workers were injured. Two of the guard were killed; the other six were banished beyond the wall. You have seen no sign of them since. It was not an easy adjustment, on either side. The guard no longer exist, and all the former members are now architects or crafts people, helping to build up the city they once kept down. Most of the guard acquiesced without protest, but it did not mean they were readily accepted. There is still much resentment for the guard, understandably so, and there are occasionally small disturbances that you have to deal with. Bear has been instrumental in helping with that. Another difficulty you had to contend with was sleeping arrangements. As workers became more self aware, the idea of a communal sleeping facility became less appealing. The barracks and the workshop were eventually swapped. The multi-tiers and compartmentalized rooms in the workshop were better suited for bedrooms; while they couldn’t have complete privacy, workers were at least separated into smaller, more manageable groups. Meanwhile the looms, spinning wheels, tables, and workbenches were all transferred to the barracks, where the wide open space was better suited for textile work. Governing the city and making these decisions was difficult work, just as Robin had surmised it would be. You, your friends, and Bear took on the role of councilors; but unlike the councilors of old, those weren’t your sole duties. You continued to work among the populace, instructing from within. A sound outside your door interrupts your musings and you turn, twisting out of your chair. Ferret enters the room with Keiko in her arms, the tips of the little girl’s hair damp from her bath. This time, at least, she’s fully clothed. [if gender === 'man'] Keiko squeals happily when she sees you and fights to get out of her mother’s grasp. Ferret heaves a sigh and sets the child down, her legs pumping in motion before her feet have even touched the floor. Keiko shouts something that resembles “daddy,” though it’s unclear with her voice pitched high and rimmed with laughter. [if gender === 'woman'] Keiko squeals happily when she sees you and fights to get out of her mother’s grasp. Ferret heaves a sigh and sets the child down, her legs pumping in motion before her feet have even touched the floor. Keiko shouts something that resembles “mommy,” though it’s unclear with her voice pitched high and rimmed with laughter. [if gender === 'worker'] Keiko squeals happily when she sees you and fights to get out of her mother’s grasp. Ferret heaves a sigh and sets the child down, her legs pumping in motion before her feet have even touched the floor. Keiko shouts something that resembles your name, though it’s unclear with her voice pitched high and rimmed with laughter. [continue] You chuckle and crouch to greet the small form barreling your way. “Hello, {cycling link for: 'keiko_nickname', choices: ['cub', 'bug', 'precious', 'peanut', 'sparkle', 'princess', 'scamp']},” you coo, scooping her into your arms. “Holy terror, is what she is,” Ferret grumbles. “You should have seen me trying to wrangle her into the bath.” “I saw,” you chuckle. “Can’t imagine where she gets her rebellious nature from.” Ferret throws you a look. It’s then that you notice the small metallic box in one of her hands. “What’s that?” She purses her lips, her expression defensive and… embarrassed? “This was found under the new building site,” she explains, approaching the table. As she walks, she fiddles with a tiny lever on the underside of the box. “Robin helped me repair the gears. They’re good with delicate shit like this.” She sets it down and a bright, tinkling sound pours from the box. It’s music—an upbeat, jaunty little tune that has you tapping your foot in response. Keiko’s eyes alight at the music and she clasps her hands. “Purdy!” You brace the child on your hip and extend your free hand to Ferret. “Dance with me?” Ferret looks ready to object but Keiko’s singsong voice stops her. “Momma dance?” she asks, reaching for her. Ferret smiles wryly and steps into your embrace, one arm at your side, one encircling the small child between you. All three of you smile as you sway to the music. Ferret tickles Keiko’s side and your daughter squeals in laughter. And your laughter mingles with hers. With the cheerful chimes of the music box. With the boisterous whoops of the children outside. With the architects instructing their teams nearby. With the animated conversations of the farmers in the fields. With the voices, so many voices, breathing life into the city. [[The End]]

In the months following the rebellion, you worked tirelessly to educate the people on the notions of family and kinship. Some took to it readily—like Ferret, they sought out the children they had lost. Some were happy to adopt. But the concept is still alien to most, and several orphans remain in the nursery. You aren’t interested in having another child, but you visit the children as often as you can, along with Heron. The older kids especially love hearing stories about the Circle, which Heron loves to relate with dramatic embellishment. Your gaze is caught by Heron playing ball with a small group of children outside the nursery, in the space where the chamber once stood. The loathsome building had been torn down stone by stone. Most of the area was left open as a playing field. At the end of the small field stands a wooden structure with tiered platforms, perfect for children to climb. Lion had built it for his son. His adopted son, his mentor’s child. Lion found him in the nursery shortly after the uprising. You will never forget the expression on his face when the boy recognized him. Not everything in the city went as peacefully and smoothly, however. While the rebellion itself lasted no more than a night, you are still dealing with the aftermath today. A few weeks after the initial revolt, eight of the old guard attempted their own coupe. Several workers were injured. Two of the guard were killed; the other six were banished beyond the wall. You have seen no sign of them since. It was not an easy adjustment, on either side. The guard no longer exist, and all the former members are now architects or crafts people, helping to build up the city they once kept down. Most of the guard acquiesced without protest, but it did not mean they were readily accepted. There is still much resentment for the guard, understandably so, and there are occasionally small disturbances that you have to deal with. Bear has been instrumental in helping with that. Another difficulty you had to contend with was sleeping arrangements. As workers became more self aware, the idea of a communal sleeping facility became less appealing. The barracks and the workshop were eventually swapped. The multi-tiers and compartmentalized rooms in the workshop were better suited for bedrooms; while they couldn’t have complete privacy, workers were at least separated into smaller, more manageable groups. Meanwhile the looms, spinning wheels, tables, and workbenches were all transferred to the barracks, where the wide open space was better suited for textile work. Governing the city and making these decisions was difficult work, just as Robin had surmised it would be. You, your friends, and Bear took on the role of councilors; but unlike the councilors of old, those weren’t your sole duties. You continued to work among the populace, instructing from within. A sound outside your door interrupts your musings and you turn, twisting out of your chair. Ferret enters the room with Keiko in her arms, the tips of the little girl’s hair damp from her bath. This time, at least, she’s fully clothed. [if gender === 'man'] Keiko squeals happily when she sees you and fights to get out of her mother’s grasp. Ferret heaves a sigh and sets the child down, her legs pumping in motion before her feet have even touched the floor. Keiko shouts something that resembles “daddy,” though it’s unclear with her voice pitched high and rimmed with laughter. [if gender === 'woman'] Keiko squeals happily when she sees you and fights to get out of her mother’s grasp. Ferret heaves a sigh and sets the child down, her legs pumping in motion before her feet have even touched the floor. Keiko shouts something that resembles “mommy,” though it’s unclear with her voice pitched high and rimmed with laughter. [if gender === 'worker'] Keiko squeals happily when she sees you and fights to get out of her mother’s grasp. Ferret heaves a sigh and sets the child down, her legs pumping in motion before her feet have even touched the floor. Keiko shouts something that resembles your name, though it’s unclear with her voice pitched high and rimmed with laughter. [continue] You chuckle and crouch to greet the small form barreling your way. “Hello, {cycling link for: 'keiko_nickname', choices: ['cub', 'bug', 'precious', 'peanut', 'sparkle', 'princess', 'scamp']},” you coo, scooping her into your arms. “Holy terror, is what she is,” Ferret grumbles. “You should have seen me trying to wrangle her into the bath.” “I saw,” you chuckle. “Can’t imagine where she gets her rebellious nature from.” Ferret throws you a look. It’s then that you notice the small metallic box in one of her hands. “What’s that?” She purses her lips, her expression defensive and… embarrassed? “This was found under the new building site,” she explains, approaching the table. As she walks, she fiddles with a tiny lever on the underside of the box. “Robin helped me repair the gears. They’re good with delicate shit like this.” She sets it down and a bright, tinkling sound pours from the box. It’s music—an upbeat, jaunty little tune that has you tapping your foot in response. Keiko’s eyes alight at the music and she clasps her hands. “Purdy!” You brace the child on your hip and extend your free hand to Ferret. “Dance with me?” Ferret looks ready to object but Keiko’s singsong voice stops her. “Momma dance?” she asks, reaching for her. Ferret smiles wryly and steps into your embrace, one arm at your side, one encircling the small child between you. All three of you smile as you sway to the music. Ferret tickles Keiko’s side and your daughter squeals in laughter. And your laughter mingles with hers. With the cheerful chimes of the music box. With the boisterous whoops of the children outside. With the architects instructing their teams nearby. With the animated conversations of the farmers in the fields. With the voices, so many voices, breathing life into the city. [[The End]]

In the months following the rebellion, you worked tirelessly to educate the people on the notions of family and kinship. Gradually, you came to realize you wanted a child with Lion. His child. Beyond the appeal of having a child together, beyond the joy and anticipation, there was something freeing in the decision itself—something defiant and courageous in making the choice. You faltered when broaching the subject, your request hopeful yet anxious, and his initial silence only increased your fears. But then he drew you into his arms, his hold desperate and trembling, his eyes damp with tears, and whispered in your ear his wish for the same. Not everything in the city went as peacefully and smoothly, however. While the rebellion itself lasted no more than a night, you are still dealing with the aftermath today. A few weeks after the initial revolt, eight of the old guard attempted their own coupe. Several workers were injured. Two of the guard were killed; the other six were banished beyond the wall. You have seen no sign of them since. It was not an easy adjustment, on either side. The guard no longer exist, and all the former members are now architects or crafts people, helping to build up the city they had once kept down. Most of the guard acquiesced without protest, but it did not mean they were readily accepted. There is still much resentment for the guard, understandably so, and there are occasionally small disturbances that you have to deal with. Bear has been instrumental in helping with that. Another difficulty you had to contend with was sleeping arrangements. As workers became more self aware, the idea of a communal sleeping facility became less appealing. The barracks and the workshop were eventually swapped. The multi-tiers and compartmentalized rooms in the workshop were better suited for bedrooms; while they couldn’t have complete privacy, workers were at least separated into smaller, more manageable groups. Meanwhile the looms, spinning wheels, tables, and workbenches were all transferred to the barracks, where the wide open space was better suited for textile work. Governing the city and making these decisions is difficult work, just as Robin had surmised it would be. You, your friends, and Bear took on the role of councilors; but unlike the councilors of old, those aren’t your sole duties. You continue to work among the populace, instructing from within. A sound outside your door interrupts your musings and you turn, twisting out of your chair. Lion enters the room, his eyes warm as they regard you. You move to greet him and he plants a brief kiss on your lips. “Hello, my love.” Then he lays a gentle hand against your stomach, his expression infinitely tender. “And hello, my little one.” You notice he’s clenching some kind of metallic box in his other hand. “What have you got there?” He holds the object up, and the sunlight coming in from the window reflects off the filigreed pattern curling around the sides of the box. “This was found under the new building site,” he explains, approaching the table. As he walks, he fiddles with a tiny lever on the underside of the box. “Robin helped me repair the gears. They are surprisingly skilled with delicate work like this.” He sets it down and a bright, tinkling sound pours from the box. It’s music—an upbeat, jaunty little tune that has you tapping your foot in response. “Dance with me?” he asks, smiling as he offers you his hand. You step into his embrace, his arms warm around you, and the two of you sway to the music. You think about what it took to get to this moment, about the promise of the future, and a contented laugh spills over your lips. And his laughter mingles with yours. With the cheerful chimes of the music box. With the boisterous whoops of the children outside. With the architects instructing their teams nearby. With the animated conversations of the farmers in the fields. With the voices, so many voices, breathing life into the city. [[The End]]

In the months following the rebellion, you worked tirelessly to educate the people on the notions of family and kinship. Gradually, you came to realize you wanted a child with Heron. His child. Beyond the appeal of having a child together, beyond the joy and anticipation, there was something freeing in the decision itself—something defiant and courageous in making the choice. You faltered when broaching the subject, your request hopeful yet anxious, but you needn’t have been concerned. You hadn't even finished asking the question before Heron shouted his joyous agreement, peppering your face in kisses, and insisting that you start trying right then and there. Not everything in the city went as peacefully and smoothly, however. While the rebellion itself lasted no more than a night, you are still dealing with the aftermath today. A few weeks after the initial revolt, eight of the old guard attempted their own coupe. Several workers were injured. Two of the guard were killed; the other six were banished beyond the wall. You have seen no sign of them since. It was not an easy adjustment, on either side. The guard no longer exist, and all the former members are now architects or crafts people, helping to build up the city they had once kept down. Most of the guard acquiesced without protest, but it did not mean they were readily accepted. There is still much resentment for the guard, understandably so, and there are occasionally small disturbances that you have to deal with. Bear has been instrumental in helping with that. Another difficulty you had to contend with was sleeping arrangements. As workers became more self aware, the idea of a communal sleeping facility became less appealing. The barracks and the workshop were eventually swapped. The multi-tiers and compartmentalized rooms in the workshop were better suited for bedrooms; while they couldn’t have complete privacy, workers were at least separated into smaller, more manageable groups. Meanwhile the looms, spinning wheels, tables, and workbenches were all transferred to the barracks, where the wide open space was better suited for textile work. Governing the city and making these decisions is difficult work, just as Robin had surmised it would be. You, your friends, and Bear took on the role of councilors; but unlike the councilors of old, those aren’t your sole duties. You continue to work among the populace, instructing from within. A sound outside your door interrupts your musings and you turn, twisting out of your chair. Heron smiles as he enters the room, his long stride carrying him quickly to you. “Whew, those kids have some energy,” he exclaims. “Oh, like you didn’t?” “I was an angel,” he smirks. He slides a hand around your waist and leans in to kiss you. Then his hand roves to your stomach. “You be nice to your mother, you hear? No boxing in there.” You laugh and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. That’s when you notice the small metallic box in his other hand. “What have you got there?” He holds the object up, and the sunlight coming in from the window reflects off the filigreed pattern curling around the sides of the box. “This was found under the new building site,” he explains, approaching the table. As he walks, he fiddles with a tiny lever on the underside of the box. “Robin helped me repair the gears. They’ve got a knack for delicate work like this.” He sets it down and a bright, tinkling sound pours from the box. It’s music—an upbeat, jaunty little tune that has you tapping your foot in response. “Dance with me?” he asks, smiling as he offers you his hand. You step into his embrace, his arms warm around you, and the two of you sway to the music. You think about what it took to get to this moment, about the promise of the future, and a contented laugh spills over your lips. And his laughter mingles with yours. With the cheerful chimes of the music box. With the boisterous whoops of the children outside. With the architects instructing their teams nearby. With the animated conversations of the farmers in the fields. With the voices, so many voices, breathing life into the city. [[The End]]

In the months following the rebellion, you worked tirelessly to educate the people on the notions of family and kinship. Gradually, you came to realize you wanted a child with Robin. Their child. Beyond the appeal of having a child together, beyond the joy and anticipation, there was something freeing in the decision itself—something defiant and courageous in making the choice. You faltered when broaching the subject, your request hopeful yet anxious, but you needn’t had been worried. Robin’s face immediately lit up and they confessed they had been hoping for the same. They grinned, delighted and eager, and suggested that you start trying immediately. Then their face flushed as red as their hair and they quickly stuttered an apology, explaining they hadn’t meant it like *that*. Not everything in the city went as peacefully and smoothly, however. While the rebellion itself lasted no more than a night, you are still dealing with the aftermath today. A few weeks after the initial revolt, eight of the old guard attempted their own coupe. Several workers were injured. Two of the guard were killed; the other six were banished beyond the wall. You have seen no sign of them since. It was not an easy adjustment, on either side. The guard no longer exist, and all the former members are now architects or crafts people, helping to build up the city they had once kept down. Most of the guard acquiesced without protest, but it did not mean they were readily accepted. There is still much resentment for the guard, understandably so, and there are occasionally small disturbances that you have to deal with. Bear has been instrumental in helping with that. Another difficulty you had to contend with was sleeping arrangements. As workers became more self aware, the idea of a communal sleeping facility became less appealing. The barracks and the workshop were eventually swapped. The multi-tiers and compartmentalized rooms in the workshop were better suited for bedrooms; while they couldn’t have complete privacy, workers were at least separated into smaller, more manageable groups. Meanwhile the looms, spinning wheels, tables, and workbenches were all transferred to the barracks, where the wide open space was better suited for textile work. Governing the city and making these decisions is difficult work, just as Robin had surmised it would be. You, your friends, and Bear took on the role of councilors; but unlike the councilors of old, those aren’t your sole duties. You continue to work among the populace, instructing from within. A sound outside your door interrupts your musings and you turn, twisting out of your chair. Robin smiles as they enter the room. “Hello, {name}. I hope I’m not disturbing you?” “You’re never a disturbance, Robin.” You move to greet them and they plant a brief kiss on your cheek. Then they lay a gentle hand against your stomach, their expression infinitely tender. “And hello to you, too, dearest.” You notice they’re clenching some kind of metallic box in their other hand. “What have you got there?” They hold the object up, and the sunlight coming in from the window reflects off the filigreed pattern curling around the sides of the box. “This was found under the new building site,” they explain, approaching the table. As they walk, they fiddle with a tiny lever on the underside of the box. “It took some work but I was able to repair the gears.” They set it down and a bright, tinkling sound pours from the box. It’s music—an upbeat, jaunty little tune that has you tapping your foot in response. “Dance with me?” they ask, smiling as they offer you their hand. You step into their embrace, their arms warm around you, and the two of you sway to the music. You think about what it took to get to this moment, about the promise of the future, and a contented laugh spills over your lips. And their laughter mingles with yours. With the cheerful chimes of the music box. With the boisterous whoops of the children outside. With the architects instructing their teams nearby. With the animated conversations of the farmers in the fields. With the voices, so many voices, breathing life into the city. [[The End]]

[align center] __Thank you for reading Viatica! I hope you enjoyed it.__ __This has been an amazing experience. Your support and encouragement have been *my* viatica, my provisions on this journey. Whether you've followed along from the start or only newly discovered this story, know that I appreciate you.__ __Thank you!__

~~Chapter 12~~ You step through the doors of your clinic room and stop, peering into the darkness. You’ve spent half your life in this room, you know it by heart—every shadow, every crevice, every divot in the wall and every scuff on the floor. But tonight, the room seems alien to you. If everything goes as planned, this will be the last time you set foot in this room. It feels… [align left] > [[… sad.->Chapter12Escape_Lion01]] > [[... bittersweet.->Chapter12Escape_Lion02]] > [[... liberating.->Chapter12Escape_Lion03]] > [[... exciting.->Chapter12Escape_Lion04]]

~~Chapter 12~~ You step through the doors of your clinic room and stop, peering into the darkness. You’ve spent half your life in this room, you know it by heart—every shadow, every crevice, every divot in the wall and every scuff on the floor. But tonight, the room seems alien to you. If everything goes as planned, this will be the last time you set foot in this room. It feels… [align left] > [[… sad.->Chapter12Escape_Heron01]] > [[... bittersweet.->Chapter12Escape_Heron02]] > [[... liberating.->Chapter12Escape_Heron03]] > [[... exciting.->Chapter12Escape_Heron04]]

~~Chapter 12~~ You step through the doors of your clinic room and stop, peering into the darkness. You’ve spent half your life in this room, you know it by heart—every shadow, every crevice, every divot in the wall and every scuff on the floor. But tonight, the room seems alien to you. If everything goes as planned, this will be the last time you set foot in this room. It feels… [align left] > [[… sad.->Chapter12Escape_Ferret01]] > [[... bittersweet.->Chapter12Escape_Ferret02]] > [[... liberating.->Chapter12Escape_Ferret03]] > [[... exciting.->Chapter12Escape_Ferret04]]

~~Chapter 12~~ You step through the doors of your clinic room and stop, peering into the darkness. You’ve spent half your life in this room, you know it by heart—every shadow, every crevice, every divot in the wall and every scuff on the floor. But tonight, the room seems alien to you. If everything goes as planned, this will be the last time you set foot in this room. It feels… [align left] > [[… sad.->Chapter12Escape_Robin01]] > [[... bittersweet.->Chapter12Escape_Robin02]] > [[... liberating.->Chapter12Escape_Robin03]] > [[... exciting.->Chapter12Escape_Robin04]]

~~Chapter 12~~ You step through the doors of your clinic room and stop, peering into the darkness. You’ve spent half your life in this room, you know it by heart—every shadow, every crevice, every divot in the wall and every scuff on the floor. But tonight, the room seems alien to you. If everything goes as planned, this will be the last time you set foot in this room. It feels… [align left] > [[… sad.->Chapter12Escape_Bear01]] > [[... bittersweet.->Chapter12Escape_Bear02]] > [[... liberating.->Chapter12Escape_Bear03]] > [[... exciting.->Chapter12Escape_Bear04]]

This room has always been a haven for you, the one thing you could control in this turbulent city. Letting go of this room means letting go of something familiar, something safe. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_Lion05'}

If not for this room, your journey tonight may never have been. From that window you watched the fateful lesson that started it all. On that cot you treated Lion. In that corner, you mourned the loss of Fawn and Bison. There are difficult memories here, but there are also good ones. Meaningful ones. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_Lion05'}

You had always thought of this room as a haven, the one thing you could control. But after the deaths of Fawn and Bison, it became your prison. No matter how many wounds you healed, how many lives you saved, you couldn’t save the ones that mattered most. The room is a constant reminder that in this city, you are *not* in control. To walk out of it, to turn your back on it, is the most freeing thing you can do. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_Lion05'}

Despite the danger, you are excited to finally be free of this place. Your life up till now has been defined by these four walls, but no longer. Tonight, there are no more walls, no more rules. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_Lion05'}

“Something wrong?” Lion asks from behind you. Though he whispers, his voice resonates in the small room. You shake your head and throw him a rueful smile. “Not anymore.” “Shall we begin?” You instruct Lion on which tinctures and medicines to grab. You wrap the glass vials in cloth before dropping them into the bags, so they don’t shatter and break over the journey. You move quickly, stealing glances toward the circle as you work, both of you keenly aware that time is slipping from you. When you have everything, you cinch the bags closed and leave the clinic as silently as you entered it. When you arrive back at the circle, Bear and Ferret are already there. Heron and Robin join you shortly after. You set all the bags atop the circle and inspect the supplies—six large duffles in total filled with clothes, blankets, food, flasks of water, medicine, and tools, along with a few smaller pouches with seeds and sundries. You meet Bear’s eye and he gives you a brief nod, then he moves off toward the hall, slipping between the buildings. “What do we do when they get here?” Robin asks nervously, twisting their hands in front of them. “Do we talk? Attack? If we don’t… if they live, what do we do with them?” “I think it would be prudent to prepare for a fight,” Lion replies, hefting a pickaxe. “And if we do not kill them, we can tie them up and leave them on the circle.” He gestures to the platform. “Make them a lesson, that’s fitting,” Heron mutters. He inspects the supply of tools and pulls out a shovel, while Ferret grabs a hammer. [align left] > [[You choose a shovel.->Chapter12Escape_06]] > [[You choose a chisel.->Chapter12Escape_07]] > [[You are uncomfortable with carrying a weapon and choose not to arm yourself.->Chapter12Escape_08]]

“Everything okay?” Heron asks from behind you. Though he whispers, his voice resonates in the small room. You shake your head and throw him a rueful smile. “It will be.” “Then let’s get started.” You instruct Heron on which tinctures and medicines to grab. You wrap the glass vials in cloth before dropping them into the bags, so they don’t shatter and break over the journey. You move quickly, stealing glances toward the circle as you work, both of you keenly aware that time is slipping from you. When you have everything, you cinch the bags closed and leave the clinic as silently as you entered it. When you arrive back at the circle, Lion and Ferret are already there. Bear and Robin join you shortly after. You set all the bags atop the circle and inspect the supplies—six large duffles in total filled with clothes, blankets, food, flasks of water, medicine, and tools, along with a few smaller pouches with seeds and sundries. You meet Bear’s eye and he gives you a brief nod, then he moves off toward the hall, slipping between the buildings. “What do we do when they get here?” Robin asks nervously, twisting their hands in front of them. “Do we talk? Attack? If we don’t… if they live, what do we do with them?” “I think it would be prudent to prepare for a fight,” Lion replies, hefting a pickaxe. “And if we do not kill them, we can tie them up and leave them on the circle.” He gestures to the platform. “Make them a lesson, that’s fitting,” Heron mutters. He inspects the supply of tools and pulls out a shovel, while Ferret grabs a hammer. [align left] > [[You choose a shovel.->Chapter12Escape_06]] > [[You choose a chisel.->Chapter12Escape_07]] > [[You are uncomfortable with carrying a weapon and choose not to arm yourself.->Chapter12Escape_08]]

“What's wrong?” Ferret asks from behind you. Though she whispers, her voice resonates in the small room. You shake your head and throw her a rueful smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” “Then let’s get moving.” You instruct Ferret on which tinctures and medicines to grab. You wrap the glass vials in cloth before dropping them into the bags, so they don’t shatter and break over the journey. You move quickly, stealing glances toward the circle as you work, both of you keenly aware that time is slipping from you. When you have everything, you cinch the bags closed and leave the clinic as silently as you entered it. When you arrive back at the circle, Bear and Lion are already there. Heron and Robin join you shortly after. You set all the bags atop the circle and inspect the supplies—six large duffles in total filled with clothes, blankets, food, flasks of water, medicine, and tools, along with a few smaller pouches with seeds and sundries. You meet Bear’s eye and he gives you a brief nod, then he moves off toward the hall, slipping between the buildings. “What do we do when they get here?” Robin asks nervously, twisting their hands in front of them. “Do we talk? Attack? If we don’t… if they live, what do we do with them?” “I think it would be prudent to prepare for a fight,” Lion replies, hefting a pickaxe. “And if we do not kill them, we can tie them up and leave them on the circle.” He gestures to the platform. “Make them a lesson, that’s fitting,” Heron mutters. He inspects the supply of tools and pulls out a shovel, while Ferret grabs a hammer. [align left] > [[You choose a shovel.->Chapter12Escape_06]] > [[You choose a chisel.->Chapter12Escape_07]] > [[You are uncomfortable with carrying a weapon and choose not to arm yourself.->Chapter12Escape_08]]

hasShovel: true hasChisel: false hasHands: false hasClub: false hasWhip: false hasUnarmed: false -- Ferret crouches behind the far side of the circle, out of sight. Robin lingers back with the supplies, while you, Lion, and Heron wait above the platform by the stairs. Time moves differently as you wait—too fast and too slow at once. Finally you hear clipped, muffled voices. Four figures emerge from the darkened streets, their faces illuminated by the fire on the circle platform. Bear is in the lead, followed by the three ringleaders. When the pig sees you he rushes forward, his face a blotched, mottled fury. He doesn’t even seem to notice the open stairwell, his gaze intent on you and the weapons in your hands. [[He points his club at the three of you and shouts, “You dare?!”->Chapter12Escape_09]]

hasShovel: false hasChisel: true hasHands: false hasClub: false hasWhip: false hasUnarmed: false -- Ferret crouches behind the far side of the circle, out of sight. Robin lingers back with the supplies, while you, Lion, and Heron wait above the platform by the stairs. Time moves differently as you wait—too fast and too slow at once. Finally you hear clipped, muffled voices. Four figures emerge from the darkened streets, their faces illuminated by the fire on the circle platform. Bear is in the lead, followed by the three ringleaders. When the pig sees you he rushes forward, his face a blotched, mottled fury. He doesn’t even seem to notice the open stairwell, his gaze intent on you and the weapons in your hands. [[He points his club at the three of you and shouts, “You dare?!”->Chapter12Escape_09]]

hasShovel: false hasChisel: false hasHands: true hasClub: false hasWhip: false hasUnarmed: false -- Ferret crouches behind the far side of the circle, out of sight. Robin lingers back with the supplies, while you, Lion, and Heron wait above the platform by the stairs. Time moves differently as you wait—too fast and too slow at once. Finally you hear clipped, muffled voices. Four figures emerge from the darkened streets, their faces illuminated by the fire on the circle platform. Bear is in the lead, followed by the three ringleaders. When the pig sees you he rushes forward, his face a blotched, mottled fury. He doesn’t even seem to notice the open stairwell, his gaze intent on you and the weapons in your hands. [[He points his club at the three of you and shouts, “You dare?!”->Chapter12Escape_09]]

“Everything alright?” Robin asks from behind you. Though they whisper, their voice resonates in the small room. You shake your head and throw them a rueful smile. “Yes, everything is fine.” “So, what do we need?” You instruct Robin on which tinctures and medicines to grab. You wrap the glass vials in cloth before dropping them into the bags, so they don’t shatter and break over the journey. You move quickly, stealing glances toward the circle as you work, both of you keenly aware that time is slipping from you. When you have everything, you cinch the bags closed and leave the clinic as silently as you entered it. When you arrive back at the circle, Lion and Ferret are already there. Heron and Bear join you shortly after. You set all the bags atop the circle and inspect the supplies—six large duffles in total filled with clothes, blankets, food, flasks of water, medicine, and tools, along with a few smaller pouches with seeds and sundries. You meet Bear’s eye and he gives you a brief nod, then he moves off toward the hall, slipping between the buildings. “What do we do when they get here?” Robin asks nervously, twisting their hands in front of them. “Do we talk? Attack? If we don’t… if they live, what do we do with them?” “I think it would be prudent to prepare for a fight,” Lion replies, hefting a pickaxe. “And if we do not kill them, we can tie them up and leave them on the circle.” He gestures to the platform. “Make them a lesson, that’s fitting,” Heron mutters. He inspects the supply of tools and pulls out a shovel, while Ferret grabs a hammer. [align left] > [[You choose a shovel.->Chapter12Escape_06]] > [[You choose a chisel.->Chapter12Escape_07]] > [[You are uncomfortable with carrying a weapon and choose not to arm yourself.->Chapter12Escape_08]]

“Something wrong?” Bear asks from behind you. Though he whispers, his voice resonates in the small room. You shake your head and throw him a rueful smile. “Not anymore.” “Then let’s be quick.” You instruct Bear on which tinctures and medicines to grab. You wrap the glass vials in cloth before dropping them into the bags, so they don’t shatter and break over the journey. You move quickly, stealing glances toward the circle as you work, both of you keenly aware that time is slipping from you. When you have everything, you cinch the bags closed and leave the clinic as silently as you entered it. When you arrive back at the circle, Lion and Ferret are already there. Heron and Robin join you shortly after. You set all the bags atop the circle and inspect the supplies—six large duffles filled with clothes, blankets, food, flasks of water, medicine, and tools, along with a few smaller pouches with seeds and sundries. You meet Bear’s eye and he gives you a brief nod, then he moves off toward the hall, slipping between the buildings. “What do we do when they get here?” Robin asks nervously, twisting their hands in front of them. “Do we talk? Attack? If we don’t… if they live, what do we do with them?” “I think it would be prudent to prepare for a fight,” Lion replies, hefting a pickaxe. “And if we do not kill them, we can tie them up and leave them on the circle.” He gestures to the platform. “Make them a lesson, that’s fitting,” Heron mutters. He inspects the supply of tools and pulls out a shovel, while Ferret grabs a hammer. [align left] > [[You choose a shovel.->Chapter12Escape_06]] > [[You choose a chisel.->Chapter12Escape_07]] > [[You are uncomfortable with carrying a weapon and choose not to arm yourself.->Chapter12Escape_08]]

[if persona === 'Brawler'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_10'} [if persona === 'Pathfinder'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_10'} [if persona === 'Leader'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_10'} [if persona === 'Supporter'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_11'} [if persona === 'Observer'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_11'} [if persona === 'Follower'] {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_11'}

The rage in his voice triggers something inside you, something proud, exhausted. *Angry*. His eyes gleam with madness, his face ugly in its fury, but you feel no fear. You step forward and raise your chin. “No, how dare *you*.” You don’t shout, but your voice feels heavier to you, deafening, as loud as the bell in the circle and just as solid, each word cold and commanding. Everyone - the guard, your friends - all still at your words. “How dare you treat people like this? How dare you threaten and hurt us? How dare you think you have any right to command us? *You have no right*!” You point at the trio and glare at them. “You’re ignorant, hateful, cowardly men, and you no longer have any power over us. We’re leaving, but before we do, we will make sure everyone knows your secrets.” The weasel and the wasp shuffle on their feet, their expressions decidedly less certain than they were a moment before. They look to the pig for direction. Their leader listened to you in stunned silence, but now his eyes narrow, his brow dipping furiously, the mad gleam returning to his dark eyes. “You no command me.” He raises his club and charges toward you. “I punish you!” Lion jumps off the platform and rushes the ringleader. The other two guard spring into action. Ferret yells and rushes from her hiding spot, cutting off the weasel and forcing his attention on her. The wasp falters, her gaze switching between her two engaged partners, unsure of who to assist. The decision is made for her when Heron jumps off the platform and approaches. “You don’t have to do this,” he attempts to reason with her. To anyone else his voice would sound sure and steady, but you recognize the hint of distress underlying it. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He grips the shovel tightly in both hands, though he doesn’t attack. “Filthy feeder,” the guard sneers. She lashes her whip in the air, releasing a loud crack. The noise paralyzes Heron. His legs stiffen, jaw clenches, sweat beads on his brow. His eyes widen, his gaze somehow both fixed on the guard and far off at the same time. The wasp sneers and raises the whip again. You shout and step off the platform but a body barrels past you, reaching the duo first. Bear shields Heron and throws up his right arm just as the whip comes down, lashing around his wrist. He staggers and grunts as the whip tears into his skin. His hand fists around the cord and he shifts his weight, yanking the whip out of the hands of the female guard. She loses her balance and stumbles to her knees. Bear staggers back, gripping his arm. The encounter frees Heron from his inertia. He grips Bear’s shoulder and tugs the old guard behind him. Then he snarls and hefts the shovel, his pale eyes like ice. Three of your friends are engaged in battle with the guard. Who do you help? [align left] > [[Lion with the pig.->Chapter12Escape_Lion12]] > [[Ferret with the weasel.->Chapter12Escape_Ferret12]] > [[Heron with the wasp.->Chapter12Escape_Heron12]]

The rage in his voice paralyzes you, and you’re caught by the mad gleam in his eyes. You can feel your resolve slipping, the doubt and fear creeping in. This was a bad idea—you should have fled when you had the chance. A hand grips your shoulder, and you tear yourself away from that furious gaze. Lion pulls you behind him, then steps forward, glaring down at the trio. “No, how dare *you*.” He doesn’t shout, but his voice is deafening, unyielding, as loud as the bell in the circle and just as solid. You’ve never heard your friend use such a cold, commanding tone before, and it captivates you as much as it does the guard. “How dare you treat people like this? How dare you threaten and hurt us? How dare you think you have any right to command us? *You have no right*!” He points his pickaxe at the leader. “You are ignorant, hateful, cowardly men, and you no longer have any power over us. We are leaving, but before we do, we will make sure everyone knows your secrets.” The weasel and the wasp shuffle on their feet, their expressions decidedly less certain than they were a moment before. They look to the pig for direction. Their leader listened to Lion in stunned silence, but now his eyes narrow, his brow dipping furiously, the mad gleam returning to his dark eyes. “You no command me.” He raises his club and charges toward Lion, who rushes forward to meet him. “I punish you!” The other two guard spring into action. Ferret yells and rushes from her hiding spot, cutting off the weasel and forcing his attention on her. The wasp falters, her gaze switching between her two engaged partners, unsure of who to assist. The decision is made for her when Heron jumps off the platform and approaches. “You don’t have to do this,” he attempts to reason with her. To anyone else his voice would sound sure and steady, but you recognize the hint of distress underlying it. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He grips the shovel tightly in both hands, though he doesn’t attack. “Filthy feeder,” the guard sneers. She lashes her whip in the air, releasing a loud crack. The noise paralyzes Heron. His legs stiffen, jaw clenches, sweat beads on his brow. His eyes widen, his gaze somehow both fixed on the guard and far off at the same time. The wasp sneers and raises the whip again. You shout and step off the platform but a body barrels past you, reaching the duo first. Bear shields Heron and throws up his right arm just as the whip comes down, lashing around his wrist. He staggers and grunts as the whip tears into his skin. His hand fists around the cord and he shifts his weight, yanking the whip out of the hands of the female guard. She loses her balance and stumbles to her knees. Bear staggers back, gripping his arm. The encounter frees Heron from his inertia. He grips Bear’s shoulder and tugs the old guard behind him. Then he snarls and hefts the shovel, his pale eyes like ice. Three of your friends are engaged in battle with the guard. Who do you help? [align left] > [[Lion with the pig.->Chapter12Escape_Lion12]] > [[Ferret with the weasel.->Chapter12Escape_Ferret12]] > [[Heron with the wasp.->Chapter12Escape_Heron12]]

You run to Lion’s side. As you do, you see Robin grab a length of rope and rush toward Ferret. Bear remains with Heron. [if hasShovel] Lion and the pig circle each other slowly, each closely gauging the other. The guard holds his club up in front of him, and Lion matches his stance with the pickaxe. Your fingers curl around the shovel in your hand, trembling but determined. The weight of the weapon is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Lion’s eyes flick to you as you approach and the pig lunges forward. Lion swings the pickaxe in a broad side strike, but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. You rush forward and raise your shovel to block his strike. Your weapons clash together and the force makes your arms tremble but you hold your ground, twisting your arm and swinging upward. He blocks your attempt and heaves forward, throwing his large frame into the shove and forcing you backward. You spy Lion behind the guard, pickaxe raised, but the man must have seen your gaze shift because he turns just as Lion brings the tool down. The guard parries with his club, hooking the pickaxe right below the metal head and wrenching it from Lion’s hands. But this leaves his back to you. You kick hard against the back of his knee and he staggers to his knees with a grunt of pain. Lion tackles him to the ground, wrenching the guard’s club free in the tousle. The two grapple as you stand over them, shovel clutched in your hands, watching for an opening. Eventually, Lion pins the guard onto his stomach. He wrenches his arms behind his back and shoves his knee into the pig’s back between his shoulder blades. [if hasChisel] Lion and the pig circle each other slowly, each closely gauging the other. The guard holds his club up in front of him, and Lion matches his stance with the pickaxe. Your fingers curl around the chisel in your hand, trembling but determined. The feel of the weapon is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Lion’s eyes flick to you as you approach and the pig lunges forward. Lion swings the pickaxe in a broad side strike, but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. He yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You spring to your feet, pivoting as you do and swinging the chisel upward. You wince at the sickening crunch when it pierces the bones in the guard’s hand. He howls in pain and drops the club, clutching at his injured hand as blood seeps between his fingers. Lion tackles him to the ground and you rush to retrieve the guard’s club. You stand over the men as they grapple, club clutched in your hands, watching for an opening. Eventually, Lion pins the guard onto his stomach. He wrenches his arms behind his back and shoves his knee into the pig’s back between his shoulder blades. [if hasHands] Lion and the pig circle each other slowly, each closely gauging the other. The guard holds his club up in front of him, and Lion matches his stance with the pickaxe. Lion’s eyes flick to you as you approach and the pig lunges forward. Lion swings the pickaxe in a broad side stroke but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. He yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet, grabbing at his club as you do. You struggle for a moment, trying to wrench it from his hands. You spy Lion behind the guard, pickaxe raised, but the man must have seen your gaze shift because he turns just as Lion brings the tool down. The guard parries with his club, hooking the pickaxe right below the metal head and wrenching it from Lion’s hands. But this leaves his back to you. You kick hard against the back of his knee and he staggers to his knees with a grunt of pain. Lion tackles him to the ground, wrenching the guard’s club free in the tousle. You rush to retrieve it as the two men grapple. You stand over them, club clutched in your hands, watching for an opening. Eventually, Lion pins the guard onto his stomach. He wrenches his arms behind his back and shoves his knee into the pig’s back between his shoulder blades. [continue] The guard howls and thrashes about, unable to break free. You slowly lower your arms and drop your weapon, satisfied with his confinement. You catch Lion’s eye, his gaze enquiring. “{name}, what would you like me to do with him?” He pulls his prisoner up to his knees, twisting the guard’s arms up behind his neck in an iron grip. The guard yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. He looks crazed, furious, and you’re certain no words will sway him. You study the scene around you. Ferret has the weasel down on his knees with his back to her, a length of rope wrapped tightly about his neck. He claws at the rope, still alive, though not for much longer if you don’t speak up. Heron and Bear have the female guard pinned to the ground between them. Bear holds the shovel above her head, ready to bring it down at a word from you. [align left] > [[“Kill them. These three are too dangerous to live.”->Chapter12Escape_Lion12v1]] > [[“Kill them. It’s important that the workers see the guard aren’t invincible.”->Chapter12Escape_Lion12v1]] > [[“Spare them. We’ll bind and gag them, but I don’t condone killing.”->Chapter12Escape_Lion12v2]] > [[“Spare them. We’ll bind and gag them. Let the workers judge them.”->Chapter12Escape_Lion12v2]]

You run to Ferret’s side. As you do, you see Robin edging toward Lion, while Bear remains with Heron. [if hasShovel] Ferret and the weasel circle each other slowly—his club held up in front of him, her hammer clenched tightly in her fist. Your fingers curl around the shovel in your hand, trembling but determined. The weight of the weapon is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Her eyes flick to you as you approach and the weasel lunges forward. Ferret swings upward with the hammer but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. You rush forward and raise your shovel to block his strike. Your weapons clash together and the force makes your arms tremble but you hold your ground, twisting your arm and swinging upward. He blocks your attempt, then turns into you and thrusts his elbow up, catching you in the throat. Your vision inks black at the edges for a terrifying moment and you stumble back, dropping the shovel. You clutch at your throat, eyes wetting as you cough and try to catch your breath. [if hasChisel] Ferret and the weasel circle each other slowly—his club held up in front of him, her hammer clenched tightly in her fist. Your fingers curl around the chisel in your hand, trembling but determined. The feel of the weapon is sobering. Sweat lines your brow and you take a steadying breath. Her eyes flick to you as you approach and the weasel lunges forward. Ferret swings upward with the hammer but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. He yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You spring to your feet, pivoting as you do and swinging the chisel upward. You wince at the sickening crunch when it pierces the bones in the guard’s hand. He howls in pain and drops the club, clutching at his injured hand. You step forward to strike again but he sees you coming and thrusts his elbow up, catching you in the throat. Your vision inks black at the edges for a terrifying moment and you stumble back, dropping the chisel. You clutch at your throat, eyes wetting as you cough and try to catch your breath. [if hasHands] Ferret and the weasel circle each other slowly—his club held up in front of him, her hammer clenched tightly in her fist. Her eyes flick to you as you approach and the weasel lunges forward. Ferret swings upward with the hammer but the guard sidesteps and changes course, charging you without breaking stride. The guard yells and swings his club at your head. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as his weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet, grabbing at his club as you do. You struggle for a moment, trying to wrench it from his hands. Then he turns into you and thrusts his elbow up, catching you in the throat. Your vision inks black at the edges for a terrifying moment and you stumble back, releasing the club. You clutch at your throat, eyes wetting as you cough and try to catch your breath. [continue] Ferret lunges forward, aiming her hammer at the guard’s head. He manages to dodge but not fully, the hammer glancing off his shoulder instead. He grunts and falls to his hands and knees. You and Ferret leap on him together, pinning him to the ground. Ferret raises the hammer over his head. “He doesn’t deserve to live,” she whispers vehemently. While her words brook no argument, her eyes are questioning. She’s leaving the decision to you. You study the scene around you. Heron and Bear have the female guard pinned to the ground between them. Bear holds the shovel above her head, ready to bring it down at a word from you. Lion has the pig on his stomach, his arms wrenched behind his back and a knee pressing between the guard’s shoulder blades. Robin hands Lion a rope and he uses it to bind the guard’s hands. The pig yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. He looks crazed, furious, and you’re certain no words will sway him. [align left] > [[“Kill them. These three are too dangerous to live.”->Chapter12Escape_Ferret12v1]] > [[“Kill them. It’s important that the workers see the guard aren’t invincible.”->Chapter12Escape_Ferret12v1]] > [[“Spare them. We’ll bind and gag them, but I don’t condone killing.”->Chapter12Escape_Ferret12v2]] > [[“Spare them. We’ll bind and gag them. Let the workers judge them.”->Chapter12Escape_Ferret12v2]]

You run to Heron’s side. As you do, you see Robin grab a length of rope and rush toward Ferret. Bear seems unbothered by his injury as he moves to help Lion. [if hasShovel] Heron and the female guard are locked in a struggle over his shovel. You creep forward, your fingers curling around the shovel in your hand, trembling but determined. The weight of the weapon is sobering. Suddenly, the wasp rears her head back and bashes her forehead against Heron’s, causing your friend to stumble and lose his grip. You swing your shovel, catching her in the stomach with the flat end as she tries to dodge you. She winces and grits her teeth, but keeps hold of her weapon. “You okay?” you ask Heron, your eyes never leaving the wasp. “Yeah,” he grunts, massaging his forehead. “She needs to go down.” “Agreed.” You charge forward and the wasp meets you, the metal heads of your shovels striking together. The force makes your arms tremble but you hold your ground, twisting your arm and swinging upward. She blocks your strike, then kicks her knee up. You jump back but she presses forward, swinging at your head. Heron tackles her from the side and they both tumble to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs. She howls in rage and lashes out wildly, swinging her shovel in an aimless arc. Heron straddles her, pinning her arms above her head while you quickly pin her legs. He twists her wrists until she releases the shovel. [if hasChisel] Heron and the female guard are locked in a struggle over his shovel. You creep forward, your fingers curling around the chisel in your hand, trembling but determined. The feel of the weapon is sobering. Suddenly, the wasp rears her head back and bashes her forehead against Heron’s, causing your friend to stumble and lose his grip. You swing upward with the chisel and it cuts along her back, tearing at her clothes and leaving a bloody streak. She shrieks and totters away, but keeps hold of the shovel. “You okay?” you ask Heron, your eyes never leaving the wasp. “Yeah,” he grunts, massaging his forehead. “She needs to go down.” “Agreed.” The guard yells something unintelligible and rushes you, her shovel raised high. You lash out at the air between you but the chisel’s reach is not long enough and you miss. She swings the shovel toward your head and you drop and roll to the right. You can hear the eerie whistle as it passes close to your ear. You spring to your feet as she lurches forward again. This time you wait till she’s almost upon you. When she swings you duck and twist toward her, swinging the chisel up over your head and jamming it into her arm. You wince at the sickening crunch when it pierces the bones. She howls in pain and drops the shovel, clutching at her arm as blood seeps between her fingers. Heron tackles her from the side and they both tumble to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs. She thrashes her arms and legs about, kicking wildly. Heron straddles her, pinning her arms above her head while you quickly pin down her legs. [if hasHands] Heron and the female guard are locked in a struggle over his shovel. The wasp rears her head back and bashes her forehead against Heron’s, causing your friend to stumble and lose his grip. You swing your arm forward and slam your fist into the side of her head. She shrieks and totters away, but keeps hold of the shovel. “You okay?” you ask Heron, your eyes never leaving the wasp. “Yeah,” he grunts, massaging his forehead. “She needs to go down.” “Agreed.” The guard yells something unintelligible and rushes you, her shovel raised high. You dodge and roll to the right, your feet kicking up a cloud of sand as you twist out of the way. You can hear the eerie whistle as her weapon passes close to your ear. You twist to your feet and kick out, your foot slamming into the back of her knee. She staggers and drops to her hands and knees, the shovel rolling out of reach. Heron tackles her from the side and they both tumble to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs. She thrashes her arms and legs about, kicking wildly. Heron straddles her, pinning her arms above her head while you quickly pin down her legs. [continue] Heron spares you a brief glance. “We can’t hold her here forever, {name},” his pitch lowers, his voice grim. “What do you want to do with her?” You study the scene around you. Ferret has the weasel down on his knees with his back to her, a length of rope wrapped tightly about his neck. He claws at the rope, still alive, though not for much longer if you don’t speak up. Lion has the pig on his stomach, his arms wrenched up and back behind his head and a knee pressing between the guard’s shoulder blades. The pig yells as he struggles in vain, his words an indecipherable barrage of grunts and spittle. He looks crazed, furious, and you’re certain no words will sway him. [align left] > [[“Kill them. These three are too dangerous to live.”->Chapter12Escape_Heron12v1]] > [[“Kill them. It’s important that the workers see the guard aren’t invincible.”->Chapter12Escape_Heron12v1]] > [[“Spare them. We’ll bind and gag them, but I don’t condone killing.”->Chapter12Escape_Heron12v2]] > [[“Spare them. We’ll bind and gag them. Let the workers judge them.”->Chapter12Escape_Heron12v2]]

You raise your voice, making sure the others can hear you. Lion nods, his expression dark and intense. He wraps his arm around the pig’s neck in a chokehold and starts to squeeze. You see the guard’s eyes widen, and his trashing intensifies. A knot twists in your gut at the sight of the sputtering guard. His face reddens, then turns blue. His body spasms, his eyes bulge and roll back in his head. Finally, his hands fall limp at his sides and his mouth falls open in a mute scream. “It is done,” Lion whispers as you help him to stand. You look around and see that the other two guard have been dealt with in a similar fashion. Thankfully, the scuffle hasn’t seemed to attract any attention, but it will be dawn soon. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_13'}

“I’ll grab some rope. Can you hold him on your own?” you ask. Lion nods and you scramble to your feet, shouting at Ferret and Heron to do the same. Robin anticipates your need and pulls some rope out of one of the supply sacks and tosses it your way. After tying up the guard, you step back and catch your breath. All three have gags preventing them from speaking, and their hands and legs are hog tied behind them. The weasel is unconscious—Ferret choked him pretty hard, but you can’t fault her for it. Thankfully, the scuffle hasn’t seemed to attract any attention, but it will be dawn soon. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_13'}

You raise your voice, making sure the others can hear you. Ferret nods, then swings her hammer down on his head with all the force she can muster. It connects with a sickening crack, sharp and jarring. His head falls stiffly to the side and lays motionless, blood pooling around his open eyes and staining the ground. She drops the hammer and wipes her hand on her pants. You help her to stand. “It needed to be done,” she whispers. You look around and see that the other two guard have been dealt with in a similar fashion. Thankfully, the scuffle hasn’t seemed to attract any attention, but it will be dawn soon. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_13'}

“I’ll grab some rope. Can you hold him on your own?” you ask. Ferret swears under her breath but gives you a nod. You scramble to your feet, shouting at Heron and Lion to do the same. Robin anticipates your need and pulls some rope out of one of the supply sacks and tosses it your way. After tying up the guard, you step back and catch your breath. All three have gags preventing them from speaking, and their hands and legs are hog tied behind them. Thankfully, the scuffle hasn’t seemed to attract any attention, but it will be dawn soon. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_13'}

You raise your voice, making sure the others can hear you. Heron swallows and nods. You release her legs and grab the discarded shovel, then step around to her head. You take a steady breath in and out, then you swing the shovel down on her head with all the force you can muster. It connects with a sickening crack, sharp and jarring. Her head falls stiffly to the side and lays motionless, a tendril of blood spilling down between her open eyes. Your chest heaves with exhaustion as you look upon the prone body before you, your hands trembling. You blink, swallow thickly, try to quiet your thoughts. Blood pumps vigorously beneath your skin, and you look up to meet Heron’s eyes. “Thank you for taking care of it,” he stammers. “I couldn’t have…” You nod and help him to stand. You look around and see that the other two guard have been dealt with in a similar fashion. Thankfully, the scuffle hasn’t seemed to attract any attention, but it will be dawn soon. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_13'}

“I’ll grab some rope. Can you hold her on your own?” you ask. Heron nods and you scramble to your feet, shouting at Ferret and Lion to do the same. Robin anticipates your need and pulls some rope out of one of the supply sacks and tosses it your way. After tying up the guard, you step back and catch your breath. All three have gags preventing them from speaking, and their hands and legs are hog tied behind them. The weasel is unconscious—Ferret choked him pretty hard, but you can’t fault her for it. Thankfully, the scuffle hasn’t seemed to attract any attention, but it will be dawn soon. {embed passage: 'Chapter12Escape_13'}

{ambient sound: 'rain'} *Journal Entry 1* *I look at this quill in my hand and this sheet of parchment lying before me, and I wonder where to begin. The ability to write is a gift that has eluded us for some time, and now that I am free to utilize that gift, I find the words escape me.* *I must write the words that we were once forbidden to speak. This story, our story, comes from those words. There is so much that I wish to write, so much that I* have *to write, to be certain that the story will not be forgotten.* You stop and look back at what you have written. Does it sound too ostentatious? Too… much like Lion? You smile and prop your chin in your hand. You’re sitting on a smooth rock, your notebook perched precariously on a rock in front of you. It’s not the most elegant setup for writing, not that you’ve known any other, but it’ll do. A motion to your left catches your eye, and you turn to study the shoreline on which you’ve set up camp. The sun is just beginning to set, and a small breeze tousles the swaying tips of the river grass. The river flows in a slow, easy current, gentle waves breaking against the river rocks that jut from the depths. It’s narrow in this part of the valley, the distant rocky shore easily visible, though it seems wider than when you first discovered it. The river veers left and downward up ahead, the terrain growing steadily greener and more dense the further down it goes. The trek through the mountains had been harsh, the weather much colder than you had thought possible in a desert. Luckily you all packed well, and everyone huddled together in the same makeshift shelter for warmth. As you descended from the peaks the terrain grew less red, and you saw more grey stone and coarse yellow-green grass. You used the horizon to navigate, trying to keep in the same general direction you plotted out at the start of your journey. Eventually the pass opened up and you found yourselves gazing upon a new valley below, one vast and blanketed in dense shrubs and stubby green trees. And intersected by a wide, winding river. You turn back to the page and continue to write. *So much has changed, so many things in this world are new to us. I myself am new. I once was a healer, but now I am... anything I want, I suppose. I have time to think on it. I have so much time now. Time for my friends, my family. Time to read and write and* “Robin, that’s uh, that’s a lot of salt.” “You told me I could make dinner on my own, so let me work.” Robin makes a shooing motion with their hand as they squat in front of the pot. Your gaze falls on Heron and Robin by the fire. Heron has done most of the food prep and cooking on your journey, and when Robin asked to give it a try, he readily agreed. He looks decidedly less certain now, as he peers over Robin’s shoulder. He stands with one arm hugging his chest and the fist of his other hand pressed up against his mouth. He squints into the pot and his eyebrows do a funny little dance that makes you very curious about what he sees within. “It can’t be any worse than that slop we ate in The City,” says Ferret. She’s sitting on a boulder by the river’s edge, combing the fingers of her hand through her wet hair. “If that didn’t kill us, I doubt Robin’s food will.” “Err, thank you?” Robin cocks their head to the side, unsure whether that was a vote of confidence or not. “I am certain it is delicious, Robin.” Lion’s voice is muffled from within the shelter, a wooden lean-to he’s erecting against the side of a rock outcropping. “Thank you, Lion!” Robin tosses another handful of salt into the kettle and Heron’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. “Who wants to be the first to try?” Robin asks excitedly, ladling the stew into a clay bowl. Bear looks at the bowl, purses his lips, and takes a few steps back. “I uh, I’d better get more wood for the fire before it gets dark.” Then he scurries off into the brush. “Coward,” you call after him. “{name}, you’ll try it, won’t you?” Robin holds the bowl out to you, their eyes gleaming in the dimming light. Behind them Heron shakes his head and mouths, “Don’t do it.” “I’ll give it a try,” you say, setting aside your journal. Robin hands you the bowl, then portions out some stew for Lion and Ferret, as well. You examine the contents of the bowl. You had watched Robin add potatoes, celery, and even some fish, caught by Ferret. *That* had been an experience. You smile as you recall the way she had waded into the river, throwing an offhand, “What, like it’s hard?” over her shoulder. Several hours, multiple obscenities, and one water-logged Ferret later, you had one fish. And yes, it had been hilariously hard. But now you can’t identify any of those ingredients within the grey, gelatinous substance Robin presents you. They’re watching you with wide, patient eyes, so you tip the bowl back and take a big swallow. The stew is gritty, pasty, and far, far too salty. You cough and draw the bowl back. “Ugh, shit,” Ferret says, spitting out her mouthful. Robin looks at her in horror and she tries to smile, though it’s more of a grimace. “I mean, it’s uh, it’s… fuck.” Lion takes his time chewing, his lips clamped tight together. When he swallows it takes him a couple tries, the knot in his throat bobbing. Then he looks at Robin and says in a controlled voice, “Thank you for the sustenance.” Robin stares at him a moment, then their face cracks and they giggle. Then it erupts into a full blown laugh. Heron starts sniggering behind his fist and the rest of you chime in. “Oh, well,” Robin says, wiping a tear from their eye. “At least I tried.” “It was a valiant effort,” says Heron, clasping their shoulder. “Next time we’ll do it together.” “{name}! Everyone!” Bear crashes through the bushes, stumbling to a halt in front of the fire. “You need to see…” He leans over and braces his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. You stand and exchange concerned looks with the others, waiting for him to continue. When he stands back up, he’s smiling. “Come, you need to see this.” Bear leads you along the path of the river for a bit, but when it veers to the left he turns right, heading higher into the brush. As you climb higher the brush thins out, and the shade of the leaves and grass slowly shifts from verdant green to a buff yellow. The brush here is drier, good for kindling. There are also several cacti you have to weave around and step over. “Bear, you didn’t have to run so far from Robin’s dinner,” Heron jokes. “Hey!” “It’s just up ahead,” he assures you. He pushes aside the leaves of a flowering bush with pink and purple blooms, and you arrive on a rock outcropping, the land falling away just up ahead. Bear comes to a stop a few feet from the ledge and points. “Look down there.” [[Your gaze clears the edge of the outcropping, and your breath catches in your throat.->EpilogueEscape_02]]

Time is running out. “If we’re leaving the book trail we need to move quickly,” you say. Robin appears grateful to shift their attention off the altercation, and they quickly scamper back down into the bunker. Lion wipes down the tools used in the fight and repackages the duffle, retrieving the grappling hook as he does. You each claim a duffle and Lion attaches the smaller pouches to his belt. Robin stacks the books above ground as the rest of you make a trail, placing the books in a meandering line between the bunker and the water shed. You smile fondly when you see familiar titles. Every now and then you find a title you really enjoyed, and you squirrel that book away into your bag. It seems a shame not to take at least a few with you. However, there is one title you do leave behind. Jeremiah’s journal remains on the table in the bunker. It feels necessary to leave it behind. You hope someone will have the opportunity to read it—the opportunity to change their fate, as you did. It takes some time but finally you finish the trail. The path of books leads straight from the open stairwell in the bunker to the door of the water shed, making it impossible not to find either location. The underground lake leads past the shed toward the pits, so that’s the direction you head. For the first time you’re grateful for the smoke, as it conceals your group. After a few yards the smoke clears and the wall looms ahead of you. It looks smaller up close, not quite as intimidating; you judge it to be about 12 feet high. Scaling it will still be a trick, but it doesn’t feel as much of a barrier as it did before. You lay your palm flat against the cool surface and a shudder runs through you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched the wall, and even this small act feels defiant. Lion attempts several throws with the grappling hook before getting it to latch sturdily atop the wall. He climbs first to test the weight. You adjust the duffle bag so that you can carry it easily on your back, then follow him up. It’s a slow but steady climb, one arm over the other, your feet bracing against the wall. At the top you reach forward and anchor your arms over the edge. Lion grabs your arm and helps pull you up the rest of the way. You swing your left leg over the rim and straddle the wall, scooting forward a few feet to make room for the others. Behind you, Heron has managed to bring both legs over, and he sits facing the mountains, his back to The City. “No buildings. No guard. No pits,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. “Nothing but sand and rock.” He turns to you and grins broadly. “I can’t wait to get out there in it.” “You say that now, but wait until we’re wandering those mountains with nowhere to go.” “Anywhere is better than here,” Heron says, hooking his thumb toward The City. “Let’s hope so.” Heron lifts an eyebrow. “You’re not backing out on me, are you, {name}?” You grin and punch his shoulder lightly. “Never.” The others have assembled above the wall now. Lion readjusts the grappling hook, then tosses the rope down the other side, and you all proceed down one at a time. [if loveInterest === 'builder'] The others go first, everyone making it safely down till it’s just you and Lion atop the wall. You glance back over The City. The sun is starting to rise, and as you peer through the haze from the pits, you see movement on the streets. Straining your ears, you think you hear voices. How will the other workers and guard react when they realize what’s happened? Will they continue what you started? Will anything really change? A hand covers your own, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn and meet Lion’s concerned gaze. “Is everything alright?” he asks. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “I’m not having second thoughts, I want this. I’m just… over analyzing, I suppose.” Lion reaches forward and cups your cheek. “You have a good heart, my healer. It is one of the many reasons why I love you. Whatever you choose to do in this life, wherever you go, know that I will always, *always* stand beside you.” You lean forward and touch your forehead to his. “I know, and I love you, too,” you breathe against his lips. “Hey! You guys coming or what?” Heron’s voice floats up to you. And it’s not the only voice. Now, you can hear with clarity the surprised clamor of voices rising from the heart of The City. You’re out of time. “Let’s go,” you say firmly, pulling away. You scuttle down the rope first, Lion right behind you. When you reach the ground on the other side, you crouch and close your fist around a handful of sand. Then you stand, stretching your arm out and opening your palm. The desert breeze picks up the red grains and carries them away toward the mountains. Ahead you can make out Ferret and Robin running side by side. Bear sprints not too far behind, and a short distance behind him, Heron stands waiting for you. [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] The others go first, everyone making it safely down till it’s just you and Heron atop the wall. You glance back over The City. The sun is starting to rise, and as you peer through the haze from the pits, you see movement on the streets. Straining your ears, you think you hear voices. How will the other workers and guard react when they realize what’s happened? Will they continue what you started? Will anything really change? A hand covers your own, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn and meet Heron’s concerned gaze. “Hey, everything alright?” he asks. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “I’m not having second thoughts, I want this. I’m just… over analyzing, I suppose.” Heron smiles and pulls you into a hug. “I know this was a difficult decision for you, and I would’ve supported you no matter what you chose. But I’m beyond excited to explore another world with you, {name}. This is our story now. Whatever happens, I’m here for it. Here for you. Always.” You smile against his neck and hug him tighter. “I love you, Heron.” “Hey! You fools coming or what?” Ferret’s voice floats up to you. And it’s not the only voice. Now, you can hear with clarity the surprised clamor of voices rising from the heart of The City. You’re out of time. “Let’s go,” you say firmly, pulling away. You scuttle down the rope first, Heron right behind you. When you reach the ground on the other side, you crouch and close your fist around a handful of sand. Then you stand, stretching your arm out and opening your palm. The desert breeze picks up the red grains and carries them away toward the mountains. Ahead you can make out Lion and Robin running side by side. Bear sprints not too far behind, and a short distance behind him, Ferret stands waiting for you. [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] The others go first, everyone making it safely down till it’s just you and Ferret atop the wall. You glance back over The City. The sun is starting to rise, and as you peer through the haze from the pits, you see movement on the streets. Straining your ears, you think you hear voices. How will the other workers and guard react when they realize what’s happened? Will they continue what you started? Will anything really change? A hand covers your own, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn and meet Ferret’s concerned gaze. “Not having second thoughts, are you?” she asks. “No, I want this,” you assure her. “I’m not having second thoughts, I’m just… over analyzing, I suppose.” She reaches forward and clasps your neck. “Don’t overthink this. Don't think about any of that. This is our choice. I choose you, and you choose me. No matter where we are, no matter where we go, that’s the only choice that matters.” You lean forward and touch your forehead to hers. “I do choose you, always,” you breathe against her lips. “Hey! You guys coming or what?” Heron’s voice floats up to you. And it’s not the only voice. Now, you can hear with clarity the surprised clamor of voices rising from the heart of The City. You’re out of time. “Let’s go,” you say firmly, pulling away. You scuttle down the rope first, Ferret right behind you. When you reach the ground on the other side, you crouch and close your fist around a handful of sand. Then you stand, stretching your arm out and opening your palm. The desert breeze picks up the red grains and carries them away toward the mountains. Ahead you can make out Lion and Robin running side by side. Bear sprints not too far behind, and a small distance behind him, Heron stands waiting for you. [if loveInterest === 'burner'] The others go first, everyone making it safely down till it’s just you and Robin atop the wall. You glance back over The City. The sun is starting to rise, and as you peer through the haze from the pits, you see movement on the streets. Straining your ears, you think you hear voices. How will the other workers and guard react when they realize what’s happened? Will they continue what you started? Will anything really change? A hand covers your own, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn and meet Robin’s concerned gaze. “Is everything alright?” they ask. “I’m fine,” you assure them. “I’m not having second thoughts, I want this. I’m just… over analyzing, I suppose.” Robin squeezes your hand and offers a small smile. “I know this was a difficult decision for you. I would’ve stayed with you, if you had chosen. But the idea of being with you out there, in a brand new world, makes me happier than I ever thought possible. Thank you for that. Thank you for showing me what’s possible.” You lean forward and touch your forehead to theirs. “Thank you, too, dearest,” you breathe against their lips. “Hey! You guys coming or what?” Heron’s voice floats up to you. And it’s not the only voice. Now, you can hear with clarity the surprised clamor of voices rising from the heart of The City. You’re out of time. “Let’s go,” you say firmly, pulling away. You scuttle down the rope first, Robin right behind you. When you reach the ground on the other side, you crouch and close your fist around a handful of sand. Then you stand, stretching your arm out and opening your palm. The desert breeze picks up the red grains and carries them away toward the mountains. Ahead you can make out Ferret and Lion running side by side. Bear sprints not too far behind, and a small distance behind him, Heron stands waiting for you. [if loveInterest === 'none'] The others go first, everyone making it safely down till it’s just you and Bear atop the wall. You glance back over The City. The sun is starting to rise, and as you peer through the haze from the pits, you see movement on the streets. Straining your ears, you think you hear voices. How will the other workers and guard react when they realize what’s happened? Will they continue what you started? Will anything really change? A voice coughs gently, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn and meet Bear’s concerned gaze. “Everything alright?” he asks. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “I’m not having second thoughts, I want this. I’m just… over analyzing, I suppose.” Bear nods and clasps your shoulder. “What you’ve done here… it’s amazing. You’re amazing. And I’m proud to know you. I know we’ve only started getting to know one another, but I’d rather be embarking on this journey with you, than be anywhere else.” You cover your hand with his, noting as you do that his new wound aligns with yours. “Thanks, Bear.” “Hey! You guys coming or what?” Heron’s voice floats up to you. And it’s not the only voice. Now, you can hear with clarity the surprised clamor of voices rising from the heart of The City. You’re out of time. “Let’s go,” you say firmly, pulling away. You scuttle down the rope first, Bear right behind you. When you reach the ground on the other side, you crouch and close your fist around a handful of sand. Then you stand, stretching your arm out and opening your palm. The desert breeze picks up the red grains and carries them away toward the mountains. Ahead you can make out Ferret and Robin running side by side. Lion sprints not too far behind, and a small distance behind him, Heron stands waiting for you. [continue] You smile and run, following the footprints of the others. [[Epilogue->EpilogueEscape_01]]

About 10-15 miles below is a city, one very unlike your own. The river twists and flows lazily through a flat green valley, stretching as far as you can see. On the shore on either side of the river are hundreds of structures, some single story, some multiple. All around and between are trees, shrubs and roads, and even from this distance you can see movement on the roads. As the sun begins to set, lights come on in the structures—they’re strange lights, static, not weaving like a flame. “Another city?” Heron stutters, his voice cracking. “There are people down there.” Robin’s eyes glisten, tears coating their eyelashes. “There are other people.” [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] [if gender === 'woman'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Ferret2'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] [if gender === 'man'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Ferret1'} [if loveInterest === 'sweeper'] [if gender === 'worker'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Ferret2'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] [if gender === 'woman'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Lion1'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] [if gender === 'man'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Lion2'} [if loveInterest === 'builder'] [if gender === 'worker'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Lion2'} [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] [if gender === 'woman'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Heron1'} [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] [if gender === 'man'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Heron2'} [if loveInterest === 'feeder'] [if gender === 'worker'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Heron2'} [if loveInterest === 'burner'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_Robin'} [if loveInterest === 'none'] {embed passage: 'EpilogueEscape_None'}

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You step up behind Ferret and slip your hands around her waist. She covers your fingers with her own and leans back into your embrace. “We made it,” you whisper, resting your chin on her shoulder. “Do you have any regrets?” “No, I made my decision, and I’m exactly where I want to be.” You never wanted to father a child in The City. And with Ferret’s past, you’ve never given it real consideration. But now that you’re free, you allow yourself to consider whether you’d like a child of your own. [align left] > [[You decide you’d like one. Very much. You ask Ferret.->EpilogueEscape_Ferret3]] > [[You decide you don’t want a child.->EpilogueEscape_Ferret4]]

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You step up behind Ferret and slip your hands around her waist. She covers your fingers with her own and leans back into your embrace. “We made it,” you whisper, resting your chin on her shoulder. “Do you have any regrets?” “No, I made my decision, and I’m exactly where I want to be.” Your face breaks into a broad grin, warmth spreading through your chest. “That makes two of us.” Ferret turns and smiles at you, bold, beautiful. Then she’s kissing you, her touch full of promise and devotion and joy. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You feel a solid, familiar presence behind you. Lion wraps his arms around you and you lean back against him. “New people,” you murmur. “Can you believe it?” “I can, because I have always believed in you.” Lion hugs you closer and rests his head on your shoulder. “We have made it this far because of your tenacity, your courage. I would be lost if I had never found you. Thank you, my healer.” You entwine your hands with his. “Thank *you*, my love.” “In The City, I never allowed myself to imagine… well.” His hands drop lower, till they’re cradling your belly. “I had always hoped I never fathered a child, but now, I find my feelings are much the opposite. Would you be interested, that is, would you want a child? With me?” [align left] > [[Yes, you want a child as much as he does.->EpilogueEscape_Lion3]] > [[No, you’re not interested in having children.->EpilogueEscape_Lion4]]

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You feel a solid, familiar presence behind you. Lion wraps his arms around you and you lean back against him. “New people,” you murmur. “Can you believe it?” “I can, because I have always believed in you.” Lion hugs you closer and rests his head on your shoulder. “We have made it this far because of your tenacity, your courage. I would be lost if I had never found you. Thank you, my healer.” You entwine your hands with his. “Thank *you*, my love.” “I hope these new people will be welcoming, and that we can build a new life here,” he says. You shift in his arms till his dark eyes meet yours. “And I am eager to get you alone.” You smile as he kisses you, his touch full of promise and devotion and joy. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You feel a warm, familiar presence behind you. Heron wraps his arms around you, and you lean back against him. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” you murmur. “One thing.” Heron kisses your neck and you sigh happily. “Are you happy?” you ask him. “No regrets?” “No regrets, but there’s one thing that’d make me even happier.” His hands drop lower, till they’re cradling your belly. Then he stiffens. “Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, I’m completely happy. Totally happy, really. It’s just, only if you want the same-” [align left] > [[You know what he’s asking you, and you want a child as much as he does. His child.->EpilogueEscape_Heron3]] > [[You know what he’s asking you, but you’re not interested in having children.->EpilogueEscape_Heron4]]

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You feel a warm, familiar presence behind you. Heron wraps his arms around you, and you lean back against him. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” you murmur. “One thing.” Heron kisses your neck and you sigh happily. “Are you happy?” you ask him. “No regrets?” “My only regret is the number of years we spent apart,” he answers. You shift in his arms till his bright eyes meet yours. “And I intend to spend the rest of our lives making up for lost time.” You smile as he kisses you, his touch full of promise and devotion and joy. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You step closer to Robin and slip your hand around their waist, and they do the same to you. “Do you think they’re different than the other city?” they ask. “Will they welcome us?” “It’s certainly worth finding out. There’s no wall, that’s a good start,” you murmur, your words ending on a shaky laugh. “I bet they don’t have burners. I wonder what I could do there.” Robin glances at you. “What about you, {name}? Would you continue being a healer, if you had the choice?” You ponder the question. [align left] > [[“I would,” you say with confidence. “I enjoy being a healer.”->EpilogueEscape_Robin1]] > [[“I’m not sure,” you admit. “I guess it would depend on what my choices are.”->EpilogueEscape_Robin2]] > [[“Probably not,” you concede. “I want a change.”->EpilogueEscape_Robin3]]

You swallow down the lump in your throat. Even if you wanted to speak, there are no words. You study the new city below, your mind a flurry of thoughts. Can these people speak and read? They appear to have electricity, so odds are good. Will they welcome you? There’s no wall, that’s a good start. What will you do now? It’s a question you’ve been pondering for some time. Now that you’re out of The City, away from those rules, do you still want to be a healer? [align left] > [[Yes, you enjoy being a healer.->EpilogueEscape_None1]] > [[You’re unsure.->EpilogueEscape_None2]] > [[No, it’s time for a change.->EpilogueEscape_None3]]

It may not have been your initial choice, but you’ve come to embrace the role. You’re happy as you are. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

Everything is different now that you’re outside The City. The world has literally opened before you in a way that is both exciting and terrifying. You have no idea what your future holds, but you’re curious to find out. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

Even though you’re good at what you do, it’s not all that you are. It’s defined nearly half your life, but you finally have an opportunity to change. Maybe you’ll take up sewing? Or fishing? Or simply… be. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

It may not have been your initial choice, but you’ve come to embrace the role. You’re happy as you are. “Whatever we end up doing, we’ll do it together,” you assure them, squeezing them tighter. They lay their head on your shoulder and murmur happily, “Always.” As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

Everything is different now that you’re outside The City. The world has literally opened before you in a way that is both exciting and terrifying. You have no idea what your future holds, but you’re curious to find out. “Whatever we end up doing, we’ll do it together,” you assure them, squeezing them tighter. They lay their head on your shoulder and murmur happily, “Always.” As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

Even though you’re good at what you do, it’s not all that you are. It’s defined nearly half your life, but you finally have an opportunity to change. Maybe you’ll take up sewing? Or fishing? Or simply… be. “Whatever we end up doing, we’ll do it together,” you assure them, squeezing them tighter. They lay their head on your shoulder and murmur happily, “Always.” As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

Your hands drop lower, till you’re cradling her belly. “Ferret, do you think you’d ever want to have another child?” “If you had asked me that six months ago, I’d have said hell no.” She draws a deep breath, then she shifts in your arms so she can look you in the eyes. “But now? With you? That’s the only thing I want.” Your face breaks into a broad grin, warmth spreading through your chest. “I was hoping you’d say that,” you tell her, relief threading your words. Ferret smiles at you, bold, beautiful. Then she’s kissing you, her touch full of promise and yearning and joy. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

All you could ever want is right here, in your arms. Your face breaks into a broad grin, warmth spreading through your chest. “That makes two of us.” Ferret turns and smiles at you, bold, beautiful. Then she’s kissing you, her touch full of promise and devotion and joy. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

You bite back a laugh at the way he felt the need to clarify those last words. Who else on earth would you have a child with? Your heart warms for this dear man. “I would.” He draws in a breath, his hands tightening slightly around your belly. “Yes?” “Yes, Lion, I want to have your child.” You shift in his arms till his expectant eyes meet yours. “I think you will make a wonderful father.” Lion blinks away the sudden tears in his eyes, his smile expressing all the joy he can’t find in words. Then he’s kissing you, his touch full of promise and yearning and devotion. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

“I’m sorry, Lion,” you shift in his arms so you can look him in the eyes, “but I don’t want to have children. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I-” He interrupts your words with a kiss. “You will never disappoint me, {name}. You are all I want, and I will be the happiest of men to live out the rest of my life with you.” You smile as he kisses you, his touch full of promise and devotion and joy. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

“I do.” He draws in a breath, his hands tightening slightly around your belly. “You do?” “I do.” You shift in his arms till his expectant eyes meet yours, and you link your hands with his. “I want a child with you. I want to watch you play hide and seek with that child, and snuggle them, and do all the wonderful things you did for me when we were young.” Heron blinks away the sudden tears in his eyes, his smile expressing all the joy he can’t find in words. Then he’s kissing you, his touch full of promise and yearning and devotion. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]

“I’m sorry, Heron,” you shift in his arms so you can look him in the eyes, “but I don’t want to have children. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I-” He interrupts your words with a kiss. “It’s okay, {name}, I mean it. You’re all I’ve ever wanted—then, now, and always.” You smile as he kisses you, his touch full of promise and devotion and joy. As the sun continues to set, more lights turn on below, each more dazzling than any star in the sky. And even in the darkness, the day has never loomed brighter. [[The End]]