Bad Ritual

(if: $first is "" or $first is 0)[(set: $first to "Quinn")] (if: $last is "" or $last is 0)[(set: $last to "Reid")] (set: $player_eyes to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_hair to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_colour to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_pronoun to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_magic to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_past to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_personality to "") (set: $player_title to "Retrieval Officer") (set: $player_complexion to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_physique to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_past to "Under Investigation") (set: $player_origin to "plucky") (set: $player_outgoing to "") (set: $player_meat to "") (set: $player_powers to 0) /* can be 0 for no 1 for yes and 2 for maybe; how the player feels about being able to use powers */ (set: $player_neuro to "") (set: $motive to "Plucky indicates that the employee in question was eager to prove themselves, wanted to be seen as a hero, and was seeking to impress the people around them.") (set: $achieve01 to 0)  (set: $achieve02 to 0)  (set: $achieve03 to 0)  (set: $achieve02_achieved to 0) (set: $personality_threshold to 7) (set: $player_profile to "false") (set: $player_defen to 0)  (set: $hair_variable to 0) (set: $colour_variable to 0) (set: $eye_variable to 0) (set: $height_variable to 0) (set: $pronoun_variable to 0) (set: $player_diverse to "false") (set: $compassion to 0) (set: $irritability to 0) (set: $charisma to 0) (set: $gender_singular to (a: "he", "she", "xe", "it")) (set: $gender_plural to (a: "they", "ey")) (set: $genderfluid to 0) (set: $he to "") (set: $him to "") (set: $his to "") (set: $chapter to 0) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $iteration to 0) (set: $route to "") (Set: $route_name to "") (set: $nextpassage to "") (set: $lastpassage to "") (set: $saves to (datanames: (saved-games:))) (set: $current_mode to "Dark Mode: Tahira") (set: $current_font to "Default") (set: $current_colour to "Blue") (set: $theme_click to 1) (set: $colour_click to 1) (set: $motive_count to 1) (set: $_reaction to "") (set: $_temp to "") (set: $tahira_promise to 0) (set: $player_tahira to "") /* can be hurt, pissed, or numb */ (set: $tahira_suss to it + 1) (set: $tahira_pact to 0) /* whether or not the player wants to be in the pact */ (set: $choice to "No, I refused to become Tahira's warlock") (set: $choice_count to 1) (set: $choice2 to "Yes, I am suspicious of Tahira") (set: $choice2_count to 1) (set: $desire01 to "") (set: $desire02 to "") (set: $desire03 to "") <script>changeMode(0);changeFont(0);changeColour(0);</script> (live: 0.01s)[(goto: "start")]

<h2>Bad Ritual</h2> your already high-risk/low-reward job gets about thirty times more dangerous when you inadvertently release an ancient archdemon into sanctum city. armed with only a recent promotion and the begrudging support of your enigmatic boss, it's up to you to decide what to do with siruud the devourer. (css: "font-size: 0.75em;")[The achievement screen is unlocked after chapter two (The Grind) !!] (link: "New Game")[(goto: "00")](unless: $saves's length is 0)[ (link: "Load")[(goto: "saves")]](else:)[] (link: "Build a Save")[(goto: "save-build00")] (link: "Options")[(goto: "options")] (link: "Help")[(goto: "help")] (link: "Attributions")[(goto: "credits")]

Sanctum City, 01:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[The rain is distorting the flickering neon lights, casting disfigured shapes on walls, windows, and sidewalks. Everything is a disorienting pink, and to boot it's freezing; all in all, a bad night to be on shift. You need the hours, though, so it's not like you have much of a choice. Work always likes to give you that paradox: take the totally optional extra hours, or come up short on the rent and groceries and utilities, pray that you don't have some kind of emergency or need something repaired, and forget what it was ever like to buy something on a whim. You'd thought when you got the job at the city's foremost Infernal control centre you'd be blissfully free of that bullshit non-option, but turns out work is work and hell is empty. All the devils are here, and so you're on shift waiting for one of them to step out of line so you can blast their ass back into their artifact to be archived away for an eternity. You look down at your hands, lighting your fingertips with (cycling-link: bind $player_magic, "flame", "frost", "blight") magic. The rain isn't coming down hard enough to affect your powers: yet.]

{(if: (passage:)'s tags contains "none" or (passage:)'s tags contains "some")[ (if: (passage:)'s name is "start")[(set: $lastpassage to "start")] (else:)[]] (else:)[ (if: (passage: (history:)'s last)'s tags contains "choice")[ (set: $iteration to 0)] (set: $lastpassage to (passage:)'s name) (if: $iteration is 0)[(set: $passage to it + 1)(set: $iteration to 1)] (if: $chapter is 4)[(set: $nextpassage to (text: $chapter) + (text: $passage))] (else:)[(set: $nextpassage to (text: $chapter) + (text: $passage) + $route)]] (if: (passage:)'s tags contains "increment")[ (if: $increment_done is 0)[ (if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[ (set: $charisma to it + 1) (set: $irritability to it - 0.5) (if: $irritability <= 0)[(set: $irritability to 0)] (set: $compassion to it - 0.5) (if: $compassion <= 0)[(set: $compassion to 0)]] (elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[ (set: $irritability to it + 1) (set: $compassion to it - 0.5) (if: $compassion <= 0)[(set: $compassion to 0)] (set: $charisma to it - 0.5) (if: $charisma <= 0)[(set: $charisma to 0)]] (elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[ (set: $compassion to it + 1) (set: $irritability to it - 0.5) (if: $irritability <= 0)[(set: $irritability to 0)] (set: $charisma to it - 0.5) (if: $charisma <= 0)[(set: $charisma to 0)]]] (else:)[] (set: $increment_done to 1)] (if: (passage: (history:)'s last)'s tags contains "increment" and not ((passage:)'s tags contains "some" or (passage:)'s tags contains "none"))[ (if: $charisma > $irritability and $charisma >= $compassion)[ (set: $player_personality to "charismatic")] (elseif: $irritability >= $charisma and $irritability >= $compassion)[ (set: $player_personality to "irritable")] (elseif: $compassion > $charisma and $compassion > $irritability)[ (set: $player_personality to "compassionate")] (set: $increment_done to 0)] (if: (passage:)'s tags contains "texts")[ (if: $current_colour is "Blue")[<script>changeColour(0);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Green")[<script>changeColour(1);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Purple")[<script>changeColour(2);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Yellow")[<script>changeColour(3);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Purple Again")[<script>changeColour(4);</script>]]  (if: $player_hair is "curly" or $player_hair is "natural" or $player_colour is "black" or $player_colour is "red" or $player_colour is "orange" or $player_eyes is "brown" or $player_eyes is "black" or $player_height is "short")[ (set: $player_diverse to "true")] (unless: $player_pronoun is "He/Him")[(set: $player_diverse to "true")]  (if: (passage: (history:)'s last)'s tags contains "name")[ (set: $first to $first) (set: $last to $last) (set: $desire01 to $desire01) (set: $desire02 to $desire02) (set: $desire03 to $desire03)] }

{ (if: (passage:)'s tags contains "name")[<script>processInputElements();</script>]  (if: $achieve02 is 1 and $irritability >= $personality_threshold)[(if: $achieve02_achieved is 0)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[ Achievement Unlocked: Cult of Personality](set: $achieve02 to 1)(set: $achieve02_achieved to 1)]] (elseif: $achieve02 is 1 and $charisma >= $personality_threshold)[(if: $achieve02_achieved is 0)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[ Achievement Unlocked: Cult of Personality](set: $achieve02 to 1)(set: $achieve02_achieved to 1)]] (elseif: $achieve02 is 1 and $compassion >= $personality_threshold)[(if: $achieve02_achieved is 0)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[ Achievement Unlocked: Cult of Personality](set: $achieve02 to 1)(set: $achieve02_achieved to 1)](elseif: $achieve02_achieved is 1)[]] (else:)[]  (if: (passage:)'s tags contains "none")[] (elseif: (passage:)'s tags contains "some")[ (link: "")[(goto: $lastpassage)]] (elseif: (passage:)'s tags contains "choice")[ (link: "")[(goto: "startup")] (link: "")[(goto: "profile")] (if: $chapter >= 2)[ (link: "")[(goto: "achieve")]] (else:)[] (link: "")[(goto: "options")] (link: "")[(goto: "saves")]] (else:)[ (link: "")[(goto: "startup")] (link: "")[(goto: "profile")] (if: $chapter >= 2)[ (link: "")[(goto: "achieve")]] (else:)[] (link: "")[(goto: "options")] (link: "")[(goto: "saves")] (link: "")[(set: $iteration to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)]]  (if: $player_hair is "your straight hair sticking to your face and fingers in miserable clumps")[(set: $player_hair to "straight")] (elseif: $player_hair is "your loose curls frizzing up wildly and threatening more retribution")[(set: $player_hair to "curly")] (elseif: $player_hair is "already tired of the detangling you'll have to do for your tight curls")[(set: $player_hair to "natural")] (elseif: $player_hair is "feeling the scant prickle of hair growing back in and rain down the back of your neck")[(set: $player_hair to "shaved")]  (if: $player_height is "with ease, as you're head and shoulders taller than most of them")[(set: $player_height to "tall")] (elseif: $player_height is "mumbling apologies as people make pointed eye contact with you")[(set: $player_height to "average")] (elseif: $player_height is "with extreme difficulty, because you're half the height of most of them")[(set: $player_height to "short")]  (if: (passage: (history:)'s last)'s tags contains "pronoun")[ (if: $player_pronoun is "They/Them")[ (set: $genderfluid to 0) (set: $he to "they") (set: $him to "them") (set: $his to "their") (set: $himself to "themself")] (elseif: $player_pronoun is "He/Him")[ (set: $genderfluid to 0) (set: $he to "he") (set: $him to "him") (set: $his to "his") (set: $himself to "himself")] (elseif: $player_pronoun is "She/Her")[ (set: $genderfluid to 0) (set: $he to "she") (set: $him to "her") (set: $his to "her") (set: $himself to "herself")] (elseif: $player_pronoun is "Ey/Em")[ (set: $genderfluid to 0) (set: $he to "ey") (set: $him to "em") (set: $his to "eir") (set: $himself to "eirself")] (elseif: $player_pronoun is "Xe/Xem")[ (set: $genderfluid to 0) (set: $he to "xe") (set: $him to "xem") (set: $his to "xyr") (set: $himself to "xemself")] (elseif: $player_pronoun is "It/It")[7 (set: $genderfluid to 0) (set: $he to "it") (set: $him to "it") (set: $his to "it's") (set: $himself to "itself")] (else:)[ (set: $genderfluid to 1)]]  (if: $player_physique is "That's objectively not true")[ (set: $player_physique to "fat")] (elseif: $player_physique is "Not something you're usually accused of")[ (set: $player_physique to "middling")] (elseif: $player_physique is "You've heard that one before")[ (set: $player_physique to "thin")]  (if: $player_outgoing is "a club is a club" or $player_outgoing is "so she doesn't freak you out" or $player_outgoing is "You're not mad about the location, it's just that")[(set: $player_outgoing to "ambivalent")] (elseif: $player_outgoing is "you know your clubs" or $player_outgoing is "so that no one notices the two of you" or $player_outgoing is "You love clubs, but")[(set: $player_outgoing to "extrovert")] (elseif: $player_outgoing is "you don't know dick about clubs" or $player_outgoing is "so that you can pretend to be calm" or $player_outgoing is "You hate being here, because")[(set: $player_outgoing to "introvert")]  (if: $player_meat is "cuts of meat that don't qualify as leftovers" or "Omnivore")[(set: $player_meat to 1)](else-if: $player_meat is "the kinds of bougie meat substitutes that celebrities have opinions about" or "Vegetarian")[(set: $player_meat to 0)] (if: (passage:)'s tags contains "texts")[ (if: $current_colour is "Blue")[<script>changeColour(0);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Green")[<script>changeColour(1);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Purple")[<script>changeColour(2);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Yellow")[<script>changeColour(3);</script>] (elseif: $current_colour is "Purple Again")[<script>changeColour(4);</script>]]  (if: (passage:)'s name is "519s" or (passage:)'s name is "t")[ (if: $player_breasts is " and under your tits before applying deodorant")[(set: $player_breasts to 1)] (elseif: $player_breasts is "and applying deodorant")[(set: $player_breasts to 0)]] }

{(if: $genderfluid is 1)[ (set: $random to (random: 0,1)) (if: $player_pronoun is "She/He")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "she") (set: $him to "her") (set: $his to "her") (set: $himself to "herself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "he") (set: $him to "him") (set: $his to "his") (set: $himself to "himself")]] (elseif: $player_pronoun is "They/She")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "she") (set: $him to "her") (set: $his to "her") (set: $himself to "herself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "they") (set: $him to "them") (set: $his to "their") (set: $himself to "themself")]] (elseif: $player_pronoun is "They/He")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "they") (set: $him to "them") (set: $his to "their") (set: $himself to "themself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "he") (set: $him to "him") (set: $his to "his") (set: $himself to "himself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "He/Xe")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "he") (set: $him to "him") (set: $his to "his") (set: $himself to "himself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "xe") (set: $him to "xem") (set: $his to "xyr") (set: $himself to "xemself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "She/Xe")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "she") (set: $him to "her") (set: $his to "her") (set: $himself to "herself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "xe") (set: $him to "xem") (set: $his to "xyr") (set: $himself to "xemself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "They/Xe")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "they") (set: $him to "them") (set: $his to "their") (set: $himself to "themself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "xe") (set: $him to "xem") (set: $his to "xyr") (set: $himself to "xemself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "Ey/Xe")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "e") (set: $him to "em") (set: $his to "eir") (set: $himself to "emself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "xe") (set: $him to "xem") (set: $his to "xyr") (set: $himself to "xemself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "Xe/It")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "xe") (set: $him to "xem") (set: $his to "xyr") (set: $himself to "xemself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "it") (set: $him to "it") (set: $his to "it's") (set: $himself to "itself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "She/Ey")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "she") (set: $him to "her") (set: $his to "her") (set: $himself to "herself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "e") (set: $him to "em") (set: $his to "eir") (set: $himself to "emself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "He/Ey")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "he") (set: $him to "him") (set: $his to "his") (set: $himself to "himself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "e") (set: $him to "em") (set: $his to "eir") (set: $himself to "emself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "They/Ey")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "they") (set: $him to "them") (set: $his to "their") (set: $himself to "themself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "e") (set: $him to "em") (set: $his to "eir") (set: $himself to "emself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "Ey/It")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "e") (set: $him to "em") (set: $his to "eir") (set: $himself to "emself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "it") (set: $him to "it") (set: $his to "it's") (set: $himself to "itself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "She/It")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "she") (set: $him to "her") (set: $his to "her") (set: $himself to "herself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "it") (set: $him to "it") (set: $his to "it's") (set: $himself to "itself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "He/It")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "he") (set: $him to "him") (set: $his to "his") (set: $himself to "himself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "it") (set: $him to "it") (set: $his to "it's") (set: $himself to "itself")]] (elseif: $proto_pronoun is "They/It")[ (if: $random is 0)[ (set: $he to "they") (set: $him to "them") (set: $his to "their") (set: $himself to "themself")] (elseif: $random is 1)[ (set: $he to "it") (set: $him to "it") (set: $his to "it's") (set: $himself to "itself")]]]}

(live: 0.01s)[ (if: $chapter is 0)[ (set: $chapter to 1) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $iteration to 0) (set: $nextpassage to "10") (goto: "10")] (elseif: $chapter is 1)[ (set: $chapter to 2) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $iteration to 0) (if: $route is "t")[ (set: $nextpassage to "20t")(goto: "20t")] (elseif: $route is "s")[ (set: $nextpassage to "20s")(goto: "20s")]] (elseif: $chapter is 2)[ (set: $chapter to 3) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $iteration to 0) (if: $route is "t")[ (set: $nextpassage to "30t")(goto: "30t")] (elseif: $route is "s")[ (set: $nextpassage to "30s")(goto: "30s")]] (elseif: $chapter is 3)[ (set: $chapter to 4) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $iteration to 0) (set: $nextpassage to "40") (goto: "40")]  (elseif: $chapter is 4)[ (set: $chapter to 5) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $iteration to 0) (if: $route is "t")[(set: $nextpassage to "50t")(goto: "50t")] (elseif: $route is "s")[(set: $nextpassage to "50s")(goto: "50s")]] (elseif: $chapter is 5)[ (set: $chapter to 6) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $iteration to 0) (if: $route is "t")[(set: $nextpassage to "60t")(goto: "60t")] (elseif: $route is "s")[(set: $nextpassage to "60s")(goto: "60s")]] (stop:)]

{<h3>Save Slots</h3>(if: $route_name is "")[(set: $save_name to (text: "$first $last"))](else:)[(set: $save_name to (text: "$first $last + $route_name"))] (if: not ((saved-games:) contains "Slot 1"))[ (link: "Slot 1 (empty)")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 1", $save_name))[ Slot 1 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (else:)[ (link: "Slot 1")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 1", $save_name))[ Slot 1 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (if: not ((saved-games:) contains "Slot 2"))[ (link: "Slot 2 (empty)")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 2", $save_name))[ Slot 2 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (else:)[ (link: "Slot 2")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 2", $save_name))[ Slot 2 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (if: not ((saved-games:) contains "Slot 3"))[ (link: "Slot 3 (empty)")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 3", $save_name))[ Slot 3 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (else:)[ (link: "Slot 3")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 3", $save_name))[ Slot 3 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (if: not ((saved-games:) contains "Slot 4"))[ (link: "Slot 4 (empty)")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 4", $save_name))[ Slot 4 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (else:)[(link: "Slot 4")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 4", $save_name))[ Slot 4 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (if: not ((saved-games:) contains "Slot 5"))[ (link: "Slot 5 (empty)")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 5", $save_name))[ Slot 5 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]] (else:)[ (link: "Slot 5")[ (if: (save-game: "Slot 5", $save_name))[ Slot 5 Successfully Saved!] (else:)[Not Saved ((link: "Help!")[(goto: "help")])]]]} {<h3>Load Game</h3>(set: _saves to (saved-games:))(for: each _name, ...(datanames: _saves))[(link: " _name - (print: _saves's (_name))")[(load-game: _name)]]} When you click a slot to load it, this page should reload. You'll see this same screen, but don't worry: just hit the back button and you'll be dropped back into the story, exactly where you should be!

<h3>Options</h3> {(link-repeat: "Toggle Colour Mode")[ (set: $theme_click to it + 1) (if: $theme_click is 5)[(set: $theme_click to 1)] (if: $theme_click is 1)[ (set: $current_mode to "Dark Mode (Tahira)") <script>changeMode(0);</script>] (elseif: $theme_click is 2)[ (set: $current_mode to "Light Mode (Tahira)") <script>changeMode(1);</script>] (elseif: $theme_click is 3)[ (set: $current_mode to "Dark Mode (Siruud)") <script>changeMode(2);</script>] (elseif: $theme_click is 4)[ (set: $current_mode to "Light Mode (Siruud)") <script>changeMode(3);</script>] (replace: ?color-mode)[$current_mode]]: |color-mode>[$current_mode]} This option toggles your colour themes !! There's the classic light and dark for the sake of your eyes, and then a few more to play around with. Explore and decide which one works best for you. {(link-repeat: "Toggle Default/Accessible Font")[ (if: $current_font is "Default")[ (set: $current_font to "Accessible") <script>changeFont(1);</script>] (elseif: $current_font is "Accessible")[ (set: $current_font to "Default") <script>changeFont(0);</script>] (replace: ?font-mode)[$current_font]]: |font-mode>[$current_font]} This option adjusts the font for the links (not the body text). I decided to do it this way because the link text was the only "special" font I really had, and I otherwise chose the body font from a list of the best fonts for dyslexia/general legibility. Let me know if this doesn't work for you !! {Font Size: (link-repeat: "Smaller")[<script>setFontSize(0);</script>] or (link-repeat: "Bigger")[<script>setFontSize(1);</script>]} This option scales the font !! I believe there's both an upper and lower limit but you have a lot of room to play between them, so choose whatever fits your screen and your comfort levels. Things should still show up normal regardless, although if the text is like five times its normal size I can't guarantee the navigation icons will show up in a tidy little line. {(link-repeat: "Toggle MC Text Colour")[ (set: $colour_click to it + 1) (if: $colour_click is 6)[(set: $colour_click to 1)] (if: $colour_click is 1)[ (set: $current_colour to "Blue") <script>changeColour(0);</script> (replace: ?AN)[Blue]] (elseif: $colour_click is 2)[ (set: $current_colour to "Green") <script>changeColour(1);</script> (replace: ?AN)[Green]] (elseif: $colour_click is 3)[ (set: $current_colour to "Purple") <script>changeColour(2);</script> (replace: ?AN)[Purple]] (elseif: $colour_click is 4)[ (set: $current_colour to "Yellow") <script>changeColour(3);</script> (replace: ?AN)[Yellow]] (elseif: $colour_click is 5)[ (set: $current_colour to "Purple Again") <script>changeColour(4);</script> (replace: ?AN)[Purple Again]] (elseif: $colour_click is 6)[(set: $colour_click to 0)]]} <div class="texts"> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">wow the bubble colour changes !!</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts author">|AN>[Blue]</div> </div> </div>

<h3>Build a Save Workshop</h3> Where do you want to be dropped off? {<h3 style="margin: 0;">(link: "Crossroads")[ (set: $chapter to 1) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "") (set: $player_profile to "true") (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} So you've been unwillingly bound to a powerful archdemon: all in all, a pretty exciting night at work. You go home to try and shower the horror away, but it doesn't work: Siruud finds you, and has an interesting offer. {<h3 style="margin: 0;">(link: "The Grind: Siruud")[ (set: $chapter to 2) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "s") (set: $player_profile to "true") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} You decided to help Siruud investigate why he was bound in addition to how to get unbound, so now the two of you need to hit up a local and very powerful witch for answers. Is anyone on your side in all this? Can you trust Siruud, your unwilling partner in inconvenience? {<h3 style="margin: 0;">(link: "The Grind: Tahira")[ (set: $chapter to 2) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "t") (set: $player_profile to "true") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} You decided to help Tahira recapture Siruud in addition to finding out how to unbind yourself from him, so now the two of you need to hit up your local magic scene for answers. What's Tahira hiding from you? Can you trust her, even if she has alterior motives? {<h3 style="margin: 0;">(link: "Food Town: Siruud")[ (set: $chapter to 3) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "s") (set: $player_profile to "true") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} With no leads on an immediate solution to the binding problem, you and Siruud need to look deeper. Grill him for answers in the most public and humiliating forum known to humanity: the grocery store. {<h3 style="margin: 0; font-size: 1.5em">(link: "Sir Flex-a-Lot's Workout Colosseum: Tahira")[ (set: $chapter to 3) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "t") (set: $player_profile to "true") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} You and Tahira have a semi-solid plan—a real Newtonian fluid of a plan—which requires the two of you to show up at your place of business (bad idea) to scrape for information (bad idea) from the Nervous System (catastrophically bad idea). In the meantimes, the two of you keep sharp at the place where humanity comes to humble itself: the novelty themed gym. {<h3 style="margin: 0;">Disciplinary Action: (link: "Siruud")[ (set: $chapter to 4) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "s") (set: $player_profile to "true") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")], (link: "Tahira")[ (set: $chapter to 4) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "t") (set: $player_profile to "true") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} The illusive CEO of SignetWorks has invited you to their office to go over your promotion paperwork—or so it seems. You've got a thousand questions and zero answers, with no time to fill in the blanks: the only thing you can do is show up. What could Adrien Bright really want with you? {<h3 style="margin: 0;">(link: "Warlock: Siruud")[ (set: $chapter to 5) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "s") (set: $player_profile to "false") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} It's been three days since your run-in with Bright, and you come to alone, afraid, and out of your mind. Siruud and Maureen finally track you down but you have more questions than answers, and more sweaty, dirty clothes than you care to think about in your current state. What happened, and more importantly...how did you fix it? {<h3 style="margin: 0;">(link: "Warlock: Tahira")[ (set: $chapter to 5) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "t") (set: $player_profile to "false") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} It's been three days since your run-in with Bright, and you come to alone, afraid, and out of your mind. Tahira and the Council finally track you down and you return to a world on fire and a choice to make. Find out what happened, and more importantly, how you fixed it. {<h3 style="margin: 0;">Gameplan: (link: "Siruud")[ (set: $chapter to 6) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "s") (set: $player_profile to "false") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")], (link: "Tahira")[ (set: $chapter to 6) (set: $passage to 0) (set: $route to "t") (set: $player_profile to "false") (set: $achieve01 to 1) (goto: "save-build01")]</h3>} You're a warlock now, which means...something. You're not sure at this point what it means, or if you can really encapsulate it into just one consequence. As you adjust to your new position in the world, you start to critically examine just how fucked you are—and how your one anchor in the world is doing their best to get away from you.

(css: "margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; font-size: 1.3em; width: 10%;")[First Name: <input type="text" data-varname="first" placeholder="Quinn"></div> Last Name: <input type="text" data-varname="last" placeholder="Reid"></div>] Some of these options you may not have set yet depending on what chapter you're on, in which case you'll be asked to set them in the story as per usual. Setting them here, in those cases, makes no difference. If you haven't encountered an option, you'll be able to change it when the choice appears. <table style="margin-bottom: -1em;"> <tr> <th>Pronouns:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_pronoun, "They/Them", "She/Her", "He/Him", "Xe/Xem", "Ey/Em", "It/It", "They/She", "They/He", "They/Ey", "They/Xe", "They/It", "She/He", "She/Xe", "She/Ey", "She/It", "He/Xe", "He/Ey", "He/It", "Ey/It", "Ey/Xe", "Xe/It")</th> <th>Past Job:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_past, "bartender", "bouncer", "forklift driver", "landfill labourer")</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Magic Type:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_magic, "flame", "frost", "blight")</th> <th>Hair Texture:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_hair, "straight", "curly", "natural", "shaved")</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Hair Colour:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_colour, "black", "orange", "red", "brown", "blonde", "grey", "blue", "purple", "pink", "green")</th> <th>Eye Colour:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_eyes, "brown", "black", "blue", "hazel", "grey", "green")</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Height:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_height, "tall", "average", "short")</th> <th>Personality:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_personality, "irritable", "compassionate", "charismatic")</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Complexion:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_complexion, "pale", "pink", "tan", "tawny", "brown", "black")</th> <th>Physique:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_physique, "fat", "middling", "thin")</th>  </tr> <tr> <th>Social Temperament:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_outgoing, "introvert", "ambivalent", "extrovert")</th>  <th>Player Diet:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $player_meat, "Vegetarian", "Omnivore")</th>  </tr> <tr> <th>Text Colour:</th> <th>(cycling-link: bind $current_colour, "Blue", "Green", "Purple", "Yellow", "Purple Again")</th> </tr> </table> {(if: $route is "t" and $chapter > 5)[ (link-repeat: "Did You Choose to Become Tahira's Warlock?")[ (set: $choice_count to it + 1) (if: $choice_count > 2)[(set: $choice_count to 1)] (if: $choice_count is 1)[ (set: $tahira_pact to 0) (set: $tahira_suss to 1) (set: $choice to "No, I refused to become Tahira's warlock") (replace: ?choice)[$choice]] (elseif: $choice_count is 2)[ (set: $tahira_pact to 1) (set: $choice to "Yes, I chose to become Tahira's warlock Are you suspicious of Tahira's goals and intentions? (cycling-link: bind $choice2, \"Yes, I am suspicious of Tahira\", \"No, I trust Tahira\")") (replace: ?choice)[$choice]]] |choice>[$choice] . . . . . ](else:)[. . . . . ]} {(link-repeat: "Reason For Joining SignetWorks")[ (set: $motive_count to it + 1) (if: $motive_count > 3)[(set: $motive_count to 1)] (if: $motive_count is 1)[ (set: $player_origin to "plucky") (set: $motive to "Plucky indicates that the employee in question was eager to prove themselves, wanted to be seen as a hero, and was seeking to impress the people around them.") (replace: ?context)[$motive]] (elseif: $motive_count is 2)[ (set: $player_origin to "stupid") (set: $motive to "Foolish indicates that the employee in question bought in to company propaganda about the Infernal and believed them to be a real threat to humanity that they wanted to fight.") (replace: ?context)[$motive]] (elseif: $motive_count is 3)[ (set: $motive to "Desperate indicates that the employee in question was frighteningly poor and joined the company to earn a paycheque, regardless of what was asked of them.") (set: $player_origin to "desperate") (replace: ?context)[$motive]]]} |context>[$motive] {(if: $route is "")[ (set: $nextpassage to "10")] (elseif: $route is "t")[ (if: $chapter is 2)[(set: $nextpassage to "20t")] (elseif: $chapter is 3)[(set: $nextpassage to "30t")] (elseif: $chapter is 4)[(set: $nextpassage to "40")] (elseif: $chapter is 5)[(set: $nextpassage to "50t")] (elseif: $chapter is 6)[ (set: $nextpassage to "60t") (if: $choice2 is "Yes, I am suspicious of Tahira")[(set: $tahira_suss to 1)] (elseif: $choice2 is "No, I trust Tahira")[(set: $tahira_suss to 0)]] ] (elseif: $route is "s")[ (if: $chapter is 2)[(set: $nextpassage to "20s")] (elseif: $chapter is 3)[(set: $nextpassage to "30s")] (elseif: $chapter is 4)[(set: $nextpassage to "40")] (elseif: $chapter is 5)[(set: $nextpassage to "50s")] (elseif: $chapter is 6)[(set: $nextpassage to "60s")]](align:"==>")[= (css: "font-size: 2em")[(link: "Start")[(goto: $nextpassage)]]}

(if: $player_magic is "flame")[Fire is kind of a bummer in the rain. It takes more energy to make anything worthwhile, and worse yet the sort to be out in the rain like it. They work best in it: you don't, which is just more workplace health and safety shit you signed away for a decent paycheck. For being most people's first choice when they're prompted to pick a type of magic, it's also the major with the highest dropout rate. You'd considered it more than once; it takes more concentration and willpower than one would expect of the most popular specialization, and you're meant to see things like heavy rain and damp environments as a challenge rather than a drawback. If you can't figure it out, then you don't deserve the flame.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[Frost actually works better when it's damp, but it can get out of control if you let it. There's a perfect level of moisture where it's a little more than baseline and a little less than having to keep yourself from creating skinny little ice needles from benign rain and this isn't it. That said, one of the highlights of your job, actually, is freezing the ground underneath your target and seeing if they learned to skate in Hell, so there's that to look forward to. Frost tends to attract a certain type of person, when chosen as a specialization; you've met more than one who was some type of winter athlete before turning to the fields that permitted magic. It's meant to be an emotional bond, in the sort of way that humans bond with horses; you've never been able to decide if you believe in that or not, or if it's even meant as a compliment. Frost has far better advantage than other specializations, though, and that's what matters.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[Blight magic gets real dicey where running water is involved, even just rain. You really don't feel like accidentally poisoning a whole block of people through the sewage system—best case scenario you just take out the hard workers at the water treatment plant—but it ties your hands as to what you can do. Luckily, your specialization is one of the only ones that actually bothers with combat. You have more responsibility than the other fields of magic do, and more accountability to go with it. Most places in the world have some sort of system in place for extreme cold or forest fires; very few are prepared for the sort of biological attacks that can be launched by a Blight master. Just the tests and checks and security involved in choosing it in the first place normally scares off half the people who apply. No one is stupid enough to think it'll scare off the worst of the worst, though, and you aren't convinced that's what they want.] Anyway, your magic isn't worth much if you don't direct it somewhere. A quiet night is only good on paper, although you're smart enough to recognize how insane it is that part of your job description is to hope very badly that something goes terribly wrong for the sake of your quota—it makes you feel a little like a cop, which makes your skin crawl. Still, since you're only in direct opposition to literal devils, monsters prowling streets they're not supposed to be on anyway...it could be worse. You could be worse. Probably.

You still can't quite will yourself to move, though, whether it be lethargy brought on by rain and a quiet night, or just one of those days (nights) where the thought of your job is so repulsive as to paralyze you. If you don't think about it, you don't have to confront it; instead, you look up and catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby window, and scoff at the shitty excuse for lighting that this sopping wet alley has inflicted upon you. Putting aside the acid pink glaring down on you like you're at a themed rave, you get a good look at what the rain has done to your hair. The colour is normally a perfectly decent (cycling-link: bind $player_colour, "black", "orange", "red", "brown", "blonde", "grey", "blue", "purple", "pink", "green"), but it's not looking it's best under the throbbing street signs, plastered to your face. There's no one to see the mess, not with the weather being what it is, but a glance up at the high rise apartments surrounding the burrow of an alley you're sitting in makes you think that maybe someone's bothered to look down at the wet mole hunched over but not moving.

You sigh, and run your fingers against your scalp, (cycling-link: bind $player_hair, "your straight hair sticking to your face and fingers in miserable clumps", "your loose curls frizzing up wildly and threatening more retribution", "already tired of the detangling you'll have to do for your tight curls", "feeling the scant prickle of hair growing back in and rain down the back of your neck"). Your discomfort had only mounted as more and more of you became unbearably rain-soaked: the solution is to get out of the rain, but you were staked out where you were told to go and if you abandon post and the target gets away... You have a quota, and during the first few minutes of the downpour you'd thought it was pretty noble to put yourself through the misery of the rain for the sake of your work. It just feels kind of stupid now: evidently your mark is either settled in for the night or has already slipped away, and they weren't even doing anything to begin with. You look down at your corporate ID with blank, existential eyes. The heat of your body has fogged it a bit, and you brush away the condensation over your name. You've always held the deeply insignificant belief that the text is wrong: your first name (<input type="text" data-varname="first" placeholder="Quinn"></div>) seems to be a little larger than your last name (<input type="text" data-varname="last" placeholder="Reid"></div>), but when you'd asked if maybe a mistake had been made, the man at the desk had said it didn't matter, and that was that.

(css: "font-size: 1.2em")[$first] $last, and always that meaningless mystery to keep things interesting. You figure, though, that if it is true and not just your eyes playing tricks, that the office did it on purpose. You're chief among their top offenders for losing your ID, and you suspect it was around the fifth replacement that they started this whole font thing; as a punishment, clearly. The rest of the information on the card is standard ID stuff: your pronouns ((cycling-link: bind $player_pronoun, "They/Them", "She/Her", "He/Him", "Xe/Xem", "Ey/Em", "It/It", "They/She", "They/He", "They/Ey", "They/Xe", "They/It", "She/He", "She/Xe", "She/Ey", "She/It", "He/Xe", "He/Ey", "He/It", "Ey/It", "Ey/Xe", "Xe/It")) and eye colour, which is actually a vital way to tell if a human is a real person or an Infernal Puppet ((cycling-link: bind $player_eyes, "brown", "black", "blue", "hazel", "grey", "green")), which you haven't been hit in the head enough to need a piece of paper to tell you, and the rest is just some miscellaneous form-fill information that's all numbers and measurements. This little card represents your whole world, every evening. The thought is so unbearably sad that you finally feel the will to stand up and shuffle out of the rain.

You slink back onto the street and elbow your way through the night shift crowd (cycling-link: bind $player_height, "with ease, as you're head and shoulders taller than most of them", "mumbling apologies as people make pointed eye contact with you", "with extreme difficulty, because you're half the height of most of them"). You have a passive eye out for Infernal tells—proportionately larger than a human, yellow eyes that glow unlike a humans could, maybe if you're lucky one of them just parading around without the conceit of a human disguise—but everyone in this crowd seems to check out, as far as you're willing to check. Infernal are fairly easy to spot out of diguise, so you're comfortable refocusing your attention on making your way rather than finding someone to interrogate. They're not dumb, though, and they know that looming above their mortal counterparts with horns that jut from their foreheads and arc back over their skulls and long, gleaming white fangs parting their lips is kind of a tell. Most of them go with human disguises to get through the day, and you just don't have the energy to really squint at any of these strangers. You'd argue that the ones that bother with human disguises probably feel the worst to bring in: they're really not doing anything but trying to walk down the street, or else their crimes are petty and mortal in a way that doesn't warrant forever-prison.

(set: $player_profile to "true")Really it's only the eyes that give them away once they put on a human skin (not literally: that would also be a tell), the boiling gold, magma colour of them. It would almost look like contacts, except that they move. Most people don't know any better (and it gets harder every year as fantastic cosmetic surgery becomes more accessible and more seamless), but you're paid to know, to see through the glamorous facade right into the fiery heart of the matter. It isn't always easy and you aren't always compensated as well as you should be, but it's the sort of job that suits you. For one, it lacks the classic office chitchat. As you walk down the rainy street, eyes peeled for other eyes, you make a list of civil niceties you don't have to observe: birthdays, baby showers, karaoke, holiday parties... No one invites you to things after they've seen you walk into a room just barely holding your guts in. And then you stop dead in your tracks, because you see it; the flash of gold, and a shiver down your spine as the person across the street grins with a mouthful of huge, white teeth... (link: "Run, idiot.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Dodge!")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)] (css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Achievement Unlocked: Velveteen Rabbit]

(if: $_temp is 0)[You turn without thinking twice, the only motion you're able to complete before you break into a sprint being to tug your hands out of your pockets so you don't fall flat on your face. Something you develop with this sort of job is the immediate flee reflex; sometimes Infernal are happy to just scare you away.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[The motion you make is entirely involuntary—first you brace, from head to toe, then you pivot to the side to avoid what you're certain is an attempted head-on collision. You don't stop to see if they followed through, because that's how you end up limping into the office holding your own damn arms like a cartoon character.] While you're running—and by all the powers in the universe, you are running—you feel your pocket start to vibrate. You ignore it at first because now certainly isn't the time, but after a few short seconds it begins again. You can hear footsteps behind you and grit your teeth, pushing forward as hard as you can; the phone stops ringing, then like the waking of a great beast, it starts again. That many rings while you're on shift means one person: Tahira.

Damn. You roll your eyes and make a jump for one of the higher hanging signs—with the momentum, you throw yourself up onto it and leap to grab onto a low hanging window sill. The key to doing stunts like this is to not give the arms an opportunity to protest before you start scaling the building, probably looking like some kind of ungainly bug while doing so. You reach the roof without much trouble, and slump behind the lip of the building. Pausing is a bad idea after what you just did, but you tear the phone out of your pocket. It's paid for by the company so you figure you have to check it, demon or no: and at this point it looks like you might have actually lost them, at least for a little while. She's texted, called, and emailed you multiple times; by now you've really fucked up, and it's best if you just do what she's demanded of you rather than waste time trying to contact her. Luckily she has made plain what your immediate next steps will be. {<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">when's the rain supposed to start?</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Divination says eight, weather app says seven</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">what do you say</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">why on earth would I know</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">$first $first $first</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">okay $first answer your phone</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">$first answer</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">$first answer</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">$first answer</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">I'm serious, $first answer</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">An artifact just came in I need you here</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Okay okay don't answer just go to my office</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">ASAP don't fuck around just get here</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">...</div> <div class="self-texts">(cycling-link: "omw", "on it boss", "oopsie, leaving now")</div> </div> </div>}

SignetWorks INC., 02:30 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 2s)[You limp past the revolving doors (which feel much stronger than usual) to the bulletproof glass, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that your bad night is about to get worse. First off, the demon was still chasing you and did very much catch up with you. Your organs are all in place, as far as you're aware, but that's about all you can say for your state; besides that the incident made you even more late to getting back to the office. The woman behind the glass gives you a look as you hobble up, like she's never seen a person who's just spent the better part of an hour and a half running before. You reach clumsily for your lanyard, only to find that the string has lost most of your ID—the company's logo is still there, along with a jumble of numbers and letters that mark the make of the card. You sigh, heavily: the damn thing was laminated, why has your whole night been like this? "ID, please," she offers, eyeing what is clearly an insufficient amount of identification. You close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath. (link: "\"Have I told you that you have stunning bone structure?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Look, I've just been in a fight...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Punch the glass.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You try for your most charming smile; the effect, you're certain, is ruined by your bloody teeth and split lips. She stares at you flatly, not even bothering to follow the trail of your lanyard to your hand where you're holding the shredded remains of a card you replaced probably last month at the latest.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[The whole thing rattles, but not much else; your knuckles hurt so much worse than they did before which was already a considerable amount, but you make a herculean effort to hide that from the receptionist who hadn't even flinched. "How much of my insides have to be on my goddamn outsides before you just send me through?" you hiss, your voice raspy with blood and effort.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You've done this song and dance many times, and there's no use burning bridges at the foundational level of the bureaucracy. They'll get skittish if you start being too nice, but with the right application of basic civility and honesty, you can slog through the system with some speed.] "No ID, no entry," she says with the well practiced indifference of someone who's sat through several VHS tapes about the many ways that they would be penalized if a demon made their way past the front line. It makes sense somewhere in the back of your pain-hazed brain; if a demon can look like a human, they can surely look like an injured human. Unfortunately you're finding that you really don't care and have too many panicked texts from your boss to deal with this. "Call Tahira," you insist, gritting your teeth as a pulse of agony comes out of your gut in the form of an unsettling amount of blood. "She's expecting me." Hopefully she's actually in her office and not too busy doing whatever she wants you back in the office to help with.

For a second the receptionist looks skeptical, but does dial the number; maybe because you look rough, or maybe because she thinks you're bluffing. Thankfully you're not and you can hear Tahira impatiently authorizing your entry. When she hangs up, the woman turns to you. "She says to replace your ID on the way out," she says flatly, going back to her monitor. Cool. You can do that. You drag yourself forward, self-consciously checking behind you for bloody footprints. You're not sure what you would do if you did see them, but you're keeping it together pretty well. No one gives you a second look as you push yourself to the elevator, waiting until the doors are closed to collapse. It's a little dramatic, especially considering that Tahira's going to heal you before putting you to work, but you were never even nearly eviscerated when you were a (cycling-link: bind $player_past, "bartender", "bouncer", "forklift driver", "landfill labourer"). You only faced a regular amount of danger, considering the lax nature of day-to-day workplace safety. You lean your head back against the lightly rumbling wall, sighing deeply; and then the stupid elevator stops, and opens. For one second you almost hope that it's Tahira and she did some wild floor calculations to meet you. It isn't, of course. It's just some harried looking office nerd with an armful of paperwork, who honestly doesn't even see you at first. You let your eyes slip closed. (link: "\"All right, now I don't mean to scare you...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Scream, right now, as loud as you can given the circumstances.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Well there's really no good way to do this, huh?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[There's no point in trying to approach it delicately, because...well if he doesn't see you now, there isn't much else you can do to be more obvious. The best thing is to just get it over with so he can pretend at some dignity—or not. You're not the dignity cops, obviously. And of course, you're right; despite your blithe tone, he jolts and drops most of his important-looking papers.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[He might have heard you when you sucked in a deep, rasping breath to do so, but that only makes it better when he jumps a solid three feet straight up in the air and lets out a shrill shriek of his own. You cackle; it didn't help with the pain but it made you feel better.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[He jolts violently, dropping a decent chunk of his papers. Some of them, unfortunately, settle against you. "I'm going to ruin your work," you tell him with all the urgency you can muster given that you don't quite care. It's nothing against him and you're sure it's important but...priorities.] He gets off at the next floor without bothering to retrieve what he dropped, but at least the elevator is empty again, and continues on towards your destination without further interference. In retrospect maybe you should've asked if he had any healing skills, but it's too late for that now. You focus on drawing on the energy you'll need to stand up in a second; it takes more gumption than you thought it would, but you've managed to pull yourself to your feet before the door opens. Again, you'd hoped Tahira would very suavely be standing there when the doors opened, but instead you have to push past a group of wide-eyed new hires to get to the closed door of her office, with the fancy gold-plate that officially declares her Head Priestess in the Retrieval Division. You work for her as a Retrieval Officer, which is about as far away as you can get from Head Priestess without answering civilian calls.

You've always been her favourite, in a weird way. Tahira isn't the type to say something like that out loud, but you're her go-to officer for sensitive jobs and everyone knows it. You've heard horror stories of other priestesses running their officers into the ground, especially the ones stupid enough to take the difficult jobs. Tahira is always cautious, and has a nose for the work that the other priestesses just...lack. She gets the job, and you're safer for it. If you're the safest of your kind and still limping along leaving a trail of blood behind you like a cult classic slasher victim, then it's no wonder that Retrieval has the highest turnover rates in the company. (link: "You'll tough it out no matter what.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You're one bad day away from quitting.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You try not to think too much about work.")[(set: $_temp to 2)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[You're not a quitter, as evidenced by your extremely painful wounds, and maybe you're not paid well but you're paid. Sometimes that has to be enough.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You fantasize about exactly how you'd do it, and it involves politely handing your notice to Tahira (who hasn't earned your wrath) and then going to the break room to steal everything that isn't nailed down.](elseif: $_temp is 2)[Your number one solution for stress and unease about your work is to clock in and out with your brain as much as your employee ID number. On the clock, you think about hitting quota. Off the clock, you stare at a wall, willing yourself to not let work dominate your brain.] Regardless of where you end up, though, you're here now and if you listen carefully, you can hear music reverberating through the office door. It's a full symphony piece, and you're not entirely sure how to interpret it. Angry? Busy? Just likes orchestral work? (link: "You tentatively knock.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You open the door and knock as you're entering.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You just open the damn door.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[She doesn't answer, which you attribute to the music playing. The agony of decision overwhelms you as you try to decide whether it's better to knock louder or just go in; she wanted you urgently, but that doesn't mean she'll appreciate you barging in. It may also be unsafe, depending on what she needed you for; but you reason that it could also be unsafe for you to procrastinate your entry, and so you take a breath and open the door.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Knock knock," you say, for some reason, as you step into the room.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[You did get your shit rocked because you were occupied with her frantic texts for help that couldn't be rendered by anyone but you. She can deal with the consequences.] Her office is completely dark, lit only by a desk lamp that's been wrenched out of its usual position to cast harsh light against her face. She stands with her hands braced on her desk, her shadow high and arching across the ceiling like an enormously tall, malevolent ghost looming over her. For a second it almost looks like its moving separately from her, but to be fair, you've lost a lot of blood. You blink your eyes hard and grit out... (link: "\"Reporting for duty...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Special delivery!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Before I do anything for you, sew me back up.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

All at once the illusion shrinks and everything goes back to looking normal. Her shadow isn't a huge wiry marionette behind her, the light is less malicious and more cheap office furniture store, and your boss is your boss. Tahira is tall and has long black hair in twin braids down over her shoulders. She looks tired, she looks wired, and she gestures for you to close the door behind her. (if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["What happened to you this time?" she asks like you came in wearing swimwear, a hat with horns on it, with an ostrich trailing behind you. Oh you, cue laughter, ignore the blood.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I can see that," she says wryly, and you avert your eyes, embarrassed. You're in quite the state and she was obviously hoping for you to be task-ready. Instead here you are, injured because you were on your phone.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["I doubt you'd be very useful in that state anyway," she says with a faint smile. You grunt and she pats your shoulder, ignoring your surly demeanor even though you think you really earned it this time.] She gestures shortly and you feel your skin start to knit together as she digs through her desk for a sleeve of cookies for your to snack on for the wooziness. She's a good healer, maybe the best the company has—or maybe you're biased because none of the other priestesses let you bleed all over their office. (link: "\"I have the artifact,\" you say, hoping to impress.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I didn\'t get the artifact,\" you admit sheepishly.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["Oh, that's nice," she says distractedly, waving her hand towards the wall where there's a pneumatic tube system. "If you wanna fill out a quick form and send it down to the Archives for me..."](elseif: $_temp is 1)["Oh, I didn't think you did," she says with a careless laugh. "If you'd had it I would have said you worked too hard for it." Right. Because of the way you got your ass handed to you.] The mention of the artifact seems to bring her back to the box on her desk, and you recognise that sigils are burnt into the box in a particular pattern to begin a pretty heavy-duty binding. Those are usually reserved for high flight risks, and usually done down in Archiving for a quick hand off. (if: $_temp is 0)[You quickly rid yourself of the artifact jammed in your pocket—a stray hunk of amethyst—scribbling in its details before sending it with a pressurized thwump down to the basement.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You straighten up as your wounds begin to heal, trying to give yourself the air of someone who didn't fuck up their only task for the evening and stagger in after a bad fight. You think it almost kind of works.] "Is that the artifact?" you ask, and she nods. "Who brought it in?" Tahira's head snaps up, her round brown eyes fixed on you like you said something strange. "What?" (link: "\"What what?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I asked who brought it in.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Uh...who...brought in the demon?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[She watches you flicker uncertainly, then laughs softly. "Sorry, I thought—don't worry about it," she says, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Come on, $first, don't start with me," she says dismissively, and you put your hands up. "I just asked who brought it in." "It doesn't matter. It just matters that it's here."](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[You level her with a flat stare and she seems to flicker before your eyes, then smiles dismissively. "You're so stern. It's here now and that's all you need to worry about."] That's a weird and evasive from Tahira, and if it happens to be true then it's extremely out of character. Tahira is a details kind of person, to the point where if she never rises above Head Priestess to something even higher paid and less involved in what the company actually does, it'll be because she annoys people with specificity and attention to details. "I just need you to watch the box." "That's it?" You can't keep the rasp out of your voice, as the sensation of your own skin mending is, uhm, horrific. She nods, picking the whole thing up and handing it to you; it's much lighter than you expected, although a little unwieldy anyway. You're surprised when you shake it that it is not the artifact— something rattles around inside. "For how long?" She purses her lips and turns away, gently smoothing back her hair that's begun to frizz out of its binds. "Not long. I just need to step out and do a little research—finish your shift here, and I'll be back by then." She starts to gather up a few notebooks, hastily putting pens back in their jars. "It shouldn't do anything," she adds. Then why is it bothering you so much? (link: "\"Gotcha.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Should I expect my bonus in the mail?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I've got it covered.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You fold your arms over your chest and wait impatiently for her to finish collecting her things. She does and breezes by you, smelling like perfume but in an expensive and elegant way that doesn't stick to your tongue—more like a flurry of petals rushing by. This leaves you alone with the box.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[As if. She snorts, and something straightens about her posture as she finishes collecting everything she needs. "I'll see you after your shift," she says hastily, then without further ceremony, hurries out of the room. That leaves you alone with the box.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[She nods once, and you get the idea she's trying to keep something from you. For a second she wavers, as if there's an admission coming; but there isn't, and she only finishes collecting her things and makes a swift exit. This leaves you, alone, with the box.] You flop down into Tahira's modern, ergonomic office chair. It's comfortable and urges you to straighten your posture instead of slouching like you are. You ignore it, spinning around because it's a spinning chair and you're pretty sure it's a crime to not take advantage of that with nothing else to do. When you're in your twenties, it's hard to imagine what life is gunna look like. You contemplate the impossibility of your younger self creating a clear picture of you in someone else's office, spinning around on a chair, guarding a wooden box. You signed up to SignetWorks back then with a very different purpose. (link: "Desperation, as ever.")[(set: $player_origin to "desperate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Something to prove.")[(set: $player_origin to "plucky")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You were gullible.")[(set: $player_origin to "stupid")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $player_origin is "desperate")[Tale as old as time, you needed money: more than you were getting (if: $player_past is "bartender")[at a lonely dive bar in a bad location](elseif: $player_past is "bouncer")[huddled outside a skeevy bar throwing sex pests out on their asses](elseif: $player_past is "forklift driver")[skipping breaks for the warehouse manager](elseif: $player_past is "landfill labourer")[wearing worn-out PPE to sort through improperly disposed sharps]. You were worse off than you are now and tired of couch surfing, shakily bookmarking resources online telling you where to go and what to do should the whole 'place to stay' thing get yanked out from under you while trying not to think too hard about it...and then there was SignetWorks.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Some kids had high aspirations, but you'd gotten all the way to adulthood with only the certainty that continuing to be alive was the worthiest goal you could muster. You noticed it start to permeate everything you did: you were never busy, everything interesting was happening somewhere else, and upon hearing that you were spending your evenings (if: $player_past is "bartender")[working a bar](elseif: $player_past is "bouncer")[standing outside a club](elseif: $player_past is "forklift driver")[driving around a warehouse](elseif: $player_past is "landfill labourer")[nearly alone at the dump], you were met with either pity or skeptic disdain. What do you really do? What are you trying to get to? You needed a goal, and then there was SignetWorks.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[Infernals have always existed, much longer than humans—much longer than the common ancestor between humans and apes, and much longer before that. There's so much about them that you didn't understand: if they were immortal then why didn't they know anything about themselves? Why didn't they know anything about humans? If the same guy (if: $player_past is "bartender")[smashing up the bar](elseif: $player_past is "bouncer")[trying to cajole his way into the club](elseif: $player_past is "forklift driver")[stealing shit from the warehouse](elseif: $player_past is "landfill labourer")[hiding out in the dump] was there at the beginning of time, why couldn't he share that information with humans? You didn't understand shit, and then there was SignetWorks.] The company was meant to be a liberal solution to the issue of the Infernal. They're stronger than humans, they're faster, and they've been alive since the world has so they're obviously difficult to harm because they haven't been reproducing: what are mere mortals supposed to do if they decide to hurt us? SignetWorks leveraged a difficult political situation—the proposed increase in police forces—to play the local government. Why put our brave men and women in blue (barf) in harm's way? Why agitate the population by militarizing the police force? Why not just hand over security to a private company? And now here you are, for better or worse. You spin the chair again, blinking a little heavier than what is appropriate for someone on duty. It's been a long night, and while you have slept in the office before, you're not looking for a repeat. This hell-space wins hands down for the worst place on the planet to try and sleep, between the constant haunted moaning from Archives to the Breach department which occasionally shakes the entire building trying to rebind what has come loose. Luckily your box is silent.

Usually a demon in the midst of a binding—or even immediately afterwards—kicks up a hell of a fuss, even just on a sonic level. There's not a lot of room for them to do anything else, as the binding is foremost physical; as you make another turn around your office-axis, you wonder absently if it hurts. Usually by the time you've dismantled them now into their basest component, you're too injured to be worrying about how they're doing. You hardly feel the next few rounds in your chair, although your stomach is threatening to mutiny if you keep acting stupid as you are. As quickly as you dropped into it, you find the chair adventure isn't fun anymore and come to a quivering halt; your vision spins and you rub your eyes to try and refocus, like a grown up. And you immediately see that the box is open. (link: "Panic. Oh god. Panic.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Stay calm. Artifacts can't move autonomously.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Punch the desk.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[No no no no no no no no no no no no. Absolutely not, this cannot happen. You gape, open mouthed, with your hands pressed to your face. Where did it go? How did it move? How did it break the bindings, what was being bound? You should have asked if the box was a flight risk, you should have asked what sort of demon, Tahira will kill you and hide your body so good that no one will ever find your bones.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You let yourself absorb the shock all at once, in slow motion, then exhale the momentum of terror. It can't move on its own. Once a demon is within its artifact, reduced down as low as it can go barring death, of course it can't just pick up and walk away. Retrieval would be impossible if you also had to play needle in a haystack with every random piece of crap in the city. The only way it would have even a fraction of the power required to do that would be if it were some sort of archdemon...](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[Stupid box stupid demon stupid job stupid boss. You don't even know what was inside, how are you supposed to track it down before Tahira gets back? And how do you fix the thin crack you left in the desk before she gets back? This is the stupid box's fault, and the stupid artifact wherever it went. You were pretty sure before that nothing short of an archdemon could—] Oh no. Ohhh, no. What would have that sort of power to move autonomously outside of its physical body? An archdemon. Only an archdemon, which is far beyond your position. It is so, deeply out of your depth that you'd laugh if you weren't suddenly terrified. Your eyes flicker to the door and you're suddenly uncertain—what do you even do in this situation? One part of you wants to secure the exits, but there's too many. The walls are mostly windows and the door is just an office door. How do you keep something from leaving when you don't know what or how heavy it is? Keeping your ears perked for any noise that sounds like the door or breaking glass, you take a deep breath and drop to your knees, darting under the desk. Maybe getting out of the box was too much, and gravity had to take over. The seals weren't broken on the wood, but along the edges the papers with the various symbols and sacred words have peeled away—almost like a cartoon where a bad smell peels the wallpaper. You haven't checked to see if there were burn marks, but that's something for after you check and see if there's anything unusual under the desk. Please let there be something...

Altogether it's disappointingly neat: only a few stray pen caps and an ugly discarded bracelet. You...don't know that these items are not the items you're seeking, but it's hard to get your hopes up about things so banal. Maybe in someone else's office you'd side eye the stuff, but Tahira wears jewellery that you don't really ruminate on long enough to judge and you've personally seen her fiddling with small office items absent mindedly. You pick up all of it and place it on the desk, trying to slow your breathing a sensible amount so you can get a plan together. You push the chair away, kneeling again to check under one of the fancy drawers; if the object was circular, it might've rolled and you can't rule anything in the room out at this point. There's dust and a ring you're reaching for, and a dull thud behind you. You stiffen and turn, finding the bracelet and all the pen caps on the floor again. Your options aren't narrowed down, as all the items seemed to have fallen separately. With no physical momentum involved it's difficult to pinpoint which of the items might have initiated the move. Stupid crap!

It still could be something else in the room trying to throw you off, but...well you do have a sense for magic, of course, and something tells you despite your inability to really identify and deal with the artifact that it's one or the other. You want to say the bracelet, because...god why would it be the pen caps, but at the same time that would be exactly what the demon would want you to think. A reach for the obvious is a risk you're not willing to take. You stuff all of it into your pockets, resolving to run somewhere to get Tahira. She didn't tell you where she was going so you can't call her, and you don't want to incite a panic by calling around. It has to be one or the other—the caps or the bracelet—and you'll find out which one when you find Tahira. You turn to leave and feel the thud at your feet; the lot of it is on the floor again, having slipped from your sweater which seems insanely unlikely as your phone is still in there. You're being screwed with—it's only the suspected items that are moving. Does that mean it's neither? Are you about to go charging out into the office with a pocket full of crap, leaving the released artifact on its own? The real question, you think, is whether or not you can really risk not doing so, to which is answer is absolutely not.

But how do you move it if it won't let itself move further than the desk? You experiment a few times and while there doesn't seem to be a hard border where the items will drop, it does seem to have a preference for the table it had originated. You can't even begin to understand why—away from Tahira's bindings seems to be the logical route, but instead it wants to stay near them. Or maybe the shit just knows what you mean to do with the artifact once you find it. After roughly the seventh attempt to leave the room with the item failing, you need a new plan. The caps are easy enough; just hold them in your fist and their range is limited. The issue becomes the bracelet: it has no clasp, made of a thin gold band shaped into the wire frame of a rectangle and wrapped around the wrist. On top of the wrist there's a set of three large rubies framed with more gold—it's actually an ugly thing to look at, but it looks like it'll about fit your wrist. At the very least, it'll show you whether or not it has control over its physical dimensions or just its position. You slip it on. Your whole arm vibrates.

The thing tightens sharply around your wrist, clamping in a way that might have hurt if you weren't already occupied by the horrible torched burning of your skin. You gasp without air, the pain so focused and intense you can't suck in the breath to shriek; the agony moves up to your elbow, the lava travelling through your veins that glow orange through your suddenly fragile-feeling skin. Somehow, distantly, you still manage to feel a little bit embarrassed about the handful of pen caps in your pocket. You stumble backwards and trip awkwardly on the chair, and you hit the ground ungracefully—again, luckily the burning has reached your shoulder, and your fingers are cracked and ashy by now so you hardly have the brainpower to spare for your tailbone bruising. Raspy and out of breath, you manage to serve some air to your parched lungs and stretch your burning arm out and away from you; and with a burst of energy that recoils so hard you feel like your shoulder's dislocated, your afflicted arm goes limp. You breathe again. You hardly have a moment for relief, though, because your gaze turns dizzily upwards to try and make sense of what had just happened and you see probably among the worst things that it was possible to see after that ordeal. When the smoke clears...

Before you stands a masculine figure that seems almost like he's been cut out of the backdrop of the office. He's covered in long triangular scales and flat shimmering snakeskin in slate grey, like he's been fashioned from wet stone. His horns make him tower further than he does anyway, adding a good foot to his generous pre-existing seven, and gold drips from them. His teeth gleam between his lips and when he moves you feel the very air in your lungs ripple. The archdemon. "Not how I planned my release," he says, absently pushing his handsthrough his hair that shudders into a loose ponytail. It's also black, although that hardly seem pertinent considering you're going to die the second he gets his look together. "But, here I am either way. Where's..." He trails off and you have a terrible feeling like you know what he's looking for. And then he notices you, exhausted and injured and sprawled on your ass like he punched you. The hand with the bracelet is limp at your side, which is going to be a big problem for you but only for roughly a minute. He approaches you—and he smells like smoke in a weirdly comforting way, but you try to ignore it so you feel less like your dying brain is conjuring something nice for your final moments. "This is mine," he scolds, reaching for your wrist.

More agony as he pulls it, but you're well past being able to do more than weakly wheeze at him. You should be running, or kicking, or screaming...anything but watching his big hands pull the bracelet from your wrist. You try to think of something through the pain-haze, but your normal means of combating the demons was checked when you enter the building; no weapons on premise, for pretty much exactly this reason. The only thing worse than a demon is a demon with a gun. You frown, though, because as he pulls the stupid ugly thing that's left scorch marks on your skin...it doesn't budge. You'd try to help him if your other arm weren't paralyzed in fear, and instead are left to wonder alongside him why it won't come off your wrist. The box, from its spot on the desk, glows faintly. That's probably a bad sign. "I think the both of us have made some miscalculations tonight," he says slowly, fixing his eyes on you. You've...never been this close to a demon without being simultaneously fighting for your life. You get a good look at his eyes, and while you expect fear you're just sort of...deliriously dazzled. They're the same molten colour you've come to expect—definitely a little yellower than you tend to picture but that's semantics—but now it makes your burnt arm tingle hotly. (link: "\"Think I got you beat: no offence.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Let's just...slow down, for a moment, and talk.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I'm going to tear you to pieces with my bare hands.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[As far as mistakes go, it's hard to argue that you're in a better position than him. The joke makes him laugh which...well it's something, you guess. Not anything helpful but you always envisioned going out on a decent line.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[There's a way out, there has to be a way out. Considering you're still alive, it seems to follow that you really should be using your time wisely; and considering he hasn't killed you yet, maybe hope isn't lost.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[It's bravado, but the way he laughs is more delighted than unkind. You're not sure if that makes you angry or not, but you're definitely not happy. The threat may not mean much to him, but with every passing second it means more to you.] He smiles, as if reading your thoughts—it's not a comforting expression, what with the teeth, but you're not sure the feeling that jolts down your back is wholly fear. You always expect to die, so maybe you're letting yourself off easy by not examining how interesting it is to finally observe a demon for longer than it takes them to notice you. The archdemon is beautiful in the way that the deepest, blackest parts of the ocean are beautiful and the enormous expanse of space and stars are beautiful: in a way that makes you feel dangerously fragile. "I'll make it mostly painless, since you've been so quiet." You resist the urge to point out that it isn't voluntary, because how can you turn down a deal like that? You haven't thought of anything more useful to be doing, so this way at least gives you a death a person can be satisfied with (all circumstances considered).

He kneels, still so much bigger than you in breadth and height even on his knees, even as he urges you to lie back; you frown a moment before realizing what he means to do. He means to kill you magically which actually is what he promised; and you're a little surprised at the lack of deception. As he hovers over you, you feel almost drugged with some of that real expensive medication. "I don't care about the killing, you know," he says, almost conversationally. "You spend so long doing it because you have to that it's just a short jump to doing it because it's easier than the alternative." "What's the alternative?" you ask, not above a murmur. He gives you a look, almost like you're entertaining him. You kind of expected him to answer, but it becomes clear that he isn't going to. You brace yourself for the moment it happens, wondering morbidly if it will hurt; instead, an uncomfortable amount of time passes before you open your eyes again to see him frowning. "Sorry dear, just a moment..." he murmurs, then draws back his arm sharply. You flinch but only feel yourself catch his fist as it falls harmlessly into your instinctively outstretched grasp. He reaches out for your face and you think for a moment he's revoking his merciful end promise; and as it turns out, he's trying to. He just can't. His grip is soft and his nails only manage to run hard enough to give you chills. He leans down and his teeth can bite, but not rend; they can also make you feel very very weird and aware that you're laying almost underneath your boss' desk getting gently nibbled by an archdemon. "Looks like you made one less mistake than me," he says faintly, propping himself up again. His indifference actually makes you feel a little more at ease; although you still sort of wonder if it's pain, fear, resignation, or magic that's keeping you calm. "And you and I have a few things to discuss."

(set: $random to (random: 1,2))"Pull up a seat," you offer, knowing he won't fall for it. He stands back up and stretches, evidently still reeling from the novelty of escaping his artifact— the bracelet, so obviously the stupid bracelet. The one now burned onto your wrist and, as a few tired tugs confirm, unwilling to come off. You eyes flutter to the glowing box, and you try to think reasonably through this disassociation. The bindings on the box weren't wholly destroyed when he escaped; a partial bind, then? To the desk, maybe, which would explain why he wouldn't wander away from it. To my arm, you add darkly, in your mind, but dismiss it sharply. No need for that attitude. "Clever," he offers wryly, approaching you as you pull yourself up on Tahira's desk again. You're standing, albeit shakily, and he approaches— and he's tall, so unsettlingly tall which only gets worse when he bends overtop of you like a tree in a storm. The door is thrown open with a bang that sounds like a gunshot in your pain-drunk state. (if: $random is 1)[You instinctively roll under the desk, ignoring the way your entire body cries out in protest like you just fell down a flight of stairs.](elseif: $random is 2)[You flinch so hard that your body cries out in protest, the instinctual fear too much for it to process of top of everything else.] "You!" Tahira booms, and the force of the magic she releases in the direction of the demon makes your teeth rattle in your head.

The archdemon's arm comes down swiftly in front of him, and the chaotic magic ripples off an invisible surface to soak into the nullifying magic of the walls. "Me," he agrees disdainfully, then turns to you. "Remember, mortal, that you could run to the very edge of this miserable world and throw yourself from the side and I would still find you," he hisses, and then he just...disappears. It's like sand blowing away but less tangible, though more solid than smoke dissipating. Tahira dives forward to stop him but she could no more stop a wet flame from guttering than she could keep the archdemon in her office. You can hear the ticking of a clock somewhere just before all the windows explode with a deep-voiced cackle. (if: $random is 1)[You're mostly shielded from the force of the blast by being under the desk, but you feel a thousand tiny cuts and the glitterdust glass explodes.](elseif: $random is 2)[Your loyal arms jerk to cover your head and face from the force of the explosion before they fall completely limp, finally useless.]Tahira casts a barrier almost quickly enough that you wonder if she anticipated the explosion, then storms over to you. Wordlessly she reaches out to take the wrist with the bracelet on it, glowering in incomprehension. "I was binding his artifact to the box, $first, what the hell happened?" she asks between gritted teeth, her expression alternating between furious and terrified. You maybe would have liked to straighten out before coming up to bat for yourself, but short of her healing you again there isn't a lot that's going to give you momentum to get even as far as the office chair. You're trying to ignore the glass situation as best you can. "In my defence," you begin, which is a bad way to start, "I think the binding worked." She shuts her eyes and takes a long, deep breath.

(set: $player_title to "Disciplinary Agent")You're just about to break and ask to at least go downstairs to find the clinic, when she gently presses the palms of her hands to the box. You hope for a second that she's doing some kind of magic that's going to fix what just happened, but it turns out she's just trying to ground herself. "No one can know what's happened here," she says, forcing confidence into her voice. "We'll both be fired; you for releasing him and me for putting you in charge in the first place." Well, it's a little better than I'm going to throw you under the bus. "So what do we do?" you ask, and she winces as if the unpleasant answer had only just occurred to her. "We're going after him, of course, but first thing's first...a promotion." You think, for a moment, that maybe he did actually kill you and the afterlife is just not as good as advertised. "That will allow you to work directly with me, free of the obligation of patrols and street surveillance. From there, we only have to find him and bring him back." Only. "Tell me what I need to do," you answer, too tired to do anything but obey. "Well, you just released Siruud the Devourer from his artifact and inadvertently bound him to you." The tone really isn't necessary as you're already pretty aware of what went wrong, but you don't say so because her hands glow pink and yellow and you begin to heal again. "My advice is to have a plan of action on my desk by tomorrow afternoon, (link: "Agent $last.\"")[(goto: "trans")]

{(if: $player_profile is "false")[(css: "text-align: center;")[<h2>THE INFORMATION CONTAINED IN THIS DOCUMENT IS CONFIDENTIAL. SEE CALRIN CHOI FOR ADMINISTRATIVE ACCESS.</h2>]] (elseif: $player_profile is "true" and $player_defen is 1)[REQUESTED DOCUMENT DOES NOT EXIST. FURTHER INQUIRIES WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.] (elseif: $player_profile is "true" and $player_defen is 0)[ FROM THE DESK OF AGENT CALRIN CHOI As requested, for Founder Bright, the following is an account of the (if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[obnoxious do-gooder of a](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[scowling brute of a](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[obnoxious clown of a](elseif: $player_personality is "")[bland, personality-free] $player_title, $first $last. (if: $chapter is 0)[ For what it's worth, I don't see what all the fuss is about: (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[$he's](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[$he're] just a garden variety employee. The only notable thing about $him is that $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[were] among the first of our employees, but seniority has earned $him very little throughout the years.](elseif: $chapter is 1)[I find it strange that this middling little nobody spends most of the company's lifespan trudging along in obscurity, only to find $himself on a meteoric rise prompted by...nothing. Sure, the High Priestess put forward a typically airtight case for $his promotion, but everything she presented to us was already true: so why now?](elseif: $chapter is 2)[I'm particularly interested in the career of Agent $last. A month ago I wouldn't have been able to pick $him out of a crowd, but now after a meteoric rise through the company ranks...(if: $gender_singular contains $he)[$he's](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[$he've] disappeared. (upperfirst: $he) (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[avoids](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[avoid] the office, $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[doesn't](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[don't] take regular patrols or fill out $his own forms...and the priestess acts as if nothing is amiss.] To begin, there is the fairly dull matter of $first $last as a person. (upperfirst: $he) (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[is](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[are] (if: $player_height is "tall" or $player_height is "short")[a $player_height $player_magic user of average skill](elseif: $player_height is "average")[a $player_magic user of average skill and height], with $player_eyes eyes and $player_colour hair ((if: $player_hair is "natural")[tightly curled](else:)[$player_hair]). (upperfirst: $he) (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[uses](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[use] $player_pronoun pronouns. (if: $player_diverse is "true")[Despite repeated invitations to the compulsory employee diversity celebrations held during every employee break by the marketing team, and $his unique suitability to photo opportunities ((if: $player_hair is "curly" or $player_hair is "natural")[(set: $hair_variable to 1)diverse hair texture](if: $player_color is "red" or $player_colour is "orange" or $player_colour is "black")[(set: $colour_variable to 1)(if: $hair_variable is 1)[, marketable hair colour](else:)[marketable hair colour]](if: $player_eyes is "brown" or $player_eyes is "black" or $player_eyes is "hazel")[(set: $eye_variable to 1)(if: $hair_variable is 1 or $colour_variable is 1)[, distinct eye colour](else:)[distinct eye colour]](if: $player_height is "short")[(set: $height_variable to 1)(if: $hair_variable is 1 or $colour_variable is 1 or $eye_variable is 1)[, vertically challenged](else:)[vertically challenged]](unless: $player_pronoun is "He/Him")[(set: $pronoun_variable to 1)(if: $hair_variable is 1 or $colour_variable is 1 or $height_variable is 1 or $eye_variable is 1)[, non-standard pronouns](else:)[non-standard pronouns]]), $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[refuses](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[refuse] to attend.] (elseif: $player_diverse is "false")[$last is so unremarkable as to be useless to the marketing department, and by extension very little is actually noted about $him in our systems.] (if: $player_past is "")[] (else:)[ (if: $player_past is "bartender")[ $last came to us from the hospitality industry, having worked as a bartender at some shady, out of the way dive bar. (if: $player_origin is "")[Further research is required on why they joined the company, but what's important is that they're here now.] (elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[According to the hiring department, one hardly had to ask $his motivation for applying: their finances were on the brink of utter oblivion and they reeked of desperation.] (elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Like many of our early applicants, $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[were] hotheaded and self-conscious, desperate to prove something to someone.] (elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[It's no wonder that nobody noticed $him before now, as $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[were] one of the teeming masses who joined us to eradicate evil or whatever we were telling them back then.]] (elseif: $player_past is "bouncer")[ $last had previously worked as a bouncer at some seedy club before applying to work with us. (if: $player_origin is "")[I'm currently waiting to hear the hiring department's recorded impressions of $him when $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[were] hired, but I don't expect anything groundbreaking.] (elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[Apparently $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $player_plural contains $he)[were] extremely concerned about salary during the interview process, so it's really no mystery what $he signed up for.] (elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[To hear the hiring department tell it, $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[were] hardly present during the interview process, answering forcefully and with all the grace of someone compeltely over-rehearsed: someone desperate to be someone.] (elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[At the start $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[were] an indistinct resumé in a sea of similar applicants, wanting to fight demons and save the world: easily led and easily taken advantage of.]] (elseif: $player_past is "forklift driver")[ $last drove forklift before $he applied with us, so I suppose the solitude and monotony of the work was of little concern to them. (if: $player_origin is "")[The hiring department struggles to recall anything distinct about $him, but I will maintain pressure to dig something up.] (elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[It's perhaps unsurprising that $he came to us for work, considering the pay hike: the hiring department notes that $he reacted strongly to the proposed starting rate.] (elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Despite the fairly routine schedule of a Retrieval Officer, $he seemed to put a great amount of emphasis on the importance of the work. The hiring department agreed to avoid agitating $him.] (elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[(upperfirst: $he) reportedly treated the application process very solemnly, which isn't unusual for applicants: marketing did a fantastic job on the company line about the Infernal being inherently dangerous.]] (elseif: $player_past is "landfill labourer")[ It isn't surprising that $last found $his way to us, considering that $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[was](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[were] working in a dump. (if: $player_origin is "")[I can't imagine that the hiring department will find anything of interest of $him, but I've ordered them to try anyway.] (elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[Apparently $he tired of the dangerous and disgusting work of a garbage-picker: all it took to sign $him on was a small pay hike.] (elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Anything is more meaningful than sorting through other people's waste, and so $he hardly asked any questions at all before signing our contract.] (elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[It's perhaps unsurprising that someone whose highest achievement was garbage bought the company line about evil demons hook, line, and sinker. (upperfirst: $he) took hardly any convincing to sign the paperwork.]] (upperfirst: $his) origin is hardly pertinent, however. (if: $chapter is 0 or $chapter is 1)[Something unsettles me about $him, but $he(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)['ve] hardly done anything to warrant such caution...or, if I may add, interest from on high.](else:)[(if: $route is "t")[What concerns me is the close working relationship $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[maintains](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)[maintain] with the High Priestess, Tahira. What potential does she see in $him?](elseif: $route is "s")[What concerns me is the way $he(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)['ve] fallen off the map. Clearly High Priestess Tahira is covering for $him, but does she know what's going on?]]]]} (if: $chapter >= 2 and $player_defen is 0)[ <table> <tr> <th>Irritability: $irritability%</th> <th>Hair: (if: $player_hair is "natural")[Coily](else:)[(upperfirst: $player_hair)], (upperfirst: $player_colour)</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Compassion: $compassion%</th> <th>Eyes: (upperfirst: $player_eyes)</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Charisma: $charisma%</th> <th>Skin: (upperfirst: $player_complexion)</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Body Type: $player_physique</th> <th>Social Temperament: (upperfirst: $player_outgoing)</th> </tr> </table>](else:)[]

{(if: $route is "s")[Inside the pulsing lights and wet heat of The Grind, there lies an apartment that's messy in a wholly different way than the club. On a modest kitchen counter crowded with newspaper clippings, recipe cards, and an old radio, there lies a time-yellowed notebook which seems full and yet always has space for more. On the front in golden type is the name Maureen. (if: $player_profile is "true")[Velveteen Rabbit Create a Character I've just had a vision, first one in a long time! I told Edith that she was full of baloney for thinking that the selenite rock my nephew brought home for me from Greece was blocking my inner eye. Anyway, the vision: there was a(if: $player_height is "tall")[ tall](elseif: $player_height is "short")[ short](else:)[] person standing by Siruud, with $player_colour hair and $player_eyes eyes. (upperfirst: $he) looked thoughtful, troubled, and had one arm all burnt up and black. Not the most informative vision, as far as visions go: I haven't even seen Siruud in years, but I guess that's about to change. Take that, Edith.] (if: $achieve01 is 1)[Never Wrong Side With Siruud the Devourer I just got home from bridge, and was the gossip mill ever working tonight! And for once it's a good thing that Edith couldn't keep a secret with her lips sewn shut: she said that word on the street was that Siruud had been picked up by SignetWorks at the Overlook! And there was some to do at their offices, police showed up and everything only to be sent away. A broken window, a sudden shift in the dynamics at the company—Gertrude's niece is some kind of hacker and gets a ping or something whenever there's stuff going on, and she apparently told Gertrude that there were internal promotions being fast tracked—and given the vision I had earlier, I think I ought to expect Siruud soon.](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[ Locked Achievement: Story Progress]] (if: $achieve05 is 1)[ In Good Bohemian Style Take the Express Route to the Sidewalk The apartment is more of a mess than usual, with passing evidence of someone very large hitting the ground and taking most of the room with him. A page of the book is ripped out and stuck to the fridge with a magnet that looks like a chicken. EDITH IF YOU'RE SEEING THIS THEN I LEFT WITH SIRUUD TO LOOK FOR (uppercase: $first) !! PUT MY CRYSTALS ON THE WINDOW SILL AND PUT THE KETTLE ON. THANKS. ](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[ Locked Achievement: Story Progress ]] (if: $achieve02 is 1)[ Cult of Personality Have a Strong Personality Score (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You know, of all the things that I expected of $first based on my vision, I didn't expect $him to be so withdrawn. Siruud's his own kind of rainy parade, but I think $first manages to outdo him in sheer simmering anger. I guess I'd be that angry too if I'd been having the kind of week that $he (if: $gender_plural contains $he)[are](elseif: $gender_singular contains $he)[is], but I can't envision what a better mood would look like for $him!](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[What a hoot! Visions don't convey everything, so I wasn't expecting $first to be such a charming little thing. (upperfirst: $he)(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)['re] funny, quick, and seem to let the existential fear of the entire ordeal $he(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)['re] going through roll right off of them. I wonder if it's real, if $he really (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[isn't](else:)[aren't] bothered by the huge twist $his life just took. I think it'd be a little sad if it was all a front.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[How on earth did someone as sweet as $first get involved in all this? I expected a lot of things out of someone who works for SignetWorks, but $first truly took me off guard with how honest and guileless $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[is](else:)[are]. I hope $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[doesn't](else:)[don't] let Siruud step all over them: he isn't used to being thoughtful of other people's feelings, and I'd hate for $first to form $his whole opinion of Siruud based on first impressions. Neither of them deserve that.] Maybe I'll change my mind the more I see of $first, but that doesn't matter so much, I guess. My book always has room for more.](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Locked Achievement: Player Build]]] (elseif: $route is "t")[ Inside the pulsing wet heat of The Grind there lies a little room, a vacuum of sound and sensation where a concerned Council of Fey hold what little Court matters in the modern world. The humans that seek their wisdom and guidance are few now, so they've got the spare time to spend on matters of revenge that make even their courage fail for its ferocity and single-minded determination. Although they're usually of one mind, three sets of hands is more convenient for the moment, and so the task of keeping a record of the latest news falls to Ginger. (if: $player_profile is "true")[Velveteen Rabbit Create a Character. SignetWorks was a bold move, and we all understood that. At first she directed so many humans, sending them out on the most dangerous missions the company had, trying to find an old familiar pattern where none existed: now there's just one. $first, we're told, is a(unless: $player_height is "average")[ $player_height] human with $player_colour hair and $player_eyes eyes. No matter what Tahira asks of $him, $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[delivers](else:)[deliver]. We have a bad feeling about her human that we can't seem to articulate, but it doesn't matter. She wouldn't listen even if we could.] (if: $achieve01 is 1)[Trust Your Gut Side With Tahira. We were right, sort of. We worried that this human would bring misfortune but $he didn't: Tahira brought misfortune to $him. (upperfirst: $he)(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](else:)['re] bound now to Siruud, who Tahira finally found on the Overlook. She needed someone to watch him while her spell had time to work, and so she called on the only person left to her...and now this is happening. Siruud is missing and Tahira wants us to help the human and her. We don't know if we can help her: we don't know if we want to. Something must be done about $first, however.](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[ Locked Achievement: Story Progress ]] (if: $achieve05 is 1)[ In Good Bohemian Style Take the Express Route to the Sidewalk Tahira scries restlessly for $first, but something is blocking her vision. She suspects the culprit is Adrien Bright, as we were unable to see into their office. We haven't had contact with $first for hours, and ~~their phone is~~ There has been a new development—there was another incident at SignetWorks, similar to the night that Siruud escaped. Bright is giving interviews but no one has mentioned $first.](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[ Locked Achievement: Story Progress ]] (if: $achieve02 is 1)[ Cult of Personality Have a Strong Personality Score (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[We were shocked to find that $first is, if not properly informed of $his situation, then at least appropriately resentful of it. (upperfirst: $he) (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[seems](else:)[seem]...angry, deep down. We are not surprised: mortals lives are as such that they should be angry, but so few of them are able to be. There is a tragic helpless fury to $first that we admire.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[We wonder about $first. (upperfirst: $he) (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[seems](else:)[seem]...inappropriately charmed by $his situation, acting with a levity and charisma that belies the existential threat $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](else:)['re] under. (upperfirst: $he) (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[recognises](else:)[recognise] the inherent helplessness of $his position, but does not react how we expected. We will need to watch $him.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[There is a...smallness to $first that we pity. Whether Tahira has earned real loyalty from $him, or if $he (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[respects](else:)[respect] her position in relation to $him, $he clearly (if: $gender_singular contains $he)[wants](else:)[want] to help her with little thought or consideration for $his own position in the story. It is admirable. It is sad. We wonder if Tahira still has it in her to care.] Our opinion of $first is not set in stone. We shall write of any potential changes.](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Locked Achievement: Player Build]]]} {(if: $achieve03 is 1)[ Blaze It Reach Passage 420 ](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Locked Achievement: Story Progress ]] (if: $achieve04 is 1)[Did That Help? Make a ligma joke while being actively murdered. ](else:)[(css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Locked Achievement: Player Choices ]]}

Home, 04:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[You stand in your cramped bathroom, taking in the damage of the evening. The mirror is high on the wall and small (if: $player_height is "tall")[so you can only see from your shoulders to your midback, which gives you plenty to fret about](elseif: $player_height is "average")[so you can only see from your head to your shoulders, which is still a kind of sad amount of damage](elseif: $player_height is "short")[so unless the wounds are on your head, you're not gunna see them in the mirror]. Tahira healed the worst of things, but you take so much magical healing so often that you have to leave some stuff on the table to avoid hardening your body against the beneficial effects. There's bruises up and down your arms and back, and your legs are scraped to hell and sore from the surprise parkour you had to perform (to say nothing of your arms) but all in all you're not dead. That has to count for something, right? Your shift ended about an hour ago after you filled out the paperwork for your immediate promotion to Disciplinary Agent—a rank you hadn't even known existed before Tahira gave it to you—and swung by your favourite local place (beloved in part because you can get food at 3am) for (cycling-link: "shawarma", "dumplings", "pho", "pizza", "tikka masala", "poke", "BBQ", "schnitzel", "kebab", "a tuna melt", "loaded fries", "bahn mi", "pad thai"), the remains of which are piled in the kitchen so a less tired version of yourself can clean it all up.]

At this point you're just being silly. You ate and you complained good-naturedly about your aches and pains (to no one but yourself) and you wandered into the bathroom (if: $player_height is "tall")[to tutt in the mirror about the damage](elseif: $player_height is "average")[to glance at your minor bruises and scrapes](elseif: $player_height is "short")[to pretend like you could even see any damage in the mirror], while ignoring the fact that your arm is spit-roasted up to the elbow. Your arm looks like a marshmallow dropped in the fire with the hard outer sugar layer burned and peeling off. Your dominant hand, the one your kindergarten teacher drew a star on to remind you which hand you coloured with to teach you your lefts and rights, looks like the skin is peeling. It's not, it's just...like this now, flaked and cracked like pictures of cooling lava. The skin above your elbow which is still normal (cycling-link: bind $player_complexion, "pale", "pink", "tan", "tawny", "brown", "black") skin without all the ash crags and peeling strips of burnt wallpaper flesh. Tahira said it was the artifact—the one that exists now on its own outside of the demon itself, both the archdemon and not the archdemon—and the binding burnt onto your skin instead of the wooden box where it was supposed to be. The archdemon is not contained and therefore is somewhere out there, and your arm is probably technically radiating sacred energy. You could sell holy water.

You plod back into your living room and flop onto the couch, throwing a tired arm over your face—the one that isn't all fucked up, which feels awkward because you usually just thoughtlessly use the other one. You should clean up dinner before you go to bed. You should...journal or something about what happened today. You should actually stand up to go to bed and not let yourself fall asleep on the couch. None of them sounds appealing, but part of adulthood is understanding the times when you really can't do something versus the times where you really oughta just shut up and do them. You have to do at least one of them. "Just do it," you murmur to yourself, trying to force your brain to send a message to your legs. The air thickens and you sense something very abruptly mere centimetres from your face. "Do what?" asks a fearfully familiar voice. (link: "Shriek.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Open your eyes.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Clean.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You only just manage not to sit straight up, which is a relief because you know it'll hurt you worse than it hurts Siruud. He doesn't even flinch when you scream, instead grinning in a way that is wildly unsettling. He won't back off either—not that you asked him to, but with humans you'd expect them to take the terror-howl as the implied request. "Get out!" you tell him with a wheeze. He barks out a laugh that seems involuntary and sits back, evidently content that he got the reaction he wanted and ready to watch you struggle to escape your vulnerable position. When you're well enough upright (though no less uncomfortable as he has his elbow resting on your not-short coffee table) he gives you a lingering look.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[You exhale evenly out your nose first, but when Siruud comes into view he either hasn't noticed the thinly veiled resignation or he doesn't care. You honestly can't judge which is more likely, but either way he's pleased with your reaction and grins again. You're surprised and disappointed with yourself when you feel a thrill of fear watching the churning colour of his eyes. "Get the fuck out of my house," you bite out. He tilts his head curiously and blinks with such intent that you flush, and sits back, evidently content that he got the reaction he wanted and ready to watch you struggle to escape your vulnerable position. When you're well enough upright (though no less uncomfortable as he has his elbow resting on your not-short coffee table) he gives you a lingering look.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You don't open your eyes until you feel he's probably good and uncomfortable wondering what he's supposed to do if you leave him hanging; or, until you can imagine that's what he's feeling. They tell you in training that demons don't feel time like mortals, what with the whole immortal-since-the-inception-of-time thing, but you kind of get the feeling that training isn't wholly scientific. He sits back with a brief roll of his eyes and a wry smile, evidently content that he got the reaction he wanted and ready to watch you struggle to escape your vulnerable position. When you're well enough upright (though no less uncomfortable as he has his elbow resting on your not-short coffee table) he gives you a lingering look.] (link: "Is he...checking you out?")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "He's sizing you up...")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Fair enough, you think. It's hardly the weirdest thing that's happened tonight, so sure...why not? The powerful archdemon who failed to kill you earlier tonight glanced at you curiously.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You feel your face go hot but you can't find it in yourself to be annoyed. It was just a glance, and tonight's probably been weird for him too. If anything, you're probably reading too much into it.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You stare him down and he doesn't move, so there's that at least. You find that your rough edges tend to ward off that kind of look, which just means that this archdemon hasn't learned any better yet.] Besides, it's only the real obnoxious fundamentalists that believe anything about "insatiable demonic lust". Demons don't have babies: no such thing as a demon baby, no record of one, and the same group has been present from first recorded history to now. Most people take that to mean that fucking isn't really as urgent of a matter for them as it can be for humans, while others take that to mean that since their fucking has no procreational purpose that it's inherently sinful that some of them probably still do. You, personally, don't care. At this point you'd just like for him to say what he's thinking out loud instead of just looking around at everything like it's the first time he's been in an apartment building.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[Demons have a steady population: there's no such thing as demon babies, and recorded history keeps jotting down the same group of people, which means that a demon this powerful is clever. He's observant. He hasn't survived from the dawn of time until right now by just gawking at shit mindlessly, and you wonder what kind of calculations he can run in his head before you've even begun to understand what he's looking at.] "Can I help you?" you ask, trying to sound calm and cold, like Tahira but probably with more empty takeout boxes piled in the kitchen. "Would I be here if you had done anything even remotely helpful this evening?" he returns pleasantly, watching you like one does a rowdy puppy. You slouch defensively. "Honestly, I was so focused on escaping the bind before you hauled my artifact out of the office that I never even considered the possibility you would willingly bind yourself to me." Oh god. Did you trick him into thinking you did this on purpose?

Maybe the mistake he thought you made was hubris, rather than...damn it, are you obligated to correct him now? He blinks at you slowly, which you only note due to the rush of relief that it gives you for all of a millisecond from his eyes boring into you. "What are you thinking?" he asks, like you're just gunna tell him. (if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You keep your eyes on him carefully, trying to school your expression into something...approaching neutrality. "Nothing," you tell him firmly, flexing your hands and feeling your magic pulse through your fingers. Evidently he does too and tilts his head, his focus shifting.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Just wondering if they make demon-proof locks," you say blithely, uncertain as to how you're going to hold yourself to tell him that you're not afraid of him but you also are just afraid enough that he should be flattered. Your magic ripples in response to your uncertainty, and his eyes focus sharply.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You sit back, trying to make your body language as loose and indifferent as possible; you won't be giving him the satisfaction of knowing how unsettled he makes you. "None of your business," you rebuke sharply, your magic releasing a quick and involuntary pulse through your body. His attention sharply refocuses.] "Are you keeping secrets?" he hums, then he's suddenly behind you and hardly an inch from the back of your neck. (link: "\"Personal space!\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Shiver.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[It's a combination of his sudden movement and the proximity, and you're really not feeling either. You haven't lived this long to start letting wildly powerful demons have free reign of your bubble, and so it is with a very firm expression that you sharply gesture for him to return to where he was. To your surprise, he does.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[Very close, very big, very pretty in a beastly sort of way...you can't even rustle up some sort of modest protest because the proximity has knocked all the words right out of you. He's warm, you note faintly, annoyed that it's your most coherent thought of the moment. You feel him grin.] "I forget myself; humans are so skittish," he says faintly. You nod, unwilling to belabor the topic; best he just says his piece. "What I meant was magic—for a moment there I could taste it on you." (if: $player_magic is "flame")[(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["And what exactly does fire taste like? Barbeque? Charcoal? Campfire?" The mental image of Siruud the Devourer earning his name in a hotdog eating contest ripples in your mind and you bite your lip before the laugh can escape. "You either have no real experience with anything hotter than a matchstick, or you give yourself too little credit," he says shortly, for all the world looking at your hand like he wants to grab it; kind of like a seven foot tall cat looking at the point of a laser.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Oh." You can't think of anything better to say because, well...what could fire magic possibly taste like? "Sorry, for the uh...ashes," you add as an afterthought, because in all likelihood it's a big mouthful of fireplace.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You sneer, because he says it in just such a way that it feels all...close and personal, just to throw you off your game. "Would have thought a demon wouldn't mind a mouthful of ashes," you say before you can stop yourself.] "You either have no real experience with anything hotter than a matchstick, or you give yourself too little credit," he says shortly, for all the world looking at your hand like he wants to grab it; kind of like a seven foot tall cat looking at the point of a laser.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Mind the brain freeze," you caution, trying very hard not to imagine the seven foot tall archdemon getting his tongue stuck to a fence. Could that even happen to demons who run hot? You'd love to find out.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Oh," you say, sort of surprised. "Hopefully ice cream instead of frozen pennies or something." You're not sure how you feel about the tasting in general, but there's plenty of cold things that aren't wholly unpleasant.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["Too bad it didn't freeze your jaw shut," you reply instinctively, not sure if it was a particularly wise thought. Awkwardly, you try to play it off. "I'd probably need a little more than a blizzard to do that though."] "You're thinking too small," he scolds. "I would hardly have noted it if it were only that intense." His eyes are glued still to your hand, looking sort of like a cat getting ready to pounce. You can't help but look as well, because while you have the gift for sure, no one had ever given you the impression it was particularly powerful.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[(if: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Oh that must be...terrible," you say, putting your arm down like that will stop it. There are a million ways for it to be bad, because there are a million ways to be poisoned and there's never been a positive poisoning. Demons probably don't have a lot of experience with that sort of death but at the very least? Yuck.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You snort before you can stop yourself, because wow. "Talk about a bad taste in your mouth." You wonder what particular flavour you're bringing to the table: plague? Common cold? Vermin poison? Bug spray? People tend to really underestimate how broad the poison category can really be.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["Then choke," you respond instinctively, then wince. He laughs at your reaction, clearly unbothered by whatever toxin rolling around in his mouth. You didn't actually cast anything so he's in no danger of anything but discomfort...and do demons even...can they be made uncomfortable like you can?] He tilts his head, a motion felt as much as you see it. "I think your power is greater than you know," he says absently, not clarifying the statement; not that you ask him to. That's kind of ominous, coming from him; especially as he's now watching you like a cat watches the end of a laser.] You're just starting to tense up, trying to anticipate the pounce, when his eyes flutter up to yours and he grins. "That look again; you may as well just tell me when I unsettle you."

(if: $_temp is 1)[His form ripples and adjusts so it's in front of you again, which is better from a safety perspective but less so from the angle of your dignity. You try to fix whatever look is on your face that he's reading so clearly, and you obviously fail because his expression remains the same. It's not quite a smile, you think, so much as the baring of teeth.](else:)[You aren't sure what face you're making that's exposing you like this, but if you try to stop then no doubt he'll only see that too. What does he expect, though—even someone who didn't know anything about demons would take one look at the vague baring of teeth he's passing off as a smile and know something was amiss.] "I'm diverting from our purpose though; unbind me." He taps his hand on the table, looking at you like it's all a business proposal. This is it. This is how the demon finds out you ruined his day because he was difficult to carry and you weren't wholly convinced he wasn't encased in office supplies. (link: "\"No.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"It's not that simple.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"...about that...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You can't tell him that this was a stupid accident. You cannot admit to the face of this tall demon man that you have no idea how to unbind the two of you because it was completely unintentional. "I'm no priestess," you're quick to clarify, so it doesn't also sound like you're attached to the concept. "So this is your noble sacrifice?" he asks, the charm wavering. "Yeah," you grunt.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[It really is; the pure and simple truth is that you put the bracelet on for transport purposes and you shouldn't have done that because the bindings weren't destroyed when you did it. You panicked, you did what made the most sense at the time; it just ended up stupid and now you don't know how to fix it. "I'm willing to take complex action to undo this," he says coolly. "Well..." The walls are closing in.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You stop because...well, that's it. That's all you got. What are you gunna do, tell him that you accidentally ruined everything because you tried to carry him to the door seven times and failed each attempt? You bound yourself to an archdemon, because it didn't occur to you that you could carry the pen caps in one hand and the bracelet in the other? God, the pen caps.] His face folds into an irritated scowl, and your hands clench unconsciously in concern for your person. You faintly remember that he tried to kill you before which didn't quite work; hopefully that persists. "There's something you aren't telling me, mortal," he accuses, turning to you with a suddenness that has you reaching for the baseball bat that you'd usually stash under the couch but you didn't tonight because you were so burned out on work. "I have a name," you say, mostly to divert from the fact that he is absolutely right. He quirks an eyebrow, staring at you flatly. "$first." You leave off the surname for now; you don't know what kind of census records the demon has access to, but all you need is to hand him your full name alongside your exact image.

"I'd like to say it's been wonderful to meet you, $first, but it's been a nightmare. The best I can say for your company is that you have an absolutely diverting face—," you don't know if that's a compliment, "—but so do a lot of people. Unbind me." "I...can't." "Remove morality from the argument—" "Okay first off, no. Secondly, if I could get you off my arm, I would." What an absurd thing to say, take morality out of it. Stupid. It's such an annoying concept given Sanctum City as a whole that you don't even notice Siruud stiffen up, looking at you with suspicion and bafflement. He tilts his head forward, eyes narrowed. "So you are literally unable." You nod, attempting to look at him as unflinchingly as he looks at you. "Because you are not the witch who cast it?" Wouldn't that have been a convenient excuse? Unfortunately it's too easily disproven, because you're not even sure what a witch does day to day let alone how they do it. Plus it'd be throwing Tahira under the bus. "I can't unbind us because I didn't mean to do it in the first place. I was trying to carry the bracelet," you explain. You watch as several things click in his head; he puts it all together with his eyes, which slide down to you. He looks like he desperately wants to be glaring, but can't quite land it. "You were particularly insistent on keeping me with the pen caps," he says slowly. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Focus on moving forward," you huff quickly. "Trying to dissect what happened isn't helpful right now."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I was a little preoccupied with the archdemon that broke free of his bindings!" you snap defensively. "I wasn't at my best."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Gotta say, I liked the pen caps better," you say, demonstratively holding up your fucked up arm with his ugly ass bracelet on it.]

"That's not important right now," you add, because it isn't which has nothing to do with how you don't want to talk about the pen caps anymore. "I can't get you off my arm but someone has to know how to do it." Tahira told you to be patient while she researched it, but Siruud's as old as time, right? Maybe he sees this all the time; granted, his first instinct was to murder his ugly jewellery off of you, but he also admitted that it was just what he assumed would work the fastest. He drums his fingers on the table, casting you a look that promises he will not forget the most embarrassing moment of your life so far, then shakes his head. "Care to guess how frequently mortals willingly bind us to them?" he asks. "If our lore is accurate? On a near constant basis." In fact, civilization would have no ghost, demon, or fairy stories if humans were not incessantly striking deals and selling their souls. By the way he inclines his head he concedes the point. "How do those stories end, though? Death for one party or another, or fulfillment of a contract. We've made no deal and have established that death is not an option." As an afterthought, he adds, "By each other's hand, anyway." (link: "\"Thanks for that, by the way.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"And why do we know that, hmm?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"We don't know that it goes both ways.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You make flat eye contact and he bares his teeth again. "If not for my dedication to discovery, we'd only be at square one and each expecting the other to attempt murder." You roll your eyes. "And aren't I relieved?" You don't mention that this leaves the possibility of third-party murder wide open, for your own safety. You're certainly not going to find some sort of archdemon hunter—one that isn't you—to whack the guy.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[He smiles flatly, clearly impatient. "And you're welcome, else we'd still be at square one and each expecting the other to murder us." You don't point out that your fear would be just a little but more valid, all things considered. "Truly, I'm honoured by your dedication to starting our partnership off with such a successful trust exercise." There's no use reminding him that at this point, third-party assassination is definitely still on the table. You're already the person who's supposed to possess the abilities needed to kill him; he can just hire any idiot.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[He snorts at your gall but, you note, doesn't immediately offer his throat in confidence. "A little mystery keeps a partnership exciting, doesn't it?" he asks, ignoring the look you fix him with. You neglect to mention that third-party murder is still a possibility. That won't work out well for you, who has no one besides yourself to look to. He must see the dissatisfaction on your face.] "Well go on then, if it'll put your mind at ease," he says with a fond shake of his head, like you're asking him to check under your bed for monsters instead of having pointed out that he did attempt to kill you, a favour which you had not returned. (link: "\"Are you insane?!\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Stand before he can change his mind.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["What are you talking about?" You're going to feel stupid if he wasn't just offering to let you try to kill him, but if he really jumped right there from your comments then you'll feel worse. It's your job, yeah, but right now you're not getting paid and he isn't really...doing anything to warrant your particular "hired mercenary" special. "I'm only suggesting that if you would feel better if our attempted murder counts were more equal, I am willing to allow you to try." He actually looks surprised that you're not jumping on this opportunity. "Don't misunderstand me, I don't think you'll be able to kill me from a moral standpoint, forgetting our strange arrangement that protects you and presumably myself." "What you're suggesting is..." you shake your head a few times, baffled and a little offended that you've somehow given him the impression you're down for casual murder. He assumes you can't, of course, but he still suggested it like you'd try. "No. Absolutely not." He lets his gaze drift up and down you again, as if he'd missed on first inspection the big sign you had hanging on you that says DOES NOT KILL WANTONLY. "Fine. An odd place to draw the line for a demon hunter, but as you wish." (if: $player_origin is "stupid")["The demons I hunt need to be neutralized," you say, trying not to feel stupid about it. "Do they?" he asks disinterestly. "Fascinating."](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")["The demons I hunt are usually trying to kill me," you remind him, and he snorts derisively. "Yes, I wonder why?"](elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")["I don't do it for kicks you know," you snap, and he rolls his eyes. "A great comfort to the people you've archived, I'm sure."]](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You dart past him, escaping the warmth of your living room for the cold tile of your kitchen. You try to listen for him, to catch if he moves or not; not that it matters as he's demonstrated his ability to rematerialize at will and his inability to cause you physical harm, but instincts are how you stay alive. He really stays still, though, letting you return to stand on your blanket (the only real way to gain a height advantage on him). You don't know why this would work, unless Tahira had slipped a clause in the bindings that prevented only the demon from causing harm to the vessel he was trapped in; it's your responsibility to try, though, so try you will. It unnerves you, though, that he looks up and makes eye contact. His eyes burn, which is the only indication you receive that you've let yourself make eye contact with him. The urgent colour of them makes your cursed arm warm faintly in acknowledgement, though you don't get the sense he's consciously influencing you with his round, serious eyes. You reach out with your weapon—in your haste, you grabbed a stupid bread knife instead of literally any other knife in your collection. "Do it," he says, without particular inflection. "I...can't." You hardly breathe the words but it feels like a great weight has been lifted off the moment they slip out. You won't kill him like this, and you don't know why you thought you could. Binding protection or no—and you didn't apply nearly enough pressure to test that particular theory—Siruud is safe from you until he steps out of line.] That doesn't solve your problems, though.

"I knew you couldn't," he says with a faintly triumphant grin. "I'm glad I can't," you return shortly. With that whole farce over with, it returns you to the problem at hand: the two of you are stuck together until further notice. You can't allow his freedom and neither can he tolerate being bound. "Your witch, the one that bound me...she can do nothing either?" he asks, knowing full well that if it was an option you would have gone to her first. You shake your head, letting yourself get comfortable again. "She's looking into it. In the meantime we should try to...find out what our limits are," you suggest, (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[because it sounds like the sorts of things people do in situations like this](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[because you don't want to end up accidentally hurting yourself and him just by being incurious](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[because you'd love to see if you get any advantages out of being bound to him: or at least if he has any disadvantages]. "Well, I can only move so far away from you before I'm obligated to stop," he says, the bitter twist of his mouth telling you that he's already tried the escape method. "That's characteristic of being bound to an external object." "Person," you correct, knowing full well that he's going to ignore you. "As far as any other consequences," he continues, ignoring you, "maybe I know someone, a seer of sorts. She may not be able to help us but if anyone in the world has seen our issue before..." He trails off and looks to you for your reaction. "So you want me to follow you into the city to find an off-the-grid witch?" you ask, the implications of that settling heavily on your chest. If Tahira finds out you started working with the demon she'll kill you; if HQ finds out, you'll be fired if not tried. This, however, is the only way to keep Siruud nearby; he definitely won't work within the bounds of the institution designed to shatter and imprison demons. He nods shortly, and you have a decisions to make. Help Siruud and shut out SignetWorks, or help Tahira and lose the archdemon's support? {(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[ (link: "\"Think I'll stick with the priestess on this one.\" [🌸]")[(set: $route_name to "Tahira")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Shit, shit...fine, okay! Let's do this.\" [😈]")[(set: $route_name to "Siruud")(goto: $nextpassage)]] (elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[ (link: "\"I think the fuck not.\" [🌸]")[(set: $route_name to "Tahira")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You'd better be worth it.\" [😈]")[(set: $route_name to "Siruud")(goto: $nextpassage)]] (elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[ (link: "\"I'm sorry, but I can\'t.\" [🌸]")[(set: $route_name to "Tahira")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I-I...okay, yes. I'll help you.\" [😈]")[(set: $route_name to "Siruud")(goto: $nextpassage)]]}

{(set: $achieve01 to 1) (if: $route_name is "Siruud")[This is going to be so, so bad, but you have to work with him. This whole situation concerns you and him and it isn't fair to lock him out just because you're waiting for him to do something wrong. Granted, you don't know what he did that Tahira was trying to bind him in the first place, but...frankly, a lot of the time no one has to do much to get shattered into their base artifact. "In that case"," he says, a slow grin spreading across his face. "We're off to see (link: "The Crone.\"")[(set: $route to "s")(goto: "trans")] (css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Achievement Unlocked: Never Wrong]] (elseif: $route_name is "Tahira")[His face falls only briefly before it tightens in annoyance. "If your helpless mortal plodding happens to turn up anything useful, do let me know," he bites out from between gritted teeth, and then just as quickly as he had been there in front of you, he isn't. And you have to (link: "text Tahira.")[(set: $route to "t")(goto: "trans")] (css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Achievement Unlocked: Trust Your Gut]]}

The Grind, 0:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[It's raining again, and you're starting to think it's a metaphor or an omen or something. Siruud insisted that you go to bed before any further shenanigans— I know nothing about mortals except that they're useless to me tired— so you don't know if the rain stopped at some point, but it hardly matters because the second you got in line to get into the nightclub where the Crone works the stupid sky broke open and started spitting just enough that you're damp. Siruud seems unbothered in his human form; one of them, you're told. He's been a roughly thirty year old east asian man since breakfast, still tall though not enough for people to give him another look. He's got a thick, muscular body with tattoos of flowers wrapped around his biceps and up above his ears which you thought was a darling little touch, but he'd dismissed you. What do you know about shaping multiple forms? Despite his kneejerk defensiveness, you weren't really teasing him. They're nice tattoos, and he's still handsome in a rougher kind of way; there's a certain ethereal quality to him in his true form that he substitutes for rugged earthiness in this one, whom you're told is named John Park. You'd asked if you got an alias too, but he's cast you a look and said that he'd only allow it if you were also constantly at risk of being hunted by Retrieval Officers. One had actually stopped you to say hello and congratulate you on your promotion.]

But by now you've been in line for about an hour and the glow of the real and familiar world of SignetWorks is gone. Everyone else in line is something. They're not all demons, but you get the distinct sense that when people look at you, then at Mr. Park, they assume some things; and none of those things mean anything flattering about you, the clear mortal. Humans serve a particular purpose in this world: you probably look a little too casual and a little less kinky than they're used to. "I can see what you're thinking," Siruud admonishes without taking the cigarette from his mouth. It'd only taken one harsh side-eye from you for him to irritably assure you he had no plans to light it. "Mortals come and go all the time. Don't make it weird." (link: "\"I wasn't thinking anything.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Can you see what I'm thinking now?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You don't know me.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[He gives you a look that says he doesn't believe you, but he doesn't argue and so you don't waste your energy doing so either. You still can't be wholly sure he won't abandon you to some creature assassin once the two of you get inside.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[Nosy, sneaky demon. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't respond, which you take for your own victory. Nosy, sneaky demon can't get in my head.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[He inclines his head as if to agree, but doesn't offer you the meagre satisfaction of acknowledging that he was just fishing for a reaction from you. You don't press him for it, because you're well aware he's not interested in being more than basically civil.] "Regardless, you're worried about nothing. They have more to fear from you." (if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[Your face goes hot and you suddenly feel more conspicuous than you did before. "I'm here to help you," you remind him, and he shrugs. "What does that matter to them?"](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Your mouth twitches into a smile involuntarily. "I wouldn't be worried if I were them. I've been getting my ass kicked lately." "I'll be sure to inform them."](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You snort hoarsely, hunkering down to try and make yourself (if: $player_height is "tall")[smaller, to little avail](elseif: $player_height is "average")[smaller, which only ends up looking weird](elseif: $player_height is "short")[somehow even smaller]. "I don't think anyone feels very threatened by me," you inform him shortly, and he shrugs. "I'm certainly not."]

He lets the discussion lapse and you both slip into an uneasy silence. The people lined up around you talk in low voices to try and avoid being overheard, saturating the whole crowd with the sticky energy that you and Siruud are bringing. "I haven't been to a club since I got hired," you say impulsively, to fill the silence. "Fascinating." (if: $player_past is "bouncer")["I used to work the door," you tell him, leaning out to try and see who's working here. There's enough glamour going on in the line that even ten feet up the road is blurry and indistinct, like a mirage. "It was pretty boring, though. Not like this."](else:)["Once I got put on night shift, it kind of killed my social life," you admit. "I'm functionally nocturnal now: not that I ever went to places like this." "And what do you mean by like this?" he asks, sounding bored. "I don't know. Everywhere I went was kind of boring."] "This isn't boring to you?" he asks, and you shrug, letting the silence seep back in. (link: "\"Are you from Sanctum City?\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Stay quiet.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[You look at him sidelong as you ask and watch him sigh in preparation. "I was created before linear time," he reminds you flatly. "Do you like it here?" "Does anyone?" It's not a real answer nor a significant statement: the quintessentially perfect settlement doesn't exist, so much as places that one is from sinking roots into them. "Why do you stay then?" you push, and he laughs humourlessly. "Besides my charming new mobile home?" He looks pointedly at your fucked up hand, currently hidden from view under a heavy sweater and a work glove (which makes you look bizarre, but maybe less bizarre than someone with a bound arm). "Trust me, if I could leave this place I would. I was trying to when I was attacked by that witch." You're trying to decide whether or not to ask him about why he came here in the first place, but what he says makes your head snap up. "The witch? Like, the one in the office?" "The same," he says with a nod, and you look down thoughtfully. Tahira refused to tell you who had brought in the artifact, but it'd been her? "Why?" "Just...trying to put together a timeline in my head." You're still not sure if you want to share details about Tahira with him: at worst you're throwing her in the path of a potentially angry demon, and if that wasn't enough to deter you then you would also have to face SignetWorks on your own if you lost her in your corner...if she's in your corner. "What's your favourite food?" you ask, mostly to distract from your pensiveness. "Really?" he asks, exasperated, and you nod. "Rice." "Just rice?" "There is no such thing as just rice. It's flexible and dynamic and no matter where I am in the world, I can usually find it. Now," he guides you in front of him, squaring your shoulders straight ahead, "stop bothering me."](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You heave a quiet sort of sigh, shifting around uncomfortably. You're still damp and still impatient and while the line moving along, it isn't doing it fast enough to solve any of your problems. "Did I accidentally find your off button?" Siruud asks, eyeing you curiously. "Yeah, but hitting it twice just boots the whole thing right back up." You haven't found yourself to be particularly chatty tonight, unless you've been stress-babbling; have you been stress-babbling? You can't remember. The idea upsets you for a few seconds, but he rolls his eyes and you feel a little better, honestly. "Well if you're going to talk it may as well entertain me. Tell me about yourself." He says it like a command, in such a snooty sort of way that you almost laugh. "Why do you hunt demons?" (if: $player_origin is "desperate")["Money," you answer shortly. You know it shouldn't be embarrassing that you were having a hard time and reaching for whatever would fix your finances, but there's residual shame that still lives in your ribs.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")["I wanted to feel like I was doing something important," you admit. It's humiliating to remember the shameful desperation you felt, especially considering where it led you: you're not better off, you're just more alone now than you've ever been.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")["I was scared," you grit out from between your teeth, the very memory of being manipulated to this place like pulling teeth. "They told me that the Infernal wanted to hurt us, and I believed them."] "Are you scared?" (if: $player_origin is "stupid")["Still? Of you? Right now?"](else:)["Right now? Of you, of being here? Of spiders, of death?"] "Yes." "No." It's mostly true. You're scared of things but at this point you're really involved in this particular thing. It'd take too long to be scared and besides, Siruud doesn't seem physically capable of hurting you let alone interested (anymore; you've moved past it, a little).]

After that, he seems content with silence again. You peer towards the front where a big group get in all at once, putting you perilously close to the entrance. "So, the Crone..." "Crone is sort of like the Devourer. It's technically part of the name, but I would wait for an introduction." "You never introduced yourself to me." He smiles as the people in front of you get in, reaching out to quickly take your hand and turn it to kiss your knuckles. "John Park," he reminds you with a golden wink. Hoo boy.

He lets your hand go and focuses on the line as it shrinks in front of you. You shrink back, feeling (cycling-link: "flustered", "awkward", "silly", "on edge", "wired"): that was charming. He isn't not charming, but what for? What's his angle? He could be trying to ingratiate himself with you, but you already told him you'd help him so why bother? Maybe the unslakable lust was real after all and this was some long con...(if: $player_origin is "stupid")[would that be bad? Is that technically bad, because you've been working on what enormous chunks of your knowledge have been propaganda and which were meant in earnest but just wrong and which were both...but who cares if he wants to fuck a lot? He's not being overbearing or rude...just kind of charming, when he remembers to be, in between calling you mortal.](else:)[like, you know, the long con where anyone with the capacity to be horny would naturally seek to remedy that situation. His liking or pursuing sex isn't more suspect because there's entire media empires dedicated to freaking out about it, but that doesn't answer what the hell he's doing here with you being...flirty.] That's what you're stuck on: where do you come in? You told him yourself that your night life shrivelled up and died the second you got put on the night shift, so the idea of someone flirting with you for fun and recreation is...strange, like the split second where you see yourself in a mirror but don't realise that it's you. People flirt for fun. Sometimes people just say charming things without any intentionality at all.

"Keep (if: $he is "it")[that](else:)[it] on a leash," the bouncer grunts at John Park. Siruud doesn't respond and you (cycling-link: "keep your eyes glued to the asphalt", "glare mutinously at the asshole", "smile charmingly and offer a little wave"). Everyone ignores you, but the rope parts and the two of you sink into the smoky darkness of The Grind. The inside of the club is like watching one of those awful, chaotic videos that bots make for kids with bright colours and loud noises, from inside a cocoon. The lights are muted and so old and dim as to seem red even though they're probably just the original warm-tone overheads. It's not easy to see as Siruud guides you past lolling creatures, finally dispensed of their glamour and crowding the already fairly narrow hall in all their multi-limbed, furry, winged, clawed glory. It's not just Infernals, but Fey, cryptids, monsters, and mythos: the sorts of people you're not supposed to touch, because what's scary to some idiot in a skyscraper in the heart of Sanctum City is a religious leader to a group on the other side of town. This is just the hallway though: when the two of you step out into an actual room, with the DJ posted high up in the centre, so focused as to look a little bored, the whole palate of the room changes. Your ribs tremble along to the heavy bass shaking the walls; it doesn't even seem to be a song, just a primal beat being railed through your body. Colours and lights fluctuate and change too quickly for you to perceive, which keeps you safe from any negative physical effects but does disorient you as your surroundings are constantly changing but you can't see it happening. You reach out blindly for Siruud through the crush and flood of writhing bodies packed together like a bag full of gummy bears. He seems surprised to feel your hand on his wrist, but pulls you close enough that he's at least one of the damp, warm bodies you're flush against. "The Crone's just this way," he says, his regular speaking voice ringing through your head. Convenient. (link: "\"I—I can't do this. I can't—I'm gunna be sick.\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(set: $player_outgoing to "ambivalent")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Wordlessly indicate that you need the room to stop.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(set: $player_outgoing to "introvert")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"This is incredible!\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(set: $player_outgoing to "extrovert")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[He frowns—you can't tell if he heard you and he's annoyed, or if he's just reading your rapidly stiffening body language and understanding that you've hit a brick wall. He takes your wrist firmly and guides you to a wall, pulling you along it until the two of you come to a set of push doors. He throws them open confidently and pulls you in, baring his teeth—his teeth, his disguise dropped in short order—sharply to what seems to be a pair of satyrs. "Out," he orders, and the two bleat out a curse but otherwise obey, leaving the two of you alone. "Tell me what the issue is," he commands imperiously, which seems to be a default tone for him. You press your lips together tightly, unsure if you can convey to him exactly what just happened. Something inside your brain started pounding the flee button, not because of any danger but...overstimulation. "I-I can't," you grit out, shaking your head. "Listen to me, $first," he orders you, his eyes abruptly glowing like a warm fire. You feel your shoulders soften, then stiffen—he's using a spell. "Don't," you snap, and he drops the effect immediately. "I was trying to help," he says, and you scowl but he holds up his hand. "It was an attempt to help, and it failed. I was not correcting you: I apologise. I thought you would be more comfortable if you calmed down." "No magic without my permission," you tell him, and he nods. You don't know what spell he was attempting, but you have to guess that it wasn't harmful because he technically can't hurt you. "May I have your permission, then?" he asks. (link: "Nod, shortly.")[(set: $_temp2 to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Shake your head urgently.")[(set: $_temp2 to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]](elseif: $_temp is 1)[He raises an eyebrow at you, maybe just surprised that you're leaning in and chatting with him about the place you were at least fifty percent sure was gunna kill you outside. This is different, though—this is a taste of life, of intoxicating realness that you've been lacking ever since you got yourself a steady job. You've held yourself so far apart from fun that here and now, where it's pushing up against you and forcing you to bump into the back of Siruud. His disguise has been dropped in the safety of the club and the partiers part for him like he's anti-magnetic—he cuts through them like a shark, hardly pausing on the possibility that maybe someone wouldn't notice him. You envy that confidence. You've been a genuine demonslayer for what feels like forever now, but it never feels cool. You never feel like Blade or Buffy so much as you feel like some dumb fuck scrabbling to cling to the edge of the building to avoid falling two stories and breaking your ribs in three places. You're drunk on the power of his form, and the utter indifference that he wields it with. (link: "You can't lie: it's pretty hot.")[(set: $_temp2 to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You want to be him.")[(set: $_temp2 to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_temp is 0)[(if: $_temp2 is 0)[He gently slides his hand back along your jaw, the other joining on the other side to hold your head still and steady. His eyes are soft and warm again, like a bath filling with hot water. "You stopped earlier: was it because you felt malicious magic?" he asked, and you shake your head. "Then why?" You blink, slow and languid like you've never rushed for anything in your life. "The light and the noise was too much. I couldn't think," you tell him, and don't even feel the rush of embarrassment that it would usually give you to tell another adult—one relying on you to help him—that you just freaked out because you just do, sometimes. "H'm. That's easily handled," he says dismissively, still making steady eye contact. You nod drowsily, and he sneers. "So this is the trick to make you quiet, hm?" You think he's trying to be friendly, or at least civil—he just kind of sucks at it. The noise quietly fades into nothing along with your tension. Your deep exhale puts you in a sort of floating state, and Siruud nods. "There we go." The spell slips off of you like a robe tied too loose, and you startle but don't tense up. He holds out a hand to help you down, and you realise that he'd lifted you up on the countertop. For a free miasmic hit of alprazolam, you think you're okay with being moved around like a pepper shaker for a little while. "Thank-you," you remember to say and he shakes his head.](elseif: $_temp2 is 1)["I just need a minute," you tell him, unsettled by the idea of him thoughtlessly trying to put you under a spell. "I'll be fine." "Were you being attacked?" he asked, and you frown. "Did you sense malicious magic?" he clarifies, and you shake your head. "No, it's just...it was overwhelming, for a second." Your gut curdles with embarrassment to admit it, to someone who's waiting for you to be helpful no less, but he doesn't really react to the admission. He leans over to examine himself in the mirror like you hadn't said anything at all. "Stay alert, then: it's not impossible that someone might try something foolish." You assume he means that you're vulnerable to magic attacks, although it sounds more like he's tugging his own chain a little bit. "Sorry," you say, because that's what you're meant to say to someone when you're inconveniencing them or making them think that you've just undergone some sort of psychic attack. "For what?" He runs his thumb along his eyebrow and you feel yourself start to centre. "Focus on settling down."]](elseif: $_temp is 1)[(if: $_temp2 is 0)[(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You're not dead yet, despite the universe's best attempts on your life, and so it's not beyond you to be aware that he's attractive.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You're embarrassed to admit it, but at the very core of all the relationship politics between you, he is undeniably attractive.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[Like thunderstorms, hungry predators, scary movies, and that adrenaline rush you feel when you fall, there's something inherently and hypnotically fascinating about Siruud.]](elseif: $_temp2 is 1)[(if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[He seems so utterly unselfconscious, almost to the point of unawareness. You're too deep within yourself, too bound to your own form...what he has feels impossible for you.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You want to crawl into his skin, to understand what's inside of him that isn't inside of you—the urge to bite and claw at him to satisfy yourself is almost overwhelming.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You squint thoughtfully and try to mirror his body language: shoulders back, head up, always looking around but never focusing on anyone in particular. You...just kind of feel like you're walking funny.]] He turns over his shoulder to check on you, his eyes glowing in the dark. "Keep up," he orders, his voice echoing through your head to circumvent the noise. You do, which has nothing to do with his tone.] Back out into the boiling crowd, now with Siruud's arm guiding you at the small of your back, he seems a little bit urgent. He ushers you past some passingly curious creatures until the two of you are standing in front of a plain-looking door with a fancy, engraved wooden sign saying it's in your best interest to knock. (link: "Knock.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Wait for Siruud to do something.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Go in.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You do so before Siruud can, self-conscious about how little you have the power to do in this space. At the very least you can follow instructions, and try not to let on how you're suddenly nervous. You don't know the Crone, you've never heard of her, so on top of the ancient archdemon now you have a witch you'll also presumably be keeping secret from the witch you're supposed to be working with but have so far only sent an apologetic text, promising her leads.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You eye him anxiously, looking between him and the sign like you've forgotten how to read. You just...don't want to be the one to do it. The Crone is going to be another secret you're keeping, and after your hasty text to Tahira that you're following leads...you're not sure how much weight this web of lies can hold. This won't absolve you of the secret, but at least you won't seem gleeful.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[You reach for the doorknob but Siruud slaps your hand away with a roll of his eyes. "Behave," he says sharply, and knocks on the door; you roll your eyes because you don't have time for this illusion of mystery. In case he forgot, you're the one whose whole life is hanging on by a few hasty texts to Tahira promising her a full report later (that you don't really plan to give).] The two of you stay standing, contained in a bubble of anticipation; he doesn't look impatient which seems uncharacteristic. It's nerve wracking; who can make a demon wait? The door creaks open and two drooping brown eyes squint out at you from the darkness. Siruud straightens and the expression behind the eyes relaxes. "Well look who it is! Say something next time, can't you use a phone?"

"You know I can't," he returns fondly. The door swings open and you're shuffled inside, your attention far too arrested by your surroundings to get a good look at the Crone. Although the space seems too big to fit neatly into the back of a club, neither was it particularly large, and the impression made smaller by the vibrantly patterned but dark-coloured wallpaper covered in birds and butterflies that you're sure are moving even though when you focus on one it sits still. The wood floor is a warm brown and worn from what seems like a thousand boots moving in and out of the hall, and every spare space is crowded with things. A bowl of carefully cleaned bones sits precariously on a small dining room table covered in old newspapers and bundles and dried flowers, books of every thickness and topic are stacked on chairs, pushed into corners, and jammed under tables for quick access. Vines grow up thin wooden pillars set between half-walls that lead into a kitchen filled with the smell of fresh bread and bubbling broth—a kitchen decked out with kitschy turquoise appliances and domestic-pink dishes. "You look a little shocked, sweetheart," the Crone says at your elbow, and you start and finally turn to her. She's a short woman with wispy, curled red-blonde-grey hair and heavy, sagging brown eyes. Her accent is windingly metropolitan, with distinct long vowels and dropped consonants. "A witch's house is always busy, you know." (link: "\"No kidding.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Busy's one word for it.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"It's very cosy!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

She smiles in a way that adults do when kids say things—that is, to indicate that she was barely listening—and turns to look behind you at Siruud. He seems comfortable in the space, but somehow still ill-at-ease: he watches the wallpaper like you did before you realised the birds were fucking with you. "So, what brings my tall hunk of rock in here today? Last time you came you didn't have a cute little sidekick, and you made it pretty clear you were leaving the city." "An attempt was made," he assures her, urging you forward so that he can sit in the small living room. The couch has a yellow and pink flower pattern, constantly blooming and wilting, and the small carved dark-wood coffee table looks cartoonishly small as Siruud drops next to it. "This is $first, the product of my attempt." "Now what in the world could he mean by that?" she asks, then turns back to you and gestures for you to sit next to the demon while she occupies a big blue-and-green plaid easy chair. "I'm Maureen, dear: the Crone." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You nod shortly and watch her carefully: witches are often portrayed in contrast to priestesses as employed by SignetWorks, which means very little except for this is a person that knows and is presumably at the very least invested in Siruud: not you.](else-if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You smile politely and nod your head, your eyes still irresistably drawn around the room. The longer you look the more there is, and you bite back asking her how you get a place like this of your own: the rent's probably great on liminal spaces.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You smile and nod, your hands twitching restlessly in your lap. Siruud took you to someone he knows, someone who's presumably loyal to him rather than you. You don't know your place here, and are afraid to find it.] "The two of you look hungry." "Maureen," Siruud says flatly, and she rolls her eyes. "You're always hungry, and this one looks too skinny." (cycling-link: bind $player_physique, "That's objectively not true", "Not something you're usually accused of", "You've heard that one before"), but you're not not hungry. "Have some dumplings while you tell me where you picked up a human." And then there's some fat little fried tortellinis on the table. Everyone's got cool and useful magic except you, who can just (if: $player_magic is "flame")[get rid of junk mail faster than usual](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[accidentally break a bunch of glass trying to cool down your drink] (elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[give yourself a bad case of the stomach flu by accident].

You glance at Siruud who isn't reaching out to start grabbing food, and wonder if it'd be weird for you to do it yourself. Just take one you big gargoyle, I'm starving, you think malevolently, and he rolls his eyes and reaches out to jam a dumpling in his mouth. (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Well, that would have been very fortuitous, except that he rolled his eyes. Maybe he was rolling them at Maureen for materializing food...but what if...?](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[What the fuck was that about? He'd rolled his eyes when you'd thought that, and maybe he was just rolling his eyes at Maureen insisting they eat but...that moment had kind of passed.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You feel your face go hot, immediately embarrassed that you were rude...but then, you'd only thought it. He couldn't have heard you, he must've just been rolling his eyes at Maureen insisting that the two of you eat...but the timing would suggest that he had heard you.] Can you hear what I'm thinking? you think, and he nods. Look at me right now if you can hear me. He turns to face you and you feel yourself flush with anger. It's a conscious effort, he tells you, like that makes it any better that you're just realising that he has all these higher powers that you know nothing about and he can spring on you whenever. I can't hurt you, he reminds you. "Get out of my head!" you snap out loud, and he rolls his eyes. "You asked." Maureen arches an eyebrow. "Care to cut me in?" (link: "\"Only a jackass archdemon who tried to kill me last night.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What could I possibly say right now?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Why bother?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["We've moved past that," he snaps, and you laugh like a bullet being shot out of your chest. "Oh are we? Because you offered to let me kill you back once you were sure that I couldn't?" Maureen leans back in her seat, watching the two of you fight.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["I'm the only one here who gives a shit if I live or die," you snap, feeling too-warm and stupid for letting yourself get into this situation. "What the fuck do either of you care if I'm upset?" "You asked!" he repeated irritably.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I'm upset, but what does it matter? I'm the least significant part of this entire arrangement, I'm the least powerful, and I'm just waiting to see if anything that's convenient for Siruud will happen to help me or end up killing me." Your voice is shaking: annoying, and vulnerable.] "Why don't the two of you start from the beginning?" Why don't you tell her exactly what you want her to hear? you ask him, and he scowls. "You're prompting me to read your mind and then getting angry when I do it!" "I'm just thinking!" "You're thinking at me!" "You said it takes effort!" "Enough!" Maureen stands with surprising swiftness for her general stature. "What the hell is going on here?" Siruud glares at you and you turn to the old woman who's going to take his side. "My boss called me in to work to look after an artifact she was binding. The artifact escaped containment and I put it on to try and carry it out of the office." You hold out your fucked up arm and her eyebrows raise into her hairline. "Now I'm stuck with him and we have to get unbound so he can leave and I can go back to work, preferably without him digging through my head or any other weird tricks he can do that he just isn't telling me." "And you work for SignetWorks?" she asks, and you nod. "H'm." (link: "\"I've gotta eat.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I know, but I don't have any choice.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I didn't ask what you thought about my life.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[She doesn't seem particularly compelled by that argument, (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[and you might not have been either if you didn't remember the dark, consuming dread of seeing rain clouds start to gather and knowing that your shoes were on their last legs and you couldn't replace them](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[which is fair enough, but doesn't change the past and doesn't change that you don't have any other skills to fall back on](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[and you're not usually particularly defensive of your choice except that you don't really know that this witch has the wiggle room with which to judge you].](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["There's always a choice," she says shortly, which you're sure is great for her. You don't know her, or anything about her life. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[Maybe she's had it just as hard as you, maybe she's had it worse: one thing you learned from your lowliness was not to judge the people down there with you, though](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Maybe she's never felt a gnawing emptiness growing inside her like a black hole, and maybe she's never made a bad decision and been forced to live with it, day in and day out, afterwards. You think if she had, she wouldn't be so quick to hoist herself up onto the moral high ground about it](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[There's plenty of people who go through life without ever being tricked, without ever swallowing the blue pill and trying to force the world to make sense in a way that doesn't challenge them. They're lucky: you were stupid].](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[She looks taken aback by that, but someone had to say it and you're the only one in the room who can advocate for you. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[She doesn't know the bottomless pit of terror that poverty through you into, and she hasn't seen a quarter of what you'd do to never be there again](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[She doesn't know the shame and the guilt of not being anyone, of knowing that everyone around you is sick with pity for you no matter what you do or how good you feel about yourself](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[She doesn't understand your regret, the shame of having been gullible and selling your soul away before you even understood what was in front of your face].] "If the two of you are going to discuss ethics, spare me. I just want this binding broken." It occurs to you, passively, that maybe allowing the archdemon to go free after the binding breaks isn't a good idea. You don't know anything about Siruud, besides that he's called the Devourer. That's not...nothing. He presses his lips together and you scowl, because he's doing it again. "You two are as impossible as each other. Must be why the binding took so strongly even though it wasn't made for you," she says, sitting back down with a huff. "How have the two of you been getting along?" "Does it matter?" Siruud asks shortly. "We came here for a reason, Maureen."

"I imagine. A Retrieval Officer skips a few promotions, I hear about how Siruud got picked up at the Overlook, and then the two are together and in my living room; one of which is wearing a bracelet that doesn't belong to $him." You wonder how early she clocked your arm, even with the glove. You took it off for her earlier, but a witch could probably clock it from its aura or something. Siruud offers his hand and you stare in confusion before realising that he wants to demonstrate your burnt arm. You offer it to him begrudgingly, because at least he asked: who knows if he can compel you? When his skin touches the burnt parts of you, they burn hotter—not unpleasantly, but alarmingly. "Clearly the binding was transferred to $him when the spell finished, and in lieu of the box, $he became my vessel." "Oh don't call $him a vessel, honey, it sounds dirty." Your feel your face drop in shock as Siruud sits up in offence—far more offence than you, which doesn't make sense because it's not like he's the vessel in this situation—but Maureen pushes on. "Do you know what bindings were used?"

(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You heave a heavy shrug, choosing to let go of the weird not-insult. "I saw them, but I can't read them," you tell her, struggling to even recall what they looked like. You could ask Tahira, but that would be a stretch: she would know, but also wonder why you want to know and how it came up. You're just...not quite savvy enough about the comings and goings of priestesses to make something feasible up.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You squint a little, trying to summon to mind what the bindings had said. You wouldn't be able to read them even if they were directly in front of you, not being a priestess with the appropriate reference material and training, but maybe if you can write them down it'll be useful. Anything to avoid actually lying to Tahira in order to get her to tell you what they said. "I saw them," you offer meekly, having nothing to offer besides that.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You shrug and grunt, only distantly recalling what the binding paper had looked like when it curled and burned off the edges of the box. It doesn't matter either way, you reason: you haven't undergone even a quarter of the training that priestesses do, so half-recalling a bunch of nonsensical scribbles is only going to slow down the process of figuring out what the hell is happening.] She nods, then looks at Siruud. "And I assume you've tried true love's first kiss?" she asks with the absolute gravity of someone making a serious suggestion. You're not sure who reacts first, but you and Siruud both consciously shift away from each other. "What?" "Why would I have tried—" You note with mild amusement that the great and powerful archdemon is talking out from between clenched teeth; you can't tell if he's flushed as you're not even sure demons do that, but you like to think he is. "First of all, you don't need to try anything on your own. You know about this, don't you?" She's addressing you now. (link: "\"Yes...I know of it.\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I do not, actually.\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[It's fundamentally the turn it off/turn it back on of the magic world; it's frequently used as a catch all for many different curses. Movies would want one to believe that this clause is one of the easier ones to get around, either through technicalities (like getting one's non-romantic loved ones to administer the necessary kiss) or just pure goodness winning out over the churlish and cynical stance that true love is hard to find. This is not a movie. Binding an ancient archdemon trapped inside a bracelet to a box and putting a clause in the binding that necessitates true love's first kiss (the first also being important when weeding out potential bind-breaking kisses)? And then locking said box away in the deepest, darkest bureaucratic archive known to humanity? Forget about it.](elseif: $_temp is 1)["Oh honey, it's the turn it off and turn it back on again of the magic world. It's the most basic, first level binding clause that it's cliché; how's a demon in a bracelet in a box in a hole in the bottom of a basement going to pick up the first kiss of his true love?" That makes sense. You've heard of it in the sense that you've watched children's movies so it doesn't surprise you to hear any of this, but you dread the implications of such a reasonable explanation.] Siruud's face is set in stone. "Maureen. We need another option." "You're just going to feel stupid if you don't try it," she says, for all the world making you feel like you're being scolded by your grandmother or something. You very carefully, however, say nothing and try to make your face do absolutely nothing. "Not as stupid as I'll feel if I do try it," he snaps in return. She shrugs her shoulders in a way that is intentionally taking you on a guilt trip for not listening to her (a truly nefarious sort of higher power of a woman old enough to be known as a crone). She looks at you. "Sorry sweetheart, I tried." Siruud's head snaps towards you as if you have been around her without him for even a moment, and you glower back at him. "Well, if neither of you will do what's easy then we'll just keep going down the list. What do you know for sure?" "I'm unable to leave Sanctum City," Siruud says urgently, before you can even open your mouth.

(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["My arm looks like a hotdog that fell in the campfire," you snap, because oh, poor him. He has to live in your city. You've got a scarlet letter emblazoned on your arm that's keeping you from doing your job.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You take your hand back from Maureen, turning to flip Siruud off with your charred fingers that are making it impossible to return to your job where you make money to survive. You'd play him a song on the world's smallest violin, but your fingers are burnt, not to mention how you're job's going to be in trouble with any more independent trips like this.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["My hand is...clearly not injured, but the charring and the unremovable bracelet make it difficult to keep the situation from my coworkers," you say diplomatically, ignoring him entirely. Eventually Tahira isn't going to tolerate your messy excuses for not including her in the investigation.] "Oh that's just his mark," she says dismissively, flipping your arm palm-up and checking your fingerprints. "Like a hickey," she adds pointedly, and you're starting to think maybe Siruud's the one who's given her an impression she shouldn't have at this point in your crisis. You turn to look at him and he's got the bridge of his nose pinched. "It is not like a hickey," he snaps. "How is it unlike a hickey?" she returns without pausing, barely after he finishes his defence. "I didn't choose where to put it!"

"I'd argue if you're doing it right, no one really chooses." You'd argue that a hickey is very much intentional rather than a horrific side effect, but you're thinking at this point you'll keep out of it. He can't be angry at you if you don't say anything, probably, and you're not feeling comfortably impervious enough to her jibes to really go head-to-head. "Maureen," he warns, slouching back down into the couch. She waves her hand at him, making a dismissive noise. "Fine, fine. Anything else?" There's only the one thing left, that Siruud can't kill you and it presumably goes both ways (untested). Of course to demonstrate this, he swings his arm out hard towards your face and then follows through as it falls harmlessly into your lap. "You're an asshole," you snap furiously, shoving him away. "Why? I knew it wouldn't work!" It seems he's almost reached his limit on this evening as well, openly angry now.

"Some people warn a person!" "Most people aren't certain they won't hurt the person they're swinging at," he spits. "And no, Maureen, the incessant behaviour policing seems to be a skill taught at SignetWorks rather than a consequence of my connection to this obnoxious human urn." "It isn't behaviour policing to ask to be warned before you try to hit me!" You're standing again and abruptly grab a couple tortellinis to take across the room. You can't give in to his stupid arguing if your mouth is full, ideally, and while you try to focus outwards and count to ten Maureen rests her chin in her hand, balanced on her knee. He says nothing either. She waits for completely frosty silence before she speaks, which doesn't take long. "Do you know the name of the priestess that performed the ritual?" she asks faintly, and you nod. "Tahira," you say, although you almost think you shouldn't have. It feels like betraying her, but Siruud doesn't look one way or another about the information; that's in direct contrast to Maureen, whose face has regained some modicum of secretive fascination that makes you wonder what she actually knows. She turns to Siruud, who isn't looking at her but grunts in acknowledgement. "You don't say. Is she the one that picked you up?"

"I assume, if she's the same one whose office I was in." So he doesn't know Tahira personally—only by sight. That's not surprising, but sort of a relief as you're not sure how many dark secrets you can take in a month. "What do we do Maureen, that is what we're here to ask. Clearly this situation is not sustainable, so we need a quicker solution than I have faith that SignetWorks can provide." She hums a bit, like she's having an internal conversation, standing up and wandering into the kitchen. She opens a cupboard and tosses a can, presumably, into a recycling bin. The both of you watch attentively, until she leans on her sink and makes a face that isn't particularly encouraging. "I'll let you know. I have to look into it. Think about what I said about that kiss though." Your partner stands, looking shockingly vulnerable. "Maureen, I don't think you underst—" "Is that what you think?" she asks, staring down the archdemon like he's a young hooligan that she's mentoring instead of a being older than time. He shrinks and clenches his fists at his side, then sighs. "I'll be in touch. Until then, I would find a way to make this situation more agreeable for the both of you." She even shakes her finger for emphasis. He stays quiet and unmoving for another heartbeat, then turns to you. "Let's go, $first." You nod, still sort of unwilling to speak with him but definitely, perhaps, thrown by how urgently he wants out of this situation.

Poutine Truck, 02:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 2s)[You hunch over a classic poutine, half gone and sort of making you feel better despite the rapidly degenerating quality of this very time-sensitive food. Siruud ate two before giving up, which is a testament to the portion size of the establishment; they looked honestly concerned, because John Park does not look like his physical proportions can nor should hold two rounds of gravy, cheese, and fries. "I'm sorry," he says out of nowhere, looking uncomfortable beside you on the curb. You cast him a glance out of the corner of your eye before refocusing on your food. "For?" you ask, as if you've been stewing in silence all night. He sighs. "Currently? Not informing you that I am able to read your mind," he mutters that, to avoid eavesdroppers, "and for not warning you about my...demonstration of our predicament." You'll allow that, for the sake of secrecy. "I'm not frequently in the position of having to explain what I do, nor...around people who would be alarmed by my behaviour." You can sympathise—maybe better than he suspects.]

"Do I make you nervous? Because of SignetWorks?" His mouth thins and he takes a deep breath. "I do not believe our situation is wholly imbalanced in my own favour." He's saying very little, but you're getting the idea that he does that when he doesn't want to talk about something that might make him come off as passively vulnerable. "In that case I'm sorry too; for not taking that risk to your person more seriously." He nods shortly but does not verbally acknowledge it, because god forbid he tread into vulnerability. "I want this to be painless, Siru—John." Especially because if a miracle occurs and the two of you are separated, you'd like it if his first instinct wasn't to tear your head off. "I would also...prefer that. Painlessness." His eyes flicker over to you, but you get the distinct idea that you're not his focus. You hold up what's left of your food and grin. "You want it while it's still semi-edible?" you ask, shaking the box a little. The bottom layer of fries are a write-off by now, unless he's desperately hungry; and apparently he is, because he smiles faintly and takes the lot of it. "Human portions," he explains. You snort and curl up for warmth, giving a comforting little wave to the people manning the truck who look on in horror at John Park continuing to eat something that no real human should be able to consume more than (link: "one portion")[(goto: "trans")] of.

{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Don't come in to work today</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Sorry. Was that obvious?</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">(cycling-link: "yeah LOL did not plan on it", "no ur good thanks for the heads up", "maybe but it's w/e")</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">We'll need to meet somewhere else</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Somewhere public?</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">(cycling-link: "is that safe?", "why?")</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">It looks less suspicious, like we're on a job.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">what are we like...gunna do?</div> <div class="self-texts">while we set up to look completely normal</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">a little light reading!</div> </div> </div>}

Café Pearl, 0:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[Tahira sent you the address of a cafe near the east side of town, a place you'd usually avoid patrolling altogether. SignetWorks collects Infernal, not any of the other supernatural species that haunt the streets of Sanctum City. None of them flaunt their presence, but many of them are far less alienated from humans and so it's none of your business—SignetWorks doesn't cover oopsie daisies because some merc was too stupid to know the difference between an Infernal and a yōkai and wandered off the patrol route. The outside is quaint brown brick, which on its face is pretty sad. If you squint you can almost see the residential building it was before it passed along into the commercial circuit. You think it was a vintage dress store, a print gallery for an artist that turned out to be a money launderer, a 'boutique pharmacy' which you're pretty sure was a front for designer drugs, a record store that sold weed out the back, and now it's a cafe. You step inside and aren't surprised by the overly clean white aesthetic, a little too bright for the evening and almost perfectly empty except the person you're looking for. Tahira's posted up in the corner, wearing a cropped longsleeve black turtleneck shirt and high waisted paperbag pants in a soft pink. She's surrounded by papers and books, some floating so she can reference them without turning pages, and others scattered around in the mess of trying to find information that wasn't contained in them. (link: "\"Oh, wow.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"T, the barista is gunna spit in our drinks.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Anything good?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I tip well," she tells you. "Plus I clean up after myself." "Have you ever worked a cash register? You've already poisoned the atmosphere." You slide a few papers back over to her side of the table as you drop down to the trendy little ottoman-thing on the other side of the table, and they slide immediately back.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["H'm? Oh, the mess—no, I'll tidy up afterwards," she assures you, gesturing to the trendy little ottoman-thing in front of the table. "Take a seat." "I'll help," you promise, gingerly putting aside a couple stray papers.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["Would my coffee be this big if I felt my night was successful?" she asks, inclining her head at a just under four foot tall reusable cup. "Sorry, that came out like someone who hasn't finished her waist-height coffee. No, I'm having...limited success." "Take a sip," you advise her with a twitching smile.] Tahira waits until you're comfortable and holding an (cycling-link: "iced coffee", "hot coffee", "hot tea", "iced tea", "healthy smoothie", "thick fruit smoothie") before resuming her work. "I'm dissecting the specific wording of the binding I laid down. There were several layers and I didn't write all of them personally." (link: "\"You didn't?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What about the ones you did?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Is that normal?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[Her mouth twitches—not quite into a smile, but fast enough to mask—and she nods. "Yep. It's not safe to have all the curse-breaking knowledge sitting with one person."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["They don't matter much," she says with a dismissive gesture. "Those are all my standard favourites, some really pedantic stuff."](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[She pauses for a nearly indiscernable moment but then shakes her head. "Of course not, no one ever does. It helps to keep the bindings from breaking, if one person doesn't offhandedly know all the ways to break it."] "So what are we looking at?" you ask, and she sighs. "A thousand and one good deeds, the experience of perfect happiness, to get someone else to perform a specific set of actions, true love's first kiss—" "What, really?" "Of course. Where's a demon who's been bumped down to a rock locked in a box supposed to find their true love to kiss for the first time? It also minimizes the utility of angry friends." Tahira never seems particularly bothered by her work, and you...kind of wonder why. The two of you wouldn't have as casual of a rapport if she was a corporate cheerleader, but what exactly is her angle? "$first?" she asks, and you realise you've been quiet. (link: "\"Just wondering why you do what you do.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Do you hate Infernal?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"A lot of clauses for one guy.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Why I make bindings?" she asks, and you shrug. "And do the whole priestess thing in general. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[I don't get the impression that you're hard up for money](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[You couldn't possibly need to prove anything to anyone](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You don't seem to buy in to company propaganda], so like...what is it, I guess?"](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Siruud the Devourer isn't just some guy," she corrects you, a little sharper than warranted. "Sounds personal," you suggest, and she frowns.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["All of them?" she asks, and you nod. "Uh...no, not really. Why?" "This is a lot of work to catch a demon who slipped away, but he's hardly the first." "They usually don't bind to my best agent before they leave," she reminds you, and you stare back flatly. "You know what I mean," you insist, and her refusal to meet your eye doesn't deter you.] All at once several of her floating reference books snap shut and drop into a neat stack on a shiny white vinyl booth. "Fine," she tells you shortly. "No point in keeping secrets at this point, right? SignetWorks is...a long con. A means to an end." (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You raise your eyebrows, honestly surprised by the intensity she's suddenly serving. "You don't say?"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You feel yourself stiffen, half surprised with a creeping sense of dread. You can't unopen Pandora's box. "Tell me more," you say, even so.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You sit back, arms folded: now the truth comes out, for better or worse. "Go on," you say shortly.]

"I needed them because they hunt Infernal. I don't care about your average demon, but Siruud is different," she says, her words coming fast. "He's a monster. He's what the company wants you to believe every demon is, but we know better. Your average Infernal is no more nefarious than any human criminal." (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You feel a deep and involuntary curl of anger to hear it said out loud: you could have been one of those human criminals, thrown in jail for nothing, for being poor where people could see you, for being on drugs to try and force yourself from day to miserable day.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Your heart sinks to hear her say it out loud, so frankly. Your heroics are nothing, and they've never been anything. If you protected anyone then it was only incidental, and thinking that what you were doing was important was repulsively naïve.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You flinch as she just lays it all out for you, frank and unapologetic. You wonder if there was ever a time where she believed, or if you were the only one gullible enough to believe everything you were told without question.] "$first. Surely you knew that," she says gently, and you nod. (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Just dealing with the psychic damage of hearing someone say it out loud."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I just...I don't know. I'd hoped there was some point to it all, even if I couldn't see it."](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["I'm fine. I know. I knew the whole time."] You take a cold breath in, then nod. "Keep talking." "I'll talk about Siruud," she says softly, and you try not to react in a way that gives her pause. "I met him when I was young. He's a killer, he's unrepentent, and he's a prick. There's nothing redeemable about him, and I've been hunting him for almost as long as I can remember." "What did he do?" you ask, and she looks away shortly. "I don't think I want to talk about that right now," she says curtly. "I hope you trust that I've not dedicated my life to sealing away a particular demon on a whim."

You sit back, letting the new context sink in. Tahira's been using SignetWorks to hunt Siruud, which means that him being there the night she calls you in...probably wasn't a coincidence. "Who brought him in?" you ask again, fixing her with what you hope is a stern look. She lied to you that night: she had to have known, or else she was supremely lucky. "I did," she admits. "I'd picked up his trail a few days beforehand, and all signs pointed to him trying to leave the city. I couldn't let that happen." "Why did you lie?" Work friends are different from a pact to seal away the demon who performed some formless harm against me friends, you guess, but you'd kind of been under the impression that you and Tahira were, respectably, in cahoots. You'd thought she'd tell you if she was running a work scam. "I didn't lie," she corrects, and at your look she wilts. "Just saying it flat out would have made me sound unhinged," she says forcefully. "A demon wronged me and I've been lying in wait, using a multi-billion dollar corporation's resources to hunt him across the globe? That's comic book bullshit: I'm aware." (link: "\"I wouldn't have judged you.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Maybe I'm down for some bullshit.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"So you didn't trust me.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I mean, I'm here aren't I?" You hold up your fucked up arm, very subtly hidden under a huge heavy sweater tucked into a work glove. "Seems like the road here would've been shorter if I hadn't been dragged in kicking and screaming."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I can't imagine what that must be like," you add, hurriedly. "And I don't want to pretend like I understand what it's like to carry that burden, I just...I would have rather been brought in than dragged," you tell her, drumming your clunky hidden arm under a big sweater and a heavy work glove.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[She frowns but you hold up your cursed arm, hidden under a heavy sweater tucked into a giant work glove. "No, you didn't trust me. Maybe you liked me but you weren't going to tell me what I was risking by blindly following your orders."] "You're right, and I'm sorry it backfired on you like this," she says, her voice low. "I was pretty sure I would risk everything to take Siruud down, but I think everyone can be really positive about their vengeance quest until the shit hits the fan." "So now what?" you asked, and she thumbs the metal straw sticking out of her drink. "We have to unbind the two of you, and then put Siruud under a proper binding," she says, something she's evidently thought quite a bit about. "Both tasks will be difficult without knowing where he is, but I suspect that being bound to you at least prevents him from leaving the city." "He came to my apartment last night," you tell her, and she pauses, a ripple of stillness passing through her whole body before manifesting as a sharp drum of her matte-pink nails against the shiny table. "Oh?" "He wanted me to go with him to speak with a witch, and disappeared when I said no." She immediately scowls, taking a surly sip of her coffee. "Maureen," she tells you shortly. "The two of them go way back." "Is she...also not good?" you ask, and Tahira shrugs. "She's irritating, but I'm after Siruud. I don't care about the people he's tricked into thinking he's some sort of tragic figure." You've met the type before, although you're not sure if it would manifest the same way in a witch who personally knows the demon. SignetWorks is almost always hosting some form of protester, and you do your best to politely ignore them. "That's a dead end, though: she won't help me find him, and she won't speak to you without him." "Then what are our options?" Privately, you're a little more concerned with getting yourself unbound than worrying about what comes after. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You understand that Tahira feels strongly about putting him away, but call it an old instinct: you'll see what things look like in the moment](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Of course you want to help Tahira nab him afterwards, but you're not sure that you'll be any help at all until you're not bound](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You've been here before, with someone telling you that something has to be done against a greater evil—the guy did try to kill you, and you're not super pleased about that, but you want more information]. She pouts her lips, considering something you can neither see nor picture. As you try to puzzle it out from the concentration between her brows, she pulls out her phone and send off a couple of texts. "I think it's time I consulted a few people."

The Grind, 0:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 2s)["This is where we're going?" you ask incredulously, staring up the long line to get into a nondescript building that you've just now learned is a secret underground nightclub for the supernatural. The glamour on the denizens in line is so thick that you genuinely can't tell who's wearing it and who isn't: people glitter before your eyes in mysterious, sharp human disguises, while other creatures who aren't at risk of being hauled in by SignetWorks (so, anyone besides the Infernal) stand in their full glory. A fluffy white kitsune watches you with vague curiosity as their faerie friend lights up a joint, incessantly talking. "Mhm. This is where my...council is," Tahira says, twiddling with the end of her braid. "Are they...?" You can't even decide what they would be—there's too many options. "They're normal," she says with a shrug. "And they hang out here?" There's so many eyes on you that you can't imagine that any of these people see just plain old mortals regularly. "Yeah. Don't worry: people stare, it doesn't mean anything." Tough talk from her: no one is staring at Tahira, which you imagine is because her magic is trained and powerful while yours has an undergrad at a local community college. You could have taken it further, really applied yourself, but (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[you had neither the funds nor the time](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[you figured it was more useful to learn on the job, still imagining a world where SignetWorks was interested in expanding your horizons](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[it had seemed more urgent to start working, to start protecting people].]

You shift uncomfortably, trying to stand in a position that says I don't even notice that you're watching me, let alone care. It's not easy: being the only mortal in line (besides Tahira who hardly compares, and stands as if she genuinely neither notices nor cares) is an exercise in being short ((if: $player_height is "short")[more than usual](elseif: $player_height is "average")[an unusual feeling](elseif: $player_height is "tall")[only in comparison]) and plain, with nothing extraordinary about you. Oh, you can (if: $player_magic is "flame")[light a cigarette off your thumb? Bet it would kill you to smoke it though.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[freeze the rain as comes down? Could you cool down my drink while you're at it?](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[create a bioweapon on accident? Try not to take out a whole block of mortals trying to give me a cough.] Some of the people in line have wings, claws, fangs, and could obliterate you on a whim and just aren't interested in doing so. It's as humbling as it is obnoxious, like being invited to a party as a joke or because your friend begged them to. "What are you thinking?" Tahira asks, looking a little uneasy. "You can't read my mind?" you ask with a smile, and she laughs self-consciously. "It's not among my many skills." (link: "\"I'm not thinking anything, just waiting.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Wishing for a tail, kind of.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Just busy getting stared at.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["A tail?" she asks, and you shrug. "Or wings. Or claws. Something to make me blend in a little better." Modern media tries to hype up humans as natural, akin to waterfalls and hills. It's one of their lamer propaganda attempts, if only because why on earth would a human be anymore natural than a fey or a troll or even an Infernal who showed up first? Where did they come from if not nature? Everything comes from nature or else it couldn't exist.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[It would be fairly humiliating to admit that you're feeling small and weak in line to go see her friends, and you don't want to sound like you're blaming her for it. "You have to be thinking something," she argues. "I don't know. Just keeping my head down, trying not to think too much at all." Who knows who can literally read your mind in this crowd?](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["Sorry. It'll get better once we're inside," she assures you, shifting back and forth. "People are just curious. They don't recognise you." "Probably for the best," you say shortly, and she laughs. "Maybe. I don't know that there's many people who'll stick their neck out for Infernals regardless." "Is that one of those kids-show metaphors? No circle would ever help a square in Circlesville," you say, affecting the condescending British accent of the children's shows of your youth. "Meaningless exclusivity is one of the stories that humans know best," she says with a shrug. "The only one we know better is over-explaining a really simple concept because we think that people reenact senseless prejudice because they don't understand how not to." "Deep," you tease, and she snorts.] Despite being overlooked by most of the people in line—and those that aren't ignoring her seem mostly surprised that she's hanging around with you—Tahira doesn't seem entirely at ease either, and maybe less so because of your fairly obvious discomfort. (link: "Reassure her.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Distract her.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Ask her about it.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

{(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["What's up?" you ask, and she resurfaces from whatever was on her mind to look at you in vague confusion. "You look on edge." "Look where we are," she says with a one-shouldered shrug. You're not buying it. "No one seems bothered by you." "Doesn't mean I can't be bothered by them." "You're barely looking at anyone," you say, and she snorts. "I don't want to stare. Why, what do you think I'm doing?" she asks, and you...don't know. She's just being odd, and you need her to be normal (cycling-link: bind $player_outgoing, "so that you can pretend to be calm", "so she doesn't freak you out", "so that no one notices the two of you"). "Exactly. Settle down, you're making me nervous."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Do you come here a lot?" you ask, and she resurfaces from whatever was on her mind with a start. "To like, dance?" you clarify pointlessly, if only to signal that you don't actually care if she's coming here to pound back glitter and shots. "Oh, I...guess. Sure." She seems more uncomfortable with the admission which is actually the opposite of your goal with asking. "Seems like a pretty nice place," you offer. You can't see much of it, but (cycling-link: bind $player_outgoing, "a club is a club", "you know your clubs", "you don't know dick about clubs"). "It's nice, once you get used to things," she agrees. You think she's agreeing with you anyway. "Do you prefer other places?" you ask, and she shrugs. "Nowhere I can go."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["You look a little worried," you say, and she smiles flatly, resurfacing from whatever she was thinking about with a physicality you can't imagine that she intentionally telegraphed. "Anything you'd like to share?" "Well, you know...look around," she says, and you nod. (cycling-link: bind $player_outgoing, "You love clubs, but", "You're not mad about the location, it's just that", "You hate being here, because") it's definitely a risk for the two of you to just act like normal patrons, which just makes you more curious as to why Tahira's human consultants wanted to meet her here.]} The line shuffles forward and you watch the group of trendy goth dhampirs in front of you pass the rope, and a pack of werewolves clamber out, tipsy and giggling and on their way to the next bar. "Hey T," the bouncer greets, and you nearly start in surprise. (if: $player_past is "bouncer")[You know from experience that a person needs to be showing up pretty regularly to even be distinct in your mind—hundreds of people pass in and out a night, after all—and then truly above and beyond to evoke warm feelings...(if: $player_personality is "irritable")[or maybe you're just not particularly friendly](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[especially given how drunk and lame plenty of club-goers already are when they show up](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[you really can't overemphasize how many people you see in a night, and how few of them are actually memorable].](else:)[You look around for who they're talking to, but the kitsune pack behind you isn't paying any attention, so the only real option is Tahira.] She smiles faintly but doesn't say anything, and the bouncer backs off. "Go on in." "Thanks," she says, and like a scolded toddler you smile and echo her. The bouncer doesn't look at you twice.

You mean to drill down into what that interaction was about, but the moment you step into the club your brain stutters like a busted automatic door. The music is so loud that even out here in the entrance, the walls are shaking. The orange overhead lights sway with the force of the sound, casting dark and looming shadows along the narrow hall where creatures lounge for a muffled break from the main room. Smoke from plants you can't name lingers in the air, sweet-smelling and not sitting as heavy in your mouth and lungs as regular smoke does (although it still makes your eyes water). Tahira takes your hand, a startlingly intimate gesture, and then pulls you through the crowd as your head swims from the smoke. Everything seems to run and blot, like sweat on a cheap shirt, which only intensifies when you're finally past the hall and into the club itself. The music is deafening, made less of notes and melody and more or less a primal beat being dictated to your organs by the vibrations of your skin. Tahira's hand in your anchor, the only constant in the room as the lights glow and shift in slow, lazy patterns up and down the walls, and the people around you twitch and grind to the music. You focus on her hand, her long fingers, as the smoke imposes strange shadows and make her look taller than she already is—(if: $player_height is "short")[which from your height, looks absurd](elseif: $player_height is "average")[which is alarming, because she's already pretty tall](elseif: $player_height is "tall")[which is jarring, because she's already taller than you which is no mean feat]. You see pink and green petals appear and disappear on the sliver of her jaw that you can see as she guides you, and she turns once to make sure you're still following—as if your touch isn't enough—and you see her eyes have gone completely black, before you blink and she's back to normal. "What's in that smoke?" you ask, your voice mute in the cacophony around you. "It's a flower with seeds that don't grow in this plane. Don't worry, it'll wear off soon," she returns, both hearing you and responding with perfectly clarity inside your mind. (link: "\"Do you know from experience?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Oh...good.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"It'd better.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[She laughs, her head dipping as she pulls you along: you'll just have to take that as a yes, if the fact that it doesn't seem to disorient her at all to walk through it hadn't already tipped you off.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[She clicks her tongue compassionately, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze. "First time's, the worse," she tells you without turning around. "Just hang on." Not a lot else you can do, so you nod.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["I'm not gunna be much use if I don't snap out of this," you warn her, and she shrugs. "Don't worry about being of use to me, $first. Just try and let the feeling pass." You don't have a lot of choice, but she seems to be the expert: she's not bothered by the smoke at all.] The two of you don't have much farther to go, luckily, and she quickly throws open a heavy-looking door. She tugs you forward and pushes you inside first, following quickly after and closing the door behind her. All at once, everything stops: the noise becomes soft and tinny 90's pop played through a tiny MP3 player docked on a set of vintage speakers, the only light in the room coming from a variety of different-sized lava lamps—although the lava in question seems to be made of jellyfish, constantly drifint apart into more jellyfish and them formlessly returning into each other to create large ones. There's a small dancefloor where a couple people are sweating along to the song, but they seem to ignore you entirely—you and the other three people inside, lounging together on a couple pieces of plain white furniture with old-fashioned looking brown clawfeet.

(set: $achieve02 to 1)The three people in front of you...are the same person. (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You've like, heard of triplets, but that's not what's going on here.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You...guess it must be difficult, to be sisters that look so much the same. Eerily the same, even, like one of them thinks to make a movement that a different one executes.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You look to Tahira irritably, because she told you these were humans. She staidly refuses to look at you, instead glowering out at the others in a way that makes you think she'd expected the others to make a better effort.] They're even dressed the same, in the same cropped spaghetti strap shirt and slitted mini-skirts, with heavy combat boots, although blessedly they've all chosen a distinct, singular colour to wear. "Girls," Tahira says severely, and their smiles fade in unison. "Same face." "Same?" they look at each other, then sigh. "Sorry T." "$first, this is Poppy, Jade, and Ginger." She gestures to the one dressed in red, green, and orange in turn. (link: "\"Easy to remember.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"All at once?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Nice to meet...you?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[Tahira sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's complicated," she tells you, and you raise an eyebrow. "You lied." "I didn't lie," she corrects you sharply. "I said they were normal." "And you're counting this?" you ask incredulously, and she sighs. "Normal is subjective."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I suspect that's why we're seeing what we're seeing," she says with a sigh. "It is," Jade agrees eagerly, and Tahira sighs harder.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[They smile at you, then at Tahira, who waves her hand. "Sorry, $first. I expressly requested that they be less...unsettling." "No, no, it's totally fine!" Three carbon copies of the exact same person dressed in different colours like a low budget cartoon...you've seen weirder. "I expected better," she said shortly.] "Is this $him?" Ginger asks eagerly, and Tahira nods. "Humans look so...fragile. Thin." (cycling-link: bind $player_physique, "That's objectively not true", "Not something you're usually accused of", "You've heard that one before"), but you don't have time to comment as Poppy stands swiftly in place of Ginger and reaches out for your hidden hand—you jerk back on instinct, unsettled by the unfamiliar dread associated with your arm now. It's like missing a stair in the dark, suddenly remembering that you need to protect yourself now. Poppy pulls back just as quick, and Jade pops up to pull her back unnecessarily. "We just need to have a look," Poppy says awkwardly. (link: "\"Why?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Uhh...okay, sorry.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Why should I show you?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["We're here to help!" Jade says eagerly, hanging off of Poppy's shoulder. "We want to see if we can force-break the bind." "What's the worst case scenario?" you ask, and see Tahira step forward, but not fast enough. "Your arm explodes," Poppy says, like that's an option at all.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["So we can force-break the binding!" Jade says eagerly. "You can do that?" It makes sense, you guess, that Tahira would take you to these supernatural experts in order to pick away at her work. "Maybe," Poppy warns. "Maybe your arm explodes."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["You're sorry?" Poppy asks, and Tahira glares over at her. "No. You're going to break the binding and move on," she says firmly, and Poppy frowns. "(upperfirst: $he) said it, not me." "Break the bind," she repeats, and your eyes dart between the two of them to try and gauge what's not being said.] "Why don't we sit down?" Ginger suggests, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. Her eyes gleam in the low light and you glance at Tahira, who nods at you: (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[if she thinks it's okay, then fine](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[what the boss says goes, you guess](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[you nod back and shuffle forward, nervous]. The couch isn't comfortable, especially when the three-for-one creature surrounds you on both sides. Jade is on your left and Ginger is on your right, while Poppy hangs back behind Jade, just...watching you. "So, standard binding?" she asks, and Tahira nods. "It's...layered though," she says, folding her arms over her chest. "It's multiple bindings." Jade answers before the others. "All building off of each other?" "Latticed." The three draw back sharply. "I do good work," Tahira defends, and Ginger frowns. "When you want to." "So why would you want to?" Jade asks. "Can't I just want to do well?" she asked, and Poppy glances at you. "Can we see your arm now?" Ginger asks. You hear the breath Tahira takes in.

You (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[remove your glove in a sharp, jerking motion, like ripping off a bandage](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[gingerly slide the glove off, as if the skin beneath is sensitive: it isn't, but it feels like it should be](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[awkwardly untuck your sleeve and pull the glove off]. You're not exactly prepared for the way that all three of their forms ripple and pull back, like their glamour is being pulled off of them. You quickly hide your hand in case it's some kind of demon-thing, but they're already on their feet and retreating. The people on the dancefloor don't seem to notice. "You didn't tell us it was him," they hiss in unison. They're blurring now, like their impulse is to rejoin into a single person but they can't quite seem to manage it. "Where is he?" "We don't know," Tahira says soothingly. "He disappeared after the binding was complete." "He's trapped here," Poppy says. "With $him," Jade continues. "He could be anywhere," Ginger warns. "(upperfirst: $he)(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)['re] his vessel. He could find them blind." "So could I." Tahira's voice is low and certain, and you feel shivers break out over your skin. You believe her—she sounds certain and that same certainty echoes through you. "$first chose to be here, with me." "Did $he?" Jade asks. "Or did you bring $him and $he stayed?" (link: "\"Don't try to guess my motivations.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"How about we all settle down a little?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I'm here by choice!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["You don't know me," you warn them. "If you want to try then fine, but don't just assign motvations to me because it's convenient." "You have no idea what she's done to you," Poppy snaps.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Things are suddenly feeling extremely tense, and I think maybe we all just take a deep breath—" Poppy's head snaps over to you, her eyes burning. "You have no idea what she's done to you: I wouldn't be joking around, in your situation."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["No one's forcing me to help Tahira, and I'd never side with the demon over her." Surely that's their concern, and maybe you'd feel the same way with some stranger bound to a demon. "How can you choose something you don't know?" Poppy asks derisively.] "That's enough," Tahira snaps in an authoritative voice that you've only ever heard her take with faceless executives over the phone. "(upperfirst: $he)(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)['re] well aware of who $he(if: $gender_singular contains $he)['s](elseif: $gender_plural contains $he)['re] bound to." "Siruud," you (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[say quickly, as if prompted](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[tell them, a little embarrassed to be thought of as some helpless mortal](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[grunt, annoyed with the presumptiveness]. "I've seen him. He tried to kill me! I want to help Tahira." "You shouldn't," Poppy snaps, then turns shortly and sits back down on the couch. You realise all of them had risen like a crush to confront Tahira, so fluidly that you hadn't really seen them do it. Jade gnaws her lip, then drops back down onto the sofa as well. Ginger stays standing, her arms folded over her chest. "Do you have the paperwork?" she asks, and Tahira nods, crouching to dig through her bag and produce the heavy binder of bindings she used. "Do you have the original vessel?" "No." Tahira's voice is hoarse but firm. "It didn't survive the demon's wrath when he left SignetWorks."

A profound silence descends upon the group as the three dig through the binder together, and Tahira stands solidly but away from them. It's odd: you get the idea that she doesn't, usually. With the way she spoke with them earlier and how affected she seems from being scolded...but you can't imagine her being close friends with these three. You can't really imagine anyone being so, because they're not real—like looking into a mirror and seeing someone else. You stand, uninterested in the jargon in the book, and instead approach your boss. She doesn't feel like it in this moment, wilted and hanging on by her fingertips to whatever authority she wields here. "Your friends know about Siruud?" you ask, and she nods. "Everyone does. Infernal have been around forever and there's a limited number of them that've managed to survive this long." She pulls herself tighter, closer, like she's shrouded in an invisible sweater instead of the trendy pink tank she wore to the club. "They clearly don't approve of my pursuit of him." "Why not?" "For the same reason I imagine you would've approve of your friend becoming obsessed with a quest for revenge." For someone on her end of said quest, she seems very matter-of-fact about the futility of it. "It doesn't change anything. It's not in my nature to give up the hunt, especially when—when I'm the closest I've been for a long time." (link: "\"How long?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Are you...okay?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Your nature...?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Long," she says, her voice soft and wistful. "Too long. It wasn't supposed to take this long, but Siruud's proven...clever. But I mean clever in a shitty way." You sigh shortly, fixing her with a look. "How many years, Tahira?" You kind of want your hand thing solved ASAP, so you'd like an idea of just how futile your work is. "Sorry $first. I'm not one of those people who marks the days off on the calendar."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[Tahira laughs short and humourlessly. "I'll be better when my work is done." "Very chill and normal thing to say, boss." With every word it seems your hopes that you'll be quickly unbound are fading: how long has she really been at this? Was she a toddler swearing revenge on a demon? "Unfortunately I never promised you that I'd be laid back about this."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Do I strike you as a very laid back person?" Tahira asks with a wry smile. You shrug because you don't think of her as a hard-ass, but also before this you'd never considered her as much of an infinite revenge quest person either. "Is something stopping you from just...letting it all go?" you ask, and she snorts. "Pride and righteousness," she informs you. "If nothing else, he's a worthy adversary insofar as he's worth destroying."] (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["What's taking so long then? Why hasn't he been reported to SignetWorks?" You've certainly never heard of him before now: you're aware that there's certain levels of power that a demon can attain through concentrated study of their own abilities, much like you could be an incredible torrent of (if: $player_magic is "flame")[flesh-melting flame](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[organ-stopping cold](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[fetid disease and pestilence] given the effort, but the specifics of his name and abilities have never crossed your (metaphorical) desk. "Because no one else can kill him but me," she tells you, her eyes glassy and distant. "It's the part my friends object to the hardest." "Right. Can't imagine why."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["What's the hold up then? You have all of SignetWorks at your beck and call, and you're clearly pretty focused on this..." She does have the ability to mobilize SignetWorks on a whim, but she...didn't. In fact, as she told you not to go into work today, you're guessing that most of the building in unaware that Siruud was ever there at all, and you've certainly never heard of him before. "Nobody gets to kill him but me," she says, matter-of-factly. "So I generally avoid getting other people as directly involved. He stays away from civilization and moves constantly, so he must know that I'm after him." "Kind of weird that he ever came to the city, then," you muse, and she shrugs.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Is he very hard to track down?" you ask. Something must be holding up the revenge plot, because if you were inclined to believe that anyone you know could successfully destroy another person with just the force of their own will, it'd be Tahira...but apparently she's been pecking away at this a long time. "He is," she says softly, her eyes glassy and distant. "He travels constantly and avoids civilization. I've barely been able to track his broad movement, only to then find him here in the city? It was pure luck." "Well, he can't leave now," you say encouragingly, and she nods slowly.]

"Why did you ask us for help?" Poppy asks irritably, startling Tahira away from whatever she'd been contemplating. "You made all these bindings, you latticed them—" "I need to be able to unbind him from $first," Tahira tells her irritably. "Why?" Jade asks, a little more meekly than Poppy. "The only thing keeping him within reach is $first." You watch as your boss' jaw tightens, and you feel a curl of dread in your gut. The two of you are work friends, as much as two people can be who also don't have any time to spend together recreationally: this whole revenge things seems to mean a lot more to her than that. "Eventually they'll have to be separated," she asserts. "Then let's do it now," Ginger says mildly, and Tahira stiffens. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand, and Tahira looks away.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Oh come on. Really?" you ask, and Tahira refuses to look at you.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Tahira?" you ask softly, and she turns her head away from you.] "Can you do it?" she asks, and Poppy snorts. "We could figure it out. You could too, you're just outsourcing the work because you want to be free to hunt him down." Tahira doesn't respond, and you flex your arm at your side.

"Figure out what needs to be done," she orders shortly, then turns. "$first, we can go now." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Why the hell should I?" you snap. "Are you going to stay here?" she asks shortly, turning to the door. Feeling distinctly as if you just lost a game you didn't realise you were playing,](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Are you serious right now? We're just gunna leave?" you ask incredulously. "Are you going to sleep here tonight?" she asks, and you snap your jaw shut. Without any other options,](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Tahira," you say, your voice high and confused. "Let's go," she says, and the other three stop looking at you. Timidly,] you follow her back out into the club. Your head swims from the smoke, more urgently than before. Everyone seems bigger, more menacing, and you feel their eyes on you keenly even though some of them aren't even turned towards you. They're still looking, though, you know it. They're watching you and they can see that you're bound and they can see that you can't fix that. Will one of them help me? you think dizzily. If I asked, you they unbind me? What if they ripped my arm off? Would the curse travel? By the time the two of you spill out into the chilly night air, the rain still halfheartedly spitting onto the sidewalk, you're (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[gritting your teeth against angry tears](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[biting your lip to smother a hysterical, helpless laugh](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[letting the rain mask the tears you can't hold back]. "You're upset," Tahira notes. (link: "\"Of course I'm fucking upset!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"No way! What makes you say that?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Yeah, I fucking am.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["You're using me. You're keeping me bound because you can't get close to him without me." "It doesn't have to be like that!" she insists. "I know it's shitty of me, but this can work out for you too. You've already got a pay raise, and I can negotiate hazard pay and all kinds of bonuses—you just need to help me."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I'm having an awesome time being unwillingly bound to a demon who's tried to kill me because my boss wants to use me to kill him." "I know you're being sarcastic, but if you just help me out here then I can help you too," she says, an edge of desperation to her voice. "You've already gotten a raise and I can offer bonuses, hazard pay, anything you want."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I'm upset that you keep lying—" "I'm not lying," she corrects in a hollow voice, and you snort. "You're sure not telling me the fucking truth! About anything! How much more am I going to find out after the fact?" "I know that you're feeling mislead, but if you just trust me a little then I can make this work out for both of us. I need you, but I can also pay you: you've already gotten one raise, and I can give you more, plus bonuses, hazard pay, all of it!"] (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You feel your throat go dry and hate yourself for it. Despite everything you've been through, you've never thought of yourself as a greedy person, but you've also never felt like there was ever a way to float. You tread water and accept that it's better than drowning, but this...](else:)[You feel a gut-wrenching aversion to the idea that Tahira thinks that you'd sell yourself out for money, that your cooperation in what is obviously a revenge quest gone way, way too far could be bought with whatever she can throw at you. You don't want it to be true, but...do you have a choice, at this point? If you're being coerced anyway, what are you proving to who by rejecting the money?] You feel cheap. You feel excited which just makes you feel cheaper. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[Why should you say no?](else:)[Shouldn't you feel more strongly about your mission? Shouldn't that make it easy to say no?] Tahira eyes you, and you sigh. "I'll help," you say, (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[a familiar humilation churning in your gut](else:)[feeling somehow defeated]. "Promise?" she asks softly. (link: "\"Sure, T, I promise.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What? No.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Cross my heart, Tahira.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[(set: $tahira_promise to 1)She looks relieved, pressing her hand against her heart. "And I promise you'll get whatever I can give in exchange." There's a little flash of pink light and she winks. That's...probably fine.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[(set: $tahira_promise to 1)"Why not?" she presses, and you scowl. "Why should I? Why are you asking?" You haven't exactly been truthful enough for me to not think you're up to something. "I just want an agreement between the two of us, and I'd like your honest cooperation," she says, giving you a strange look. "It's just a promise." It's not—if you can be sure of anything at this point it's that she wouldn't insist on something that didn't matter. You just...don't know how it matters, or why, or what fucking anything is anymore. "Fine," you grunt. "I promise." "And I'll promise you that you'll get whatever I can give in exchange," she says, pressing her hand to her chest. There's a flash of pink light and you narrow your eyes, but don't say anything.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[(set: $tahira_promise to 1)"So you promise on your heart?" she asks, and you nod. You don't know why you're still trusting her, but...she's Tahira. What else are you supposed to do. "I promise I'll help you get Siruud." "And I promise you'll get whatever I can give in exchange," she says, pressing her hand to her chest. There's a flash of pink light and she winks, which you can only hope is a good thing.] "So what now?" you ask. Clearly unbinding you is no longer priority one so much as trapping Siruud, but you doubt he'll be as guileless in approaching you now that you've aligned yourself with Tahira. He just needs to ask around the club he clearly goes to in order to find out that you were here with here. "Good question," she sighs. "Maureen will hide him, so we can rule out being able to track him down." "Wouldn't he just be where she is?" you ask, and Tahira nods. "Sometimes knowing doesn't help: we'd never find him even if we got clearance to storm her house. We might not even find the house." She gnaws on the end of her braid, a surprisingly...mortal gesture that startles you. Tahira so often seems untouchable and put together, but here she is biting the end of her braid like she's in high school and trying to run test prep for a hard course.

(if: $tahira_promise is 1)["We'll figure something out," you tell her, trying to sound confident. "He has to be in the city for a reason, right? Maybe that'll take us somewhere."](elseif: $tahira_promise is 0)[You tap your finger against your thigh, not exactly eager to embroil yourself more deeply than you already have, but also kind of beholden to at least hurry the process along. The faster Siruud's gone, the faster you get your life back. "Let's figure out why he was in the city in the first place," you suggest. It's one of your perhaps too many unanswered questions, and maybe the only one that could involve other leads.] Tahira's face brightens and you feel a swirl of relief in your stomach. "There's a party," she says, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "You're a genius, $first, the party: but why would he...?" she trails off and puts her knuckles against her mouth, clearly trying to connect some loose wires in her mind. "We'll look into it," she confirms, beaming. "Someone has to know, right?" "Maybe your friends?" you suggest, and if her face darkens then it's almost imperceptible—a cloud breezing across a sunny sky. "I can see what they're willing to turn up," she agrees. "And we can see what info SignetWorks has on the event." You can't imagine it's a lot—usually if Sanctum City is expecting a large gathering where even a fraction of the invitation holders are supernatural, you're hired by local businesses to patrol.

"How do you plan on finding out what SignetWorks knows?" you ask. You think it's a pretty valid concern, given she's demonstrated that if she's not happy to throw you under the bus then she's at least willing to dangle your legs out into the road and whatever happens, happens. "We're two mid to high ranking employees," she says dismissively, linking arms with you and finally leading you away from the marginally drunker crowd now queued up to get into The Grind in your places. "What are they gunna tell us? No?" (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Aren't you forgetting something?" you ask, raising your bound arm.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["What about my arm?" you ask fretfully, feeling it keenly at your side even under the glove you just managed to put back on.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["They could say something like show us your arm because it's weird that you're going through so much trouble to hide it?" you suggest, wiggling your fingers with difficulty under your glove.] She shakes her head. "You let me worry about that," she says dismissively. Somehow, Tahira having it all under control isn't as much of a (link: "relief")[(goto: "trans")] as it used to be.

Food Town, 21:30 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)["Welcome to Food Town. I'm Bulky, the Coupon King, and I'm here to show you all our amazing deals." The teen in the Bulky costume—a creased, sweat-stained approximation of a brown paper bag with enormous, blank googly eyes (that were once upon a time yellow, because no PR department is capable of catching everything apparently)—is obviously darkly aware of her reality. She curtly holds out a coupon book to Eden, Siruud's humansona du jour: he's a svelte and stylish black man with a high fade and thin black moustache, dressed like he just rolled out of a retro ball. It works for him, because you assume Siruud wills to be so. You, meanwhile, went for a stifling long sleeve shirt in the humid night air, and a thin rubber glove. You look weird but (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[fuck it.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[what else is new?](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[that's just how it has to be right now.] You're starting to question the utility of hiding the arm at all—surely at a glance no one would be able to glean all the details of what happened, up to and including your willing cooperation with Siruud—but then you start to wonder how many people around you are undercover, plainclothes, lost their ID, and maybe recognise you from the break room. "No we're...fine," Eden says in a damn good approximation of Siruud. For all the effort the archdemon puts in to meticulously crafting different handsome men to be, he seems less adept at acting as them—you're not sure if he can't not broadcast the mien of an enormous rock monster in the body of a waifish supermodel, or if that's a choice he's making. You know what answer he'd give you, and so you don't ask, instead focusing on being annoyed that he's engaging with the grocery store mascot.]

"Let me help you improve your day with Bulky's Deck of Deals!" she says with a grim persistence. "That will be unnecessary," he insists, irreverent of your actual financial situation which you're sure wouldn't be hurt by this likely substandard coupon book. "We'll just be going inside, $first?" As if this is your fault! Sure, you insisted that he come with you to shop for groceries because he's ploughed through your meagre pantry and made your kitchen look like a raided post-fallout shelter, but you also didn't think he'd be this bad at being out in public. The teen's eyes turn to panic and you sigh. "Please? My boss gets so mad when I don't hand all of them out..." You nod sympathetically and take it, putting your hands firmly on Eden's waist to shuffle him inside, as he looks outright offended that you undermined his authority before this grocery store minor. "Be sure to check out Bulky's Bargain Bin for steep discounts on bread and milk!" (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You repress a full body shudder at the memory of Bulky's stale bread with blueish mold on top and it's ugly sister, Bulky's milk with the best before date scratched off.](else:)[You've never, ever dug through stale bread and expired milk, and you don't fucking plan on starting now.] Eden moves ahead of you impatiently, and you expect him to stomp over to the carts; instead he stands and hovers awkwardly, turning on his heel to glare at you further as if you crafted this building specifically to frustrate him. Eden is a thin veneer—pretty, but you can recognise Siruud plainly in the twist of his mouth. "What's that look for?" you ask, taking initiative and grabbing the cart yourself.

"I'm at a distinct disadvantage trying to act human here," he snaps quietly, falling into step with you. He can't remove his sunglasses indoors, and it makes him look a little too glamorous for a grocery store with a mascot. "Why?" You took him to the one place in the world where every other normal human being is trying desperately to pretend like no one else exists. At worst he'll have to make friendly conversation with someone who mistook him for an employee, and somehow you think he's safe from that assumption with how wildly unfriendly he looks at the moment. "I've never been to one of these things before," he hisses, only looking more annoyed when you stare at him incredulously. "For what reason would I have had to come to one of these places?" (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["I'm sorry, I've spent this past week under the impression that you eat food and that's why I'm here now," you tell him with a laugh that comes out a little meaner than you really intended it to. You're not sure what's more bizarre: the fact that he's never been to a grocery store, or the fact that he clearly, desperately doesn't want to.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["For...food?" you ask, as if he were genuinely asking and not just trying to be explosively angry to cover up the fact that he's clearly uncomfortable. "I mean, I don't...know how you would have avoided it?" He clearly has all this time, because he's very closely resembling a vampire at the threshold of a church right now.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["What are you talking about?" you demand, trying to tamp down on the urge to just...shake your fists uselessly at the sky. He's so frustrating and now he's looking at you like you orchestrated the concept of grocery stores personally just to upset his day. "Where the hell else do you get food?"] "I..." he leans in close, evidently wary of the several older women who linger around the produce and are casting Eden looks. "I hunt, obviously. Predator hunts prey, and demons are historically predators...and we didn't need tools, like the humans did." As close as the two of you are right now, the thought of him alone in the wilderness, filthy, covered in blood... (link: "You laugh, bewildered.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You curl your nose: gross.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "It's...weirdly sexy.")[(set: $_temp to 2)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "How complicated!")[(set: $_temp to 3)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[Surely he's not serious; in a world where it's honestly a major issue for people to not have access to grocery stores, why would he go out of his way to avoid them? It's more than convenience, it's...it's just how food works now. You're sure that broadly speaking, grocery store encompasses famer's markets and neighbourhood gardens and farms and...and every reasonable way to get food. Hunting, especially with what he was born with rather than modern hunting tools, just seems difficult and messy and unsanitary and potentially harmful to the ecosystem. So...surely he's joking? He must be waiting for you to look like you believe it, because the alternative is that in this, a decade where computers fit into watches and sophisticated algorithms can remind you to go to the dentist, Siruud honestly hunts in the woods like some kind of werewolf. ...if he's kidding, he's playing it so straight that you're starting to get nervous.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[The thought of him covered in blood and viscera, cutting up a carcass among the swarms of flies and maggots and every other parasite that's attracted to dead things...it's unsanitary, frankly, not to mention: does he eat it raw? Right there on the ground like a beast? How thoroughly does he clean up afterwards? How long does he keep the meat for? How does he store it? How does he prevent damage to the local ecosystems? The look he's giving you right now indicates some offense to your expression (hopefully just your expression and he isn't digging through your head like he told you he wouldn't) but it's a little more important, you think, that you know he's not out here tempting stomach-rot.](elseif: $_temp is 2)[You picture Siruud as you know he truly is—tall, strong, with just the faintest taste of wildness that you lack, that trace of unpredictability that makes humans want to pet wolves—and then you picture his heaving chest, the predator-focus in his yellow eyes, thin trickles of sweat sliding slowly down his back like painting a tongue's path...his mouth, cherry red with blood, open and gasping for air... Oh no, he's looking at you funny. Oh no he can definitely read your mind. He promised he wouldn't but what if he definitely did and followed you on that train of thought and now he's staring at you oddly because that was a wild fantasy to have in the grocery store and it came out of nowhere...](elseif: $_temp is 3)[What trouble must he have to go through to eat when he needs to! First he's got to track, then he's got to hunt, and you assume he's taking into account the damage he could do to certain ecosystems by introducing a new predator into the mix that can't, in turn, be taken by anything naturally occurring. Then of course there's the dressing and preservation; does he stick to small game? Does he have some secret means of refrigeration to keep the meat from larger game, or could he subsist on jerky? The questions are on the tip of your tongue but frankly, you're not sure you want to know. There's so many ways this could turn out to be an intensely yucky process that you're just not quite comfortable with putting your thoughts into words but...what a weirdly intricate life he leads when not in your direct line of sight.] "What are you thinking?" he asks with more trepidation than you'd like. (if: $_temp is 2)["What, me? What am I thinking? Me?" Reel it back in, $last, get your head in the game. "Nothing. Obviously." He stays quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses that you can just barely make out behind the reflective surface. "You make not reading your mind very difficult, do you know that?" he asks, but you take that to mean he hasn't read yours and so your brain's sudden thirst for a heaving, sweaty demon has been blessedly kept secret. Eager to put the whole thing behind you, you shove your merry cart long its path to where the water is spraying down the leafy greens, wholly distracting him.](else:)["Nothing. What would I think?" you say it a little too quickly to sidestep the conversation. With the questions you have for him, you're not sure he wouldn't take offence; mostly at the implication that he's tear-assing through the wilderness like an invasive species, gnawing through raw meat and the parasites that come with. It's not a flattering image and you may not know much about Siruud, but the man likes flattery. "I could read your mind," he says, and you frown. "I won't. I haven't. But I could." You roll your eyes in lieu of a response and shove your merry cart long its path to where the water is spraying down the leafy greens, wholly distracting him.]

Eden's body language is completely indiscernable from Siruud's: while Mr. Park put up some vague front of being stoic and surly, with less poise and the general mien of a man about his height and weight, Eden seems to be irresistably behaving like a seven foot tall archdemon made of rock and infinitely dense. He looms despite the modesty of being less than six feet tall ((if: $player_height is "short")[a delicate inch taller than you](elseif: $player_height is "average")[a waifish inch shorter than you](elseif: $player_height is "tall")[a deeply satsifying foot shorter than you]), and he walks like he's trying to keep a tail and horns in check. Maybe other people wouldn't pick up on the difference, but you can—and you wonder if discomfort really has him so out of sorts that he doesn't remember what he looks like. "So what is the...what do you get, here?" he asks shortly, eyeing an arrangement of pop that would be eye to eye with him in his true form. You didn't bring a list as this was kind of a spur of the moment thing, which requires some on-the-fly planning...naturally complicated by the fact that he eats like a horse that was bitten by a werewolf. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Food," you answer, and he rolls his eyes—you can tell, even from behind the sunglasses. "What answer did you want?" "What do you cook?" he asks, examining the produce from the top down, like he's enormous. "Not a lot," you admit. Your job has a huge proportion of nights where if you even remember to jam food into your gullet, you're lucky: others you fall onto your couch and curl up, wishing that adults had snow days or that it still snowed at the rates to justify school days or that you wouldn't be called in even if there was a record-breaking blizzard because they don't care if you die on your way there. "I like to have options," you say, instead of that. "Buy things to cook," he decides. "I'll handle it. I have nothing to do anyway." "You cook?" you ask, and he shrugs. "I do. How hard can an oven be?" Very, but far be it from you to turn down free food.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["A lot of prepackaged, frozen things," you tell him. "They're cheap, they don't spoil—" "How do they taste?" he says with the air of someone who's never had instant ramen right out of the little container it comes in. "I didn't put taste at the top of the list," you demur. "It varies." The darkest times are when you have to buy a lot of those very small, very cheap microwave dinners. Maybe if they were a little larger you could tolerate them, but something about the half-melted, watered down pastas and tough pseudo-meat still being too much of a luxury to offer in more than single serving cardboard boxes makes you a little...unhinged. You've spent a lot of time staring blankly into the freezer section, seeing nothing. "Buy food to cook with," he orders. "I'll handle it." "You cook?" You try not to sound too surprised—or apprehensive. "I do," he says. "Ovens can't be that hard to figure out." Oh, no. Maybe a lesson when the two of you get home is in order.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Oh you know, just the basics. All the caviar and fancy cheese that can sit in my fridge," you say flippantly. He narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side like a dissecting animal and you—well shit, he doesn't know you're being sarcastic, does he? "I buy garbage, Siruud. Do I look like I'm swimming in money?" you ask. "No, which was why I suspected you were lying." "I wasn't lying, I was joking," you correct. "LYing implies I wanted you to believe it." "Semantics," he dismisses. "You buy garbage because it's cheap?" "Certainly not for the fresh flavour and great taste," you murmur. It's an off-cycle right now: you've officially burnt out on your usual brand of mostly-frozen half-dinner (appalling that they can get away with advertising such small portions as dinners) so now you have to find something else fast and cheap to fill your freezer. "Buy produce," he orders. "I can cook for the two of us." "You cook?" The whole hunting thing hadn't lended itself to the idea of a quaint little kitchen, although maybe that's bias because he's not human. "I do. Ovens don't seem overly difficult anyway." Of course your only option for free food is the one that's going to burn your house down.]

He starts to fill your cart with stuff, the kind of things you don't even know what to call because you've never been brave nor flush enough to try them for fear of fucking them right up. You'd say your taste usually run pretty (cycling-link: bind $player_picky, "specific", "adventurous", "average"); you're not sure what to expect from Siruud at all. On one hand, would he travel with a lot of spices at hand? On the other...maybe with the opportunity, he'll really let loose. "How am I supposed to pay for all this?" you ask, instead of broaching the idea of what he plans to do with it all. "Computers have faults all the time," he says indifferently. "Especially those in regular use by many different people of various skill levels." "What does that mean?" "It means I'm going to manufacture a fault in the checkout that let's us steal everything." He says it like it's very obvious, and like this isn't his first trip to a grocery store. "You can't use a cell phone but you're going to set up a calculator to fail?" you ask incredulously, and he shrugs. "You know I have to come back here sometimes." "Hopefully they'll have fixed their faulty computer by then." He places a bag of flour into the cart with all the care of a mother placing her newborn into a bassinet. "And if anyone tries to stop us, I can convince them they're making a mistake." "We should have done this somewhere nicer," you mourn, and he smiles faintly. "Don't let me monopolize the fun: buy what you want." (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You're not entirely sure that you remember how to want things, but you suppose you should at least try](else:)[The idea is attractive, as most of your days are characterized by a desperate longing for things inexplicably out of your reach].

The cart starts to fill up as you indulge in unthinkably luxurious things like real cheese, large packs of eggs, (cycling-link: bind $player_meat, "cuts of meat that don't qualify as leftovers", "the kinds of bougie meat substitutes that celebrities have opinions about"), produce sourced from independent farmers with happy employees a world away waving in a goofy picture on the back of the label. You feel yourself start to lose control in a way you haven't felt since you were a kid without a higher understanding of money exchanged for goods and services, and just assumed that the adults around you hated when things tasted good and were fun: you find a sleeve of crackers for five dollars that are made of rice and seasoned with something you don't immediately recognise and throw them in, (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[your whole body shaking with adrenaline](else:)[galled at yourself for how automatic it was]. "$first?" Siruud asks, and you startle. "What are we doing?" "Grocery shopping," you respond (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[defensively. He said you could take what you wanted](else:)[, confused. This was his idea]. "I meant it more broadly than that," he insists. "How does this break our curse?" His reminder of your situation drops your mood into a tub filled with ice water. "It's a binding, not a curse," you remind him pedantically. "And how will groceries break our bind?" (link: "\"We need food no matter what we do.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I'm not hearing any suggestions.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Pardon me for having other shit to do.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Complaining about the groceries isn't gunna unbind us any faster than buying them will," you grouse. "If you have an idea, just say that." "I worry that you won't be...receptive," he says haltingly, and you roll your eyes. "If you think I'm dragging my feet to bask in your glowing personality, don't worry."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You can hardly let yourself starve trying to will an idea into existence. "I'm not saying food isn;t necessary," he argued, "but we make such little progress in our unbinding." "Siruud, if you have something to say then could you just say it?" you ask, exasperated.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["But you're not focusing on the most pressing matter," Siruud argues, and you shrug. "What's so pressing about it? We don't explode if we stay bound too long." Not that you're looking to keep him around or anything, but he's inventing a deadline that doesn't exist. "No, but how do I know that your mortal death wouldn't affect me?" he asks. "Man come on. I'm not gunna die of old age tomorrow." And he could stand to be less of an asshole about your mortality. "What if my death at the hands of the priestess that actively hunts me affects you?" he tries, and you roll your eyes because he's trying to appeal to the side of you he made up that cares more about getting yourself out of trouble than him. "So what do you want to do?" you ask, and he straightens.] "We broach SignetWorks," he says, bristling when you instinctively roll your eyes. "I mean it!" "I know you do." You know he does. You're not rolling your eyes because you think he's kidding around. "We need to find out the terms of my binding before Maureen can even hope to break it." (link: "\"Then why wasn't she asking me to storm the building?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I can get that information from Tahira.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"If you're trying to scare me, don't bother.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[He closes his mouth with a frown and you smile as you toss an entire six pack of electrolyte drinks into the cart. "Sounds like having that information would only help you." "So?" he asks, immediately defensive. "Is my comfort not valuable in our situation?" "When you're asking me to go to work visibly bound with no good answers for anyone so that you can know something that won't help either of us? No, your comfort does not outweigh my basic freedoms." "You think they would imprison you?" He clearly struggles to conceptualize the way you would be detained, without the benefit of binding. You're just mortal, though: keeping you where they want you only requires strong enough bars. "I think I'd be lucky if I were just imprisoned." How often do mortals get bound to Infernals, after all? "Surely you could infiltrate the priestess' office without raising the alarm." That this was his big plan is deeply disturbing to you.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["And you honestly believe she will surrender that documentation to you without question?" he demands, and you clutch a box of cookies to your chest, surprised at his vehemence. It's not like you told him to go without. "Yeah. Why wouldn't she?" you ask, and he rolls his eyes. "Why would you want the binding documentation? You can't do anything with it, as far as she knows. You would need her to translate it for you and she would insist on involving herself." "You seem to know her pretty well for someone who's never met her," you grouse, but he isn't wrong: she would have no reason to belive that she shouldn't get involved. "What do you want me to do then? Steal it out of her office?" "That's exactly what I'd like you to do," he says, and you kind of regret leaving that avenue open for him.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["Are you not disturbed by our forced bind?" he asks, and you nod indifferently, chucking a couple packs of different flavoured(if: $player_meat is 0)[ vegan] jerky into the cart. "Sure, but the second I let you leverage that over me is the second that I start doing stupid shit like breaking into a high security office because you want to feel like you're doing something." "Something must be done," he insists, his eyes flashing from behind his sunglasses. "We need to pull our weight in our relationship with Maureen." "I doubt that's true, or else she would've asked me to get the documentation for her. The more we try to interact with SignetWorks, the more vulnerable we make ourselves." "What about the priestess' office? Surely there's something there for you to find that wouldn't raise the alarm of the people around you." You feel your whole body prickle with the kind of flight or fight response you usually get moments before a fight breaks out.] "That's your idea?" you ask, galled. "Why not? You would not be going anywhere that you would not usually." You hold up your hand—the very conspicuous cursed arm bound up like a sword of legend in storage—and he takes a deep breath. "Do not show anyone your hand." "And if they ask?" "Tell them no?" "That's not how SignetWorks works."

He presses his lips together in frustration, clearly trying to gather his—well, not his patience. He doesn't have that, especially where you're concerned. "Must I tell you that your employer does not own you? I've been alive for all of human history and even present for some of it, and your kind has fought very hard to ensure that." "It's complicated," you (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[grunt](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[say, shrugging helplessly](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[say sadly]. You don't know how better to explain to him the leverage that your employer has over you as the one thing standing between you and (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[total oblivion](else:)[financial collapse]: apparently he was only present for the part where everyone won the battle to keep kids out of factories, and not the slow, century-long backslide. "We can put your arm in a sling," he continues, obviously not finding your lack of explanation particularly compelling. "Wrap it in plastic, to keep it from getting wet. Tell them you need to pick something up from the priestess' office." "What do I tell the priestess?" you ask, and he shrugs. "She'll likely not be there. She wants me, and evidently has already decided that SignetWorks is no longer useful in that goal." "She works there, Siruud." "Eden," he corrects, obnoxiously. "And I think she would surprise you. She had thick glamour when we met." You frown, turning on him roundly. "Glamour?"

"At the Overlook where she caught me," he clarifies. "And in the office where she found us." "Glamour for what?" you ask, and he shrugs. "Perhaps she intended to hide something from me." "Did you see her face?" "I did. She looked like a plain mortal to me: dark hair, braids, brown eyes." Your hand flexes at your side. "That's just what Tahira looks like," you inform him, and he shrugs. "Perhaps she's hiding something from you as well." You've never sensed glamour on her before—and you weren't exactly lucid enough in that moment to make a special note of something being weird or off—so maybe it was special for him. Whatever she hides from you, she wouldn't have been able to hide from SignetWorks though, right? But what would she be hiding? And would it explain something about the Siruud situation? Could you ask and get an answer, or would you have to pretend as if you had also seen her glamour? Would she believe that or would you just be exposing your partnership with Siruud? You clutch your cart full of food and close your eyes. "Buy my groceries," you tell him. "Then we'll talk.

SignetWorks, 02:30 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 2s)[You step into the building, barely registering the people around you. Siruud couldn't come—well, you had assumed that Siruud couldn't come, unable to dedicate brain power to thinking through the logic of whether or not the building had Infernal detection systems given that he'd been in the building once already and no one had seemed the wiser, to say nothing of the logic of actually trying to pull this thing off—so you're on your own for this stupid misadventure. You walk up to the desk and pull your lanyard up from your chest, pressing it and your forehead against the glass. The front desk likes to give you a hard time about access to the building, because you lose your ID all the time (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[and they seem to enjoy the banter of refusing you entry to your workplace, needling you to see how far until your friendly façade cracks](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[and because you get so fucking angry when they needlessly hold you up just to watch you get frustrated, the fucks](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[and they seem to take genuine pleasure in the fact that you're helpless to argue with them, something you'd normally never suggest about another human but is objectively true of these ones]. "Tahira's not in," the current desk jockey lets you know. "I still need to be inside," you tell her, annoyed that your presence seems so linked to Tahira's. The fact that she's not in is good: hopefully that means you can be out before it becomes an issue. "What is the reason for your visit?" "I work here." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You clamp down on your rising anger as hard as you can.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You do your best to seem firm and unbothered by the unnecessary semantics.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You smother an instinctive smile, an involuntary response to discomfort.]]

"Name?" "$first $last." "Title?" "I have my ID right here," you remind them, but you might as well be talking to a brick wall. "$player_title." "ID number?" "I can hand you my ID." "This is a contained office for the safety of SignetWorks employees," they drone. "Read the numbers out to me." You bite the inside of your cheek, taking a few slow breaths. You don't imagine it when they finally glance at your face for a reaction. They think it's so funny, you think, your stomach boiling. We're adults and they're prodding me for a reaction. "Zero, zero, zero, one, five—" "Slower, please." "Zero...zero..." "Zero zero zero one five zero zero?" they say. It's wrong. If they looked at your ID they would see that it's wrong. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You give in, pulling your ID back and slamming it against the glass. "Read the fucking card," you hiss.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You smile despite yourself, feeling your lips twitch with the effort. "No, not quite. Read the card," you suggest, your voice nearly shaking. "It's easier."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["No, that's zero zero zero one five seven—" "So where are those other two zeroes?" "I'd started over." "So zero zero one seven—" You clench your jaw, feeling your chest swell with humiliation. "I think it's best if you just read it off the ID."]

Your fingers twitch beneath the wrist-brace, sweater, and glove you're wearing. You didn't do it so you can imagine who did—someone who said he wasn't going to come along. You're not supposed to be here! you burst internally. I don't think you should be left alone, he argues, and you flush with worse embarrassment than before. Why, because the office thinks it's funny to egg me on? you demand. You think I can't handle a mean secretary? I think this will go smoother if you allow me to help. That's objectively not true but you ignore him instead of starting another argument, waiting for the painstakingly slow data entry portion of your evening to be over. You're not even going to ask what aid I can render? (link: "I don't care.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Please, just let me handle this.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Of course I'm not!")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[(if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You glare down the secretary, aware that it's what she wants but tired of trying to keep it from her.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Your lips twitch uncontrollably up into a smile, the only reaction you're able to give. It's infuriating, frustrating, but there you are anyway, unable to stop grinning like a moron.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You wince and offer a polite smile to the person who has only ever been rude to you, working the position where people are typically incredibly rude to you.] You should care. I suspect you could derive at least a little benefit from our situation. Don't fucking offer me help because I'm embarrassing you. You're jumping to conclusions, he dismisses. Make eye contact with the rude one.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[(if: $player_personality is "charismastic")[Your lips twitch uncontrollably up into a smile, the only reaction you're able to give. It's infuriating, frustrating, but there you are anyway, unable to stop grinning like a moron.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You glare down the secretary, aware that it's what she wants but tired of trying to keep it from her.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You wince and offer a polite smile to the person who has only ever been rude to you, working the position where people are typically incredibly rude to you.] I'm not gunna get us arrested because you want to show off! you tell him, hoping you sound harsh but pretty sure you just sound uncomfortable. Please. There are horses who could sense my presence more easily than anyone in this entire building, so I don't see why you won't even experiment with what benefits you could derive from our situation. What benefits? You like benefits, but you're not sure about his definition. We'll see. Make eye contact with the rude one.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[(if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You wince and offer a polite smile to the person who has only ever been rude to you, working the position where people are typically incredibly rude to you.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Your lips twitch uncontrollably up into a smile, the only reaction you're able to give. It's infuriating, frustrating, but there you are anyway, unable to stop grinning like a moron.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You glare down the secretary, aware that it's what she wants but tired of trying to keep it from her.] If you're going to handle it then please. Go on. I'm handling it by not making everything into a huge deal, you return, and you can sense the roll of his eyes. That isn't handling it, that's acquiescing to it. If we're going to be a burden on each other, at least attempt to derive some benefit from it. Benefits? Certainly: for instance, make eye contact with the rude one.] (if: $player_outgoing is "introvert")[Do I have to? you ask, and his sigh echoes through your body. No one's ever died from eye contact. I'm not afraid I'll die, I'm afraid that I'll look too hard or that they'll look back too hard and when I do it no matter what my skin starts crawling— Luckily none of those things will matter in a moment. Make eye contact.](else:)[You're not gunna blow her up with my mind are you? you ask, and at the raw offence that echoes through your body, you assume the answer is no. "Of course not! How many people have I killed since you've known me? Me? Well clearly I didn't succeed, and as someone in charge of putting me in a little box in a basement for eternity maybe you shouldn't have been as surprised as you seem about it. Make eye contact.] You sigh and lift your gaze to obey, staring straight into the blue eyes of the rudest person you've met today, including Siruud. They glaze over. Tell her you're going inside. Don't tell her where we're going. Siruud... (link: "She'll know we charmed her.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "We're on camera! We're being watched!")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You can't just do this to her!")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You say it not as a reprimand, but to...test him, a little. Has he thought this through? What are the limits of this power? She won't, he assures you carelessly. She'll remember being very tired in the middle of the day and waving through someone who works here. And no one will know that I did it? you ask. No. And you'll note, no alarms went off, no bells began to ring—the building remains none the wiser.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[And what are they seeing? You, speaking to the front desk and then entering your place of work? You send as many panicked vibes as possible towards him, but it does nothing—about as much as it would if you were freaking out at him in person. Look at her. Does she look charmed? You blink, trying to focus your eyes—but she just looks sort of bored and annoyed, just like before. No one will notice.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Do what to her, exactly? What if she gets fired for letting me in?! You work here, $first. If anything she'd be fired for obstructing employee ability to enter and leave at their convenience. You can't just go around manipulating people's minds, even if they're being assholes! Well, at least you can admit she's an asshole. Think of it less as manipulation and more of a quick conversation skip.] "Go on in," she says, sitting back in her chair. She's dismissed you now, going back to whatever she was doing on her computer before you got there. You stare in surprise, feeling an unexpected rush of adrenaline. You don't want to think it, but...that was something. At minimum it was the fastest you've ever gotten past one of these checkpoints regardless of who was working, but to apply that power more broadly— Now you're getting it. (link: "Handy.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "No! That's bad!")[(Set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "H'm...something to think about.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[(set: $player_powers to 1)I'm glad you feel that way. He sounds surprised although you're not sure why. It's high time this situation started working for you instead of actively against you—you might've gotten a raise and a title bump that means no more getting eviscerated on the streets, but things have never been so precarious for you. Untapped Infernal power is the least you could be given for the inconvenience of finding out how the company deals with human accomplices.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[(set: $player_powers to 0)Of course you'd say that, he sneers, and you sigh. It's bad for me to have it! It's bad to try and use it to make my life more convenient! Why? he asks flatly. Because I don't need it! Humans need very little. Your society is based off convenience. Which is bad!](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[(set: $player_powers to 2)What does that mean? he asks, sounding wary. I don't know what it means. On one hand, Infernal powers have made your day easy and convenient—on the other, they did that by stripping a woman of her autonomy, briefly...an autonomy she was using to fuck with your day because she thinks you're a spaz. There's lots to think about. What needs to be said about power applied so...mundanely? You're not worried about me going power-crazy? To what end? To take over the transit system of the city? It could use an evil overlord's delicate touch.] You slip past the gates and into the hall with your hands jammed into your pockets—not all that different from how you usually haunt the place. No one looks at you twice as you step into the elevator and jam the button you want, jamming it a couple more times as the doors linger open (of course you know there's a correct button for you to press to close them but you always end up hitting the wrong one and you're kind of preoccupied with the very real possibility that any detour could spell your doom). Finally you're alone again, although still certainly on camera. "This sucks," you murmur, trying not to move your lips too much. If it's that big of a concern, why not continue to communicate like this? (link: "\"It makes my head feel funny.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"It's not really instinctive to me.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I feel crazy enough already.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[And speaking out loud to no visible person feels less unusual to you? he asks skeptically, and you shrug. You spoke too fast: you didn't mean to say crazy, didn't mean to imply that, but that's just what you do. You talk before you've decided on what to say and you let the worst parts of you decide how you feel. It's not always bad: you've got much firmer, more comfortable boundaries than anyone else you know...but sometimes you'd like for someone to understand that you're trying as hard as you can to be nice. It's just not working. "I just want to hear someone talk," you try. "Even if it's just me."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[I would never accuse any part of you of being funny. "Harsh." You'd agree with him, really: you don't crack jokes because you're trying out your comedy chops. You just...say stuff, and people respond to it. You're not even sure if they're reacting positively or just humouring you or if they're annoyed...](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["People talk to themselves sometimes. I live alone. It's not behaviour that demands intervention." (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[Although people's reaction to people talking to themselves on the streets is demonstrably contradictory.](else:)[Maybe unusual, but not something you'd be convicted for.] So behaving notably isn't unusual for you? he asks. You think it's meant to be a jab but you're genuinely not sure if anyone on earth has ever noticed you in your life. "I don't know," you admit, embarrassed.] The two of you lapse into silence as the elevator hums up to the priestess' floor and opens with a pleasant ding. You slouch out into the hall, accustomed to how everyone ignores you as you make your way to Tahira's office. You don't think she's in: you don't know for sure, but if she is then it's not a big deal. You knock once before opening the door, (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[as usual](else:)[brusquer than usual, but you're eager to be out of the hallway]. It's empty and dark inside except for the light from the surrounding block and a couple of ugly billboards flickering neon colours into the shadows. You step into the shadows, absently dragging the door shut behind you as you shift into investigation mode: if you were a binder full of binding instructions, where would you be (assuming Tahira wrote you)? There's no cameras in here, Siruud says, and you look around. He's right, weirdly—Tahira's office is a total security blank spot, which in retrospect makes sense or else everyone would already know about your arm and Siruud and everything. You make a faint noise in your brain, a hum of acknowledgement, and then Eden is standing in front of you, examining the windows. "H'm. I wonder how she explained these," he muses. (link: "\"Get back in the bracelet!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Spell backfire.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Siruud, it's dangerous here!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Why? No one saw me come out of it." "We don't know that for sure!" You spin, trying to find the secret device that's going to bring security down on your heads—it has to be here somewhere, right? Even if Tahira wasn't aware of it, even if it got put in after the windows were repaired, even if no one actually cares as much as you assumed about your run-in with Siruud—but nothing happens. No alarm sounds, no one pounds on the door, and Siruud just stands there examining the windows. "See? It's fine. Let's look around."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Pft, hardly." He doesn't look up from his examination of the windows and you look around, frantically trying to find and destroy the device that's no doubt reporting right to the heart of security that you brought a demon in here. "I'm being serious, you can't just hang out here!" "I'm being serious: whatever was going to happen would've happened by now. Instead we find out that the security is buoyed mostly by the assumption that the security is infallible." You'd like to argue, but...nothing's happening.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Did she tell you that?" he asks, sounding surprised. "No, but it's what I'd say. There's no cameras here so they can't prove anything and magic goes weird all the time." Passively, you wonder why there's not cameras. When he suggested the idea you were skeptical, but upon even the most basic amount of investigation you can tell that Tahira has deprived the office of even convenient hiding spots. The decor is minimal and often a little brutalist, with no leafy greens, very thin picture frames, uncomfortable looking furniture that lacks any cushion to conveniently hide realistic listening devices in...how'd she do it? Or, rather, how does she get away with it? "I suppose...let's look around, anyway, and leave before anyone investigates."] There's not a lot of places for a binding binder to be—you know that whatever she's written it in has to be considerable (for the sheer complexity of all possible binding clauses), or else deceptively small (to obscure, again, the sheer complexity of all possible binding clauses). You don't know that she's particularly good at illusion or glamour, except for Siruud's word, and despite his word you think you'd've noticed if there was a knot of pulsating glamour in the middle of the room. "Do you...sense anything?" you ask, not sure if he could or if he would say anything if he could.

"Sense what, exactly?" he asks, and you shrug, sliding open a desk drawer full of spare notebooks. "Kind of hoping we wouldn't be groping around in the dark," you tell him, feeling your heart sink. It isn't about the amount of work it'd take to search every drawer in the office, or even sinking idea that maybe it isn't even here and he talked you into taking this huge risk for nothing. There's a pervasive hopelessness weighing down your torso like a stone. "What do we need this book for anyway?" you ask. "Maureen can use it to break our bind," he says with the unearned tone of someone who's had to repeat himself several times. "And what do we do after we have it?" you ask. "Give it to Maureen." "And then?" And then the two of you sit around and wait. You go back to doing what you were already doing, hoping that a solution drops into your lap. You volunteered to help him but neither of you know what you're doing, neither of you have any idea why this is happening. Maureen doesn't know but maybe she can help—but maybe she can't either. Maybe you're going to be stuck like this forever because how the hell are you supposed to fight this enormous burden without even a quarter of the information that you need? Siruud turns to look at you and frowns. "You set off a curse," he says. (link: "\"What?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I did, the second I met you.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"It sure fuckin' feels like it.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")["There was a trap—must've been on the drawer," he says, and holds his hand out in front of your face. You want to sob because he's not explaining anything to you. How are you supposed to just intuit what he means? How does he expect you to continually read his mind and treat you with such intolerable disdain when you can't— Your mind abruptly clears and you take a deep breath you hadn't been anticipating, like resurfacing from water. "What the fuck?" you ask, doubling over to cough. "That drawer was cursed," he repeats. "A standard rune meant to demoralize and overwhelm you." "Well...fuck, Tahira," you mutter, still nauseous.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["You're hardly the first to say so," he says dismissively, then holds his hand out. You feel like biting it off—does he have to react to everything you say like you're a moron? Does he have to treat you—you are drowning. Does he have to make it worse by being so openly hostile to you all the fucking time? Just once you'd like— Your mind goes blank, and then like a beautiful tide all the horrible shit just washes out of you. You stumble and drop into Tahira's chair, your knees shaking. "Wh-What...?" You look around like it's the first time you've ever seen the office. "The drawer you opened was cursed," he tells you matter-of-factly. "Meant to overwhelm and demoralize would-be thieves." "It fuckin' worked," you pant, looking down at your hands.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["What a pointless thing to say," he says curiously, like you're doing it on purpose. He holds his hand out to you and you snicker, shaking your head incredulously; what does he want you to do? What does he want you to understand about this? You can't even comprehend this simple, stupid gesture, and yet you're here breaking into Tahira's office to try and find a book to tell you how to fix everything? You're in so over your head it's grimly funny— And then your mind clears. For a second it's pure bliss, until you're suddenly jolted back into the moment, winded and disoriented. "What the fuck...?" "Cursed drawer," Siruud says, gesturing down to the desk. "I imagine a little gift to would-be thieves." "Fuck that," you say, consciously backing away from it.] "If it's trapped then I imagine we've just found our book," he says, waving his hand over the drawer to dispel any lingering traces of the curse. "There's just a load of notebooks in here," you protest, your hands clasped behind your back. He notices your hesitation to actually touch anything and does so himself, lifting out a notebook and sighing. "It's written like a cookbook," he says, and you frown. "Or more accurately for you, it's written like an old cookbook. No measurements, implied recipes, multiple documents all referring to each other and lacking context without." "Is that bad?" you ask, and he shrugs. "It's Maureen's problem. Let's take them all and get out of here." (link: "Gather up the books.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Let him gather up the books.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[You quickly pick up all the notebooks in the drawer and jam them into the bag he offers you. You don't know where he found a bag, if he had it the whole time, or if he's stealing that from the office too, but you're not going to ask right now: you're going to leave, before you get caught. "You're so nervous," he says blithely. "Breaking and entering not your usual territory, I assume?" "I try to stay away from arrestable offences," you return shortly. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[Nothing pigs love more than an excuse.](else:)[You've never really felt the need to step up your crime game—frankly, you still don't.] "You seem very confident," he says, and you almost feel good about it until you realise he's making fun of you. "And you seem like you've done this before," you accuse, but it feels lame. It's not like you really care. He sneers in response: evidently the comment didn't hold much water for him either.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You step back conspicuously from the drawer full of cursed books and he raises an eyebrow. "You know, it's probably not ideal for the curse breaker to be put under a curse," he says, and you know that. Academically that's true. "I'm not gunna be your curse guinea pig," you warn him, and he rolls his eyes. "Now it's my fault that your boss cursed her desk?" "It is once you decide that me getting cursed is the best way to solve the situation. I've had it up to here with curses this month." Your arm situation isn't really a curse, but it feels like one on and off depending on the day. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You've lived through worse, but a normal fucking month would be nice. Just once.](else:)[It definitely ranks on the top ten list of most stressful things to ever happen to you.] "We'll see," he says, as if you were debating the merits of it instead of sternly telling him to just avoid curses. Still, he reaches into the desk and takes the notebooks, jamming them into a bag of mysterious origins (you hope he didn't also steal that but you can't really help it if he did) and throwing it over his shoulder.] You make your way to the door, your vision nearly blurring as you beeline for the elevators. Of course, you couldn't possibly get that lucky.

Out from nowheresomeone is blocking your escape route to the elevator, and just as you realise that, you note with a vague horror that Siruud is still out. He's Eden right now, but he's fully visible and on display for Calrin Choi to see, and doesn't seem particularly bothered by that fact. Calrin is the watch dog for the CEO, the ever-opened eye, unblinking and omniprescent. The fact that she's here, with her sharp black bob and face that looks like no one ever told her she was supposed to sleep, means trouble. "Good to see you, Agent $last," she says briskly, in a tone that says in no uncertain terms that her pleasure at seeing you is mostly just the effort she saved trying to hunt you down on your own turf. "Package for you." She holds her arm out straight to hand you an orange envelope full of papers. "For me?" you repeat uncertainly. That's never happened before, which is a bad sign—and now you don't have Tahira to run interference for you. "That's what I said." Her arm hovers perfectly still in place, and you reach out and take the package from her, holding it awkwardly in your clenched fist out from your body, like it's a bomb. "Have a good afternoon, Agent $last. Your friend as well." With that she's off, her office heels clicking against the tile. "What was that about?" Eden asks, and you turn to fix him with a look that you hope that least gives him indigestion if it doesn't outright burst an organ.

(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["That was everything going up in smoke, thanks for noticing!"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["We're so fucked. We're so fucked, why did you walk out of the office?"](else:)["That's it. That's the ball game."] (if: $player_hair is "natural" or $player_hair is "curly")[You press your hand to your forehead as if feeling yourself for an invisible fever, looking around for someone to blame.](elseif: $player_hair is "shaved")[You run your hand over your scalp, feeling sweat beading in the prickles of hair poking out of your skull, your hands shaking.](else:)[You run your hands fretfully through your hair, tugging on it as your stomach sours with terror.] He watches you with subdued curiosity, because why would he take this seriously? Why would he ever take you or your concerns seriously? "What's in the package?" he asked, and you suppose by now you'd know if it was a bomb, so you rip the top off, your hands shaking as you bully him into the elevator. Teamwork is an exercise in compromise, and so you pull the papers out in the elevator even though you want nothing more than to just stand here in tense, miserable silence until you can make a break for the street. You skim the first few pages, having to force your eyes to focus. When they do, you frown. "It's my promotion paperwork," you say. There was an enclosed envelop of the fancy variety, with a wax seal and your name written in gold script on the front. Siruud tilts his head inquisitively and so you open that too, one eye on the number of floors you've managed to get through. Inside is a fancy card, one the type of paper they print wedding invitations on like anyone on earth is going to save them in their guy they kind of know scrapbook. There's a standard, corporate congratulatory message on the inside, but then the same hand that wrote your name also wrote down a date and time, with an elevator code. "Fuck," you whisper out loud, so sick and fucked now that your nausea has transcended illness to just become a constant shake, like a small-breed animal.

"What?" he asks again, visibly impatient with not being handed the bundle. You hold out the card if he wants it that bad, but it isn't going to mean anything to him: it would've barely meant anything to you a month ago. Sincerely, Adrien Bright "Who's Adrien Bright?" Siruud asks with a frown. If Calrin Choi is the unblinking eye, red and dry, then Bright is the beast it belongs to. Bright is the shadow moving against a black background, half-invented by the mind as it searches for something familiar and comprehensible about what its seeing. Bright is everywhere, nowhere, nothing, no one. "They're the (link: "CEO")[(goto: "trans")]," you say miserably as the elevator dings, finally freeing you.

Sir Flex-a-Lot's Workout Colosseum, 22:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[Tahira's sleek metallic water bottle has a chromatic aberration pattern that hurts to look at for too long, but it's either that or make eye contact with the large, hollow, sun-bleached plastic mascot Sir Flex-a-Lot. He's a knight whose visor is tinted sunglasses, whose muscled cartoon body is bare except for a pair of basketball shorts and knee-height gladiator sandals: you hate him, and yet you're fascinated by him. When Tahira had suggested some light sparring before heading into SignetWorks, an idea you're still not entirely sure about, your mind had wandered to the employee gym that you spend precious little actual time in (why bother—you run when you're being chased). Of course, that hadn't been a real option, so now you're sitting in the closest gym that offers free use to SignetWorks employees. It just happens to also be a rapidly fraying novelty workout arena kept afloat by a series of hyper-passionate regulars that think real gyms should be dirty, sweaty, and loud. You can hear the unnecessary grunting from the waiting area while Tahira signs the both of you up for SignetWorks memberships. You'd be helping, but perhaps characteristically, you don't have your ID on you.]

"I'm back!" Tahira rounds the corner, dressed in the kind of expensive athleisure that you don't like to spend too long looking at in the mall in case there's a charge for looking. It highlights her strong, shapely shoulders, and also remind you how tall she is. She's grinning as she gingerly hands you a fragile cardboard cup full of what looks to be a smoothie. "It's your sign-up bonus," she explains. "There was only one flavour or else I would have asked." You trust her judgement, and demonstrate that by taking a tentative sip. There's so much protein powder that first of all, the straw doesn't budge from where it pierces the beige-ish drink, and secondly you really have to give 'er to get any smoothie in your mouth. All that considered, you wonder why you bothered in the first place to get this profoundly unpleasant mixture in your body: it's the driest liquid you've ever had in your mouth, a plasma made of chalk. "Yeah, that's the same face I made when I saw him make it," she tells you with a grin, settling down beside you and resting her chin on her palm as if you're going to try this venture again. "Do you want to go spar about it?" (link: "\"Not as much as I wanna barf about it, but sure.\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Oh, you don't want a taste first?\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[She nods sympathetically and pats your shoulder, using you as leverage to stand. "Hope you haven't gone to rust after all this," she says, flicking your forehead teasingly. "Yeah, a demon I stole the artifact of hates me because I didn't agree to go rogue with him and that's really offered me the comfort and peace required to slip out of shape," you shoot back, hauling yourself to your feet to follow. She falls into step beside you and you're proud of yourself for only have one weird, brief moment were you wonder if you're standing too close to her; followed by a satisfying shiver of electricity that you feel raising the hair on your arms as you brush against her.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You offer it out to her and she laughs, standing up like you're going to let it drop. Absolutely not, not on your watch, not with your mouth coated in the kind of horrible stuff that dentists use to make molds of your teeth if it were made out of baking powder. "Go on, T, you so kindly brought it to me," you tilt it towards her again and she looks at you carefully. She takes off running, which you absolutely expected and throw yourself after her with a laugh. The two of you make it pretty far before a staff member glares the two of you down, giggling like teenagers, and you fall comfortably into step beside each other.] The main room is exactly how you envisioned it, like a retro caricature of a tough guy's gym. All the weights are steely metal bars and scuffed black weights, the battle ropes are fraying and incorrectly left on the floor to operate as a tripping hazard, the vinyl on the seats of all the machines had long since peeled back to reveal the yellowing foam underneath, and all the mats on the floor have clearly been torn up and glued back down in messy spot-jobs. The walls are depression-grey. You glance at Tahira, who's frowning. "You think they have disinfectant wipes?" she asks. (link: "\"Oh sure, right beside the hand sanitizer.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"No. No I do not.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Laugh, slightly panicked.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[Tahira gives a mean little laugh, nudging you. "What, you don't think they let the customers touch the cleaning supplies?" she asks, and you snort. "I think their equipment is a fucking science experiment by now," you return, and she cackles.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["You think that if you touched any of that it'd be slimy?" she asks, and you barely restrain a gag. "I do," you manage. "I can picture it so vividly in my head that I'm going to puke. I hope you're happy." She snorts and you imagine she is.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Is that near the hand soap?" she asks, her face perfectly neutral. "Sure, right over where they have the embroidered towels." "I heard the towels are nice here—" she finally breaks, slapping a hand over her face to smother a laugh. "Can you imagine a towel from this place? Absolutely grey. One thin, communal, grey towel."] "I think we can safely assume our best bet is to avoid the equipment," she says, turning to the ring. Its empty because it's the early night time and the people who go to twenty-four hour gyms to avoid the people are going to avoid them a lot harder than just showing up at ten, and the people who were just running late after work have already come and gone. "You wanna stretch your magic muscles?" she asks.

You nod mutely and the two of you climb onto what is at least a semi-regularly mopped sparring area (you can tell from the visible mop lines on the ground, which you think cancels out the credit they would get for cleaning it) and stand across from each other. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You feel your shoulders stiffen and you wince—what the hell are you doing? It felt totally natural to clamber up here but Tahira is a priestess and you've got (if: $player_magic is "blight")[a bioweapon](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[a body temperature that routinely runs a couple degrees too hot to be totally comfortable](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[an unsettingly cold grip].](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You feel abruptly embarrassed, like...who the hell are you? Standing there? Like you're gunna fight Tahira? With what, your (if: $player_magic is "blight")[unstoppable bioweapon](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[too-high body temperature](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[perpetually cold nose]?](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You stand across from Tahira over what suddenly seems like a yawning, terrifying distance. What now? What could you say in this moment besides like, please not the face? Maybe (if: $player_magic is "blight")[sorry about the unstoppable bioweapon it only has one setting](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[feel the wrath of winter as I make the tips of your fingers numb](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[are you sweating more than usual because that's me I'm doing that].] It occurs to you that since Tahira doesn't actually hunt demons—not for the company, anyway—you've never actually seen her magic outside of healing. You kind of assumed that she was specialized in that direction—having more than one core to your power takes immense amounts of concentration. "Ground rules?" she asks, and you shift, your eyes turning to the ceiling for a rule that makes you seem less afraid of doing this at all. She rescues you from the awkwardness. "To first yield?" she asks, and you nod. "I can't think of anything else." (link: "\"Not the face.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Are we pulling our punches?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Have fun?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Figurative punches," you clarify, like some sort of chivalrous knight. Magic duels aren't usually very hands on, with specific exceptions depending on the discipline. "H'm...I think you can handle me," she said, and you...aren't sure that you agree, but your brain immediately shuts down the part of it that speaks, so you just nod mutely.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Oh I plan on it," she says, rolling her shoulders. Her tone is both vehement and teasing and you—well, what the hell could you say in this moment? The best you can do is (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[nod curtly and prepare yourself](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[laugh nervously and get ready to rumble](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[smile directionlessly and try and shuffle into a stance that looks intentional].](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["What, you looking to pivot to modelling?" she asks, and you snort. "With a face like this? It'd be cruel of me not to." It certainly sounds better than I've actually never thought about what you're capable of before and now I'm scared that I'm gunna get my ass beat. "I need a back up career anyway. This one's pretty dangerous," you remind her, waving your cursed arm.] There's no starting bell, but you've found in real fights there rarely is. One second you're joking around, and then you watch her weight shift in the particular way that spells trouble when you're out by yourself. You don't give her the chance to strike first, your hand darting you to grab her wrist—(if: $player_magic is "frost")[your hands are so cold you've nearly circled back around to hot, leaving a shivering red welt on her skin](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[being a bioweapon, you need to chose your battles, and so for this battle you choose itch and red welts bubble up on her skin, leaving a perfect imprint of your hand](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[you have one mode and that mode is hot, so you let her have it enough to leave a sizzling red handprint on her skin]; not enough for permanent damage, but let no one accuse you of holding back. She yelps and stumbles back, yanking her arm away and healing it in a flash of gold. You sweep your leg out to try and trip her, and of course she jumps the motion. Your intention wasn't to actually get her legs though; why bother, when you've instead left a slick of (if: $player_magic is "frost")[black ice](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[hot embers](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[what's best described as slime] on the arena floor beneath her. She lands in it and loses her balance, falling back. The overhead fluorescent lights dim and flicker back to life, like a corpse twitching, and suddenly Tahira jerks, ever so slightly—and then she's gone. Before you can turn on your heel to find where she went, you're blown back across the ring, hitting the lank elastic ropes around the edge and sagging off the platform. What the fuck was that? (link: "Roll with it.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Holy shit, T!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What was that?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You wriggle forward, trying to reclaim the momentum of your body weight from the limp ropes holding you precariously off the ground. By the time you're up, though, the ground rumbles under your feet and you find yourself popping up in the air, like you're jumping with no input from your body at all.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You scramble for the edge of the platform again, your movements broad and awkward, but before you can reach it you feel the ropes start to snap back and forth like they're being pulled by invisible assailants. "Whoa—are you doing this too?" you ask, like there's someone else in the arena.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You try to slide out from between the ropes to put yourself back on solid ground, but there's a rumble and you feel tension start to coil back in the elastic. You're confused, until you realise that its the whole room, rather than just the arena, that's shaking—everything is moving to Tahira's invisible rhythm.] "Come on, $last. This is a battle, right?" she asks, crouching across from you with her hand pressed to the ground. "You gotta do better than that." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[Oh, you can do better. You use the momentum of your involuntary jumps to actually spring forward, throwing your arm back to create (if: $player_magic is "frost")[the old classic, a sheet of ice](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[a wall of fire](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[a miasma of smoke and brimstone]. She throws herself away from it and all at once the thumping vibrations of her magic halt, and you hit the ground much harder than you anticipated.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Well, you can't take that lying down. You throw your weight back so that the movement of the ropes launches you back onto the platform, using the momentum from her wave spells to get behind her and throw down (if: $player_magic is "frost")[a sheet of ice](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[a classic blast on furnace heat](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[a thick cloud of smoke and stink]. She throws herself forward, away from it, and all at once her magic stops—along with your momentum. You find yourself hurtling out of the arena and onto the ground.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[Well, you'd hate to bore her. You push yourself back out onto the platform, moving quickly—unpredictability and surprise are your closest friends right now, and you intend to use them to your advantage. You dart to the right and throw your magic left, pushing her towards you with a (if: $player_magic is "frost")[sheet of ice](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[wall of fire](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[a non-lethal but very awful cloud of stink and smoke]. She staggers, but pulls her magic back—everything stills and you step wrong on your own foot, on the ground before you even realise what happened.] "Oww..." Tahira looks over at you, her face slack and wane. "Are you okay?" she asks frantically. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[(link: "\"I'm fine.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Just barely!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[(link: "\"Oh for sure, why?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Won't lie, been better.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[(link: "\"It's not as bad as it looks.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I could use a little help...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable" and $_temp is 0)["You don't seem fine." "I am." You're not sure you are, but you've definitely been hurt worse. "I'm sorry, I should've been paying closer attention," she frets, chewing on her thumb.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable" and $_temp is 1)["I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I just—I got into it!" "I can tell," you grouse, falling back on your ass to examine your legs for injury. You're pretty sure you're fine, but you definitely weren't expecting anything like that. "I should have—I mean shit, are you okay?" she asks, gnawing her thumb.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic" and $_temp is 0)[You roll over on your back, not quite up to actually sitting up just yet. You'll get there: eventually. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn't think you'd—" She cuts herself off and you wonder if she's trying not to laugh. You don't have it in you to look up and check just yet.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic" and $_temp is 1)[You can't even bring yourself to roll onto your back and face her with some dignity. Embarrassment outweighs actual pain; you want to believe that when you're finally willing to look up, she will have just forgotten what just happened. "Are you like—should I call someone?" she asks, like she's not a healer. "Don't think I want to share this one," you tell her. "Do you need healing? Fuck, I'm really sorry $first," she says. You can't see her, but it sounds like she's anxiously chewing something.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate" and $_temp is 0)["Are you sure?" she asks in a high-pitched voice, her arms outstretched like she means to pick you up. You sit up, flushed and trying to downplay the way your ankle throbs—it's definitely not actually injured, but it throbs painfully. "Yes, positive," you tell her, trying to look very casual while also not making a move to stand up. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have—I just...I'm sorry, $first." She brings her arms back to chew anxiously at her thumb.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate" and $_temp is 1)[You expect her to offer you a boost up—you're not actually injured, although your ankle throbs painfully—but you feel a wash of weak healing instead. She stands apart from you, one arm around her gut and the other thumb pressed between her teeth. "I'm so sorry, $first." "I-I'm fine," you clarify, but she doesn't seem to acknowledge you. "I shouldn't have—I just...I'm sorry."] "I'll live," you assure her, finally struggling back to your feet. "But I didn't know you could do all that." She smiles around the nail she's chewing, her eyes faintly panicked. "Maybe the office doesn't find out that I can?" she suggests. "I'm not built for street work." "I don't think they'd put you on a beat," you say wryly. "Still..." She eyes you and you nod, perplexed. You can keep a secret if it means that much to her, but you can't imagine why it matters.

"Sure," you tell her with a shrug, brushing the last of the grit and dust from your clothes. "I won't tell any of my other friends at the office." Like anyone your age, you were raised to believe that your workplace was a kind of family, maybe not just because corporate said so but because they were in the same shitty situation as you. Like a lot of things you were told growing up, it's not true: it's like a classroom full of people except you've already been through that stage in your life and you know that it means less than nothing. Tahira smiles faintly at the joke. "Do you hang out with anyone else at the office?" she asks, and you shrug. "It's not like I hate everyone there. Some of them are assholes, some of them are fine, some of them I wouldn't recognise off the street." Just like everywhere. "But you don't talk to anyone," she said, and you shrug, a little defensive. "Do you?" you shoot back, and the expression she makes is...strange. "No. Why would I?" "They're your coworkers too," you remind her, and she shrugs, like somehow that's less true for her than it is for you. "Well, I think this next part is just you and me." You know what she means: the two of you came out today to warm and work off your nerves in preparation for infiltrating the Nervous System.

You square up and face Tahira again, knowing that despite everything the two of you still have time to kill. It's not called the Nervous System officially, but it's real name is one of those meaningless series of words that begs for something snappier in day-to-day conversation. The Nervous System handles intel, internal messaging, external messaging, tips, leads, and rumours; their sister department is Marketing (called Propaganda by employees, not because 'marketing' is as much of a mouthful as the Nervous System's full name, but because marketing is exactly as menacing as a propganda department in a vintage absurdist war novel), and sister here is less meant to evoke the close bond of two siblings and more or less a set of creepy victorian ghost twins armed with novelty-sized scissors. They're paranoid, protective, and in-the-know. They're in-the-know like oracles are in-the-know, which makes it complicated to try to get something like we're looking for information about Siruud the Devourer for no reason by them. That's not strictly fair, though, because that isn't the plan: the plan is to inquire about the annual city supernatural ball. SignetWorks isn't allowed within a hundred feet of it—not every supernatural creature is eligible to be judged by the company, and some are actually beloved cultural figures, mascots, and even gods to their human groups—so of course they have eyes all over it. From there the two of you just have to kind of piece together why it would matter to Siruud now, more than it has any of the past hundred years. Tahira slams you to the ground and tries to pin you, but you manage to wriggle out and reserve the hold. That was an easy one—T seems weirdly off-balance, like her centre of gravity is shifted somewhere she didn't anticipate. She's probably nervous too, just...better at hiding it than you are.

She throws you off with a grunt of annoyance, some of her velvet black hair falling out of her tidy braid. She's sweating all over just like you are, which is gratifying because it'd just be embarrassing if you were the only one winded from the fight. You feign like you're bracing yourself to catch her next attack but pivot at the last second, dropping flat to let her trip over you with a painful kick to the ribs—but ultimately less impact than if she'd hit you head on. You pull her back by her ankle and pin her, your position temporarily victorious but extremely unstable. She's ultimately too tall for an efficient pin, (if: $player_height is "short")[to say nothing of how your height prevents you from doing much more than pressuring her waist so she loses that point of flexion](elseif: $player_height is "tall")[which is really saying something because you're usually at the very least tall enough to sustain a hold](elseif: $player_height is "average")[which usually doesn't bother you as you have plenty of tricks up your sleeve for pinning a creature bigger and heavier than you are], but you're hungry for a win. She taps and you sigh with relief, rolling off of her. You know she could've kept the fight going if she chose. The both of you lie back on the dirty floor, watching the ceiling fans whirl. The energy from before seems to drain from both of you, both magic sparring and physical sparring suddenly losing their appeal as wastes of time. You're both staring down the barrel of trying to infiltrate your own jobs, knowing that if they caught wind—of your arm, of Tahira's interest in Siruud, in the fact that Siruud was ever in the building to begin with—then it all comes crashing down. "It's been about an hour," Tahira says. It doesn't feel like it has, but measurements of time are tricky beasts whose sound and weight are ultimately meaningless against the mishchievous nature of time itself. "We should probably go, to try and head off any unforeseen emergencies." (link: "\"Can't wait.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Damn it. I knew this was coming.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You're right.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

SignetWorks, 01:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 2s)[You didn't know work could be this boring. It's saying a lot, as a former $player_past. (if: $player_past is "bartender")[Bars seem really exciting when all you have to do is enjoy yourself, but in reality it's a delicate system of lights, sound, security, and hospitality. Anyone who feels like it'd be exciting all the time have never experienced a sad drunk trying to bogart your attention to complain about their job while you have a full house.](elseif: $player_past is "bouncer")[The outside of a club is the place where people intending to head inside feel the most entitled to special attention, and may you be struck down if you intend to do your job, keep the line in order, and keep the bar-hopping blackout drunks out. At best you had to be the boss of a queue, and at worst you had to do a customer service routine with someone so drunk they could barely stand up.](elseif: $player_past is "forklift driver")[A warehouse after hours isn't exactly the most social of places, and between the ringing silence and the steady rhythmic sound of industrial machinery working, it was enough to put you to sleep on a regular night—if not for the threat of violent death by forklift, that is, but even that loses its shine at about the halfway point in a shift.](elseif: $player_past is "landfill labourer")[Kids picture the dump as being a lot more exciting than it is and a lot less buereaucratic. The higher ups handled things like the actual management of the surrounding environment and while you sometimes got to work the big machines for crushing...well, a job's a job and there's always stretches of time where all you have to show for nine straight hours is the stinking leachate on your boots and sub-zero temperatures making you feel like your body forgot how to bend.] The waiting room that they put you in an hour ago is definitely worse, and moreso because you hadn't asked a question that you felt warranted an interview with anyone. Tahira seems to have slipped into a meditative state, although meditative doesn't really apply to the hard, coiled stance she's taking. She stares vacantly at nothing, her mind clearly reeling, her eyes glaring blank holes into the tongue-in-cheek vintage poster about loose lips sinking ships. You'd love to know what she's thinking, but you can't shake the feeling that the static silence the two of you slipped into forty-five minutes back is being recorded.]

Tahira had swanned in with you behind her, charmingly prodding for information on the year's ball. Was anyone special in attendance? Any unusual events planned? Was there a guest list that could be referenced? In return she was given a load of non-answers, like that Doctor Ozzy was slated to attend (a demon celebrity but not strictly the notable person that Tahira believed would attract Siruud), there'd be live music from Terrible Connection (a spirit industrial band that possessed the machines they played; although it would be funny to believe that Siruud was a ghost groupie, Terrible Connection probably wasn't a fruitful lead either), that SignetWorks wasn't legally allowed to inquire after a guest list (not outright saying they didn't have one, only saying that Tahira wasn't allowed to see it). She'd asked if they expected any special activity in the surrounding area that night, and the two of you had been escorted to the waiting area because the receptionist was clearly working off a script that Tahira was trying to navigate her off of; the matter of the two of you had been escalated, which was a bad sign. All around you, the Nervous System's friendly little cells flit back and forth, all talking through tiny little earpierces or, in some case, with sleek frames over their eyes for the hearing impaired providing live captions. Regardless, no one looks twice at the two of you, and you wonder if you've been forgotten. "Maybe we should leave," you suggest (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[gravely; better that they forget the two of you were ever here](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[uncertainly; maybe they really did forget you were here and it's time to cut your losses](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[with a groan; you're tired of waiting around for the other shoe to drop onto your throat]. "We need to find out what he was in the city for," she says shortly, and you sigh. "Why?" She turns her head, reminding you of some predator-type bird. It's not....well, part of you wants to say normal but you supposed the kinder thing to say is typical. Tahira isn't usually so erratically annoyed, but clearly she was hoping this would pan out a lot more efficiently than it has. "We're tracking him," she reminds you, her body settling back abruptly. You shake off the ominous feeling that you had at the club when the walls closed in on you. You haven't had time to process that you're still kind of in a hostage situation—it's easier when you and T are just sparring, killing time and waiting for the next part of the plan to proceed. If you thought about it, really gave it some brainpower, you'd be (cycling-link: bind $player_tahira, "hurt", "pissed", "numb").

(if: $player_tahira is "hurt")[You're supposed to be able to trust Tahira, but something is holding her back from you...and you suspect that something is her desire to use you to get to Siruud. Who else would help her after all? You wanted to believe the two of you were a little closer than that.](elseif: $player_tahira is "pissed")[You're clearly a pawn, and you were too stupid to see it. You were too naive to think that Tahira was like every other boss you ever had, and now she's snuck up on you and done worse than cut your benefits or fire you without severance: now you're trapped, and you don't doubt she'll throw you into a pit of lava in a second if it gave her a stepping stone to get to Siruud. What you don't get is why](elseif: $player_tahira is "numb")[How are you supposed to react to something like this? How were you supposed to anticipate that you're only work friend, technically your superior but always concerned with getting you the pay you were owed, never letting the company grind you under its heel for its own benefit, would turn on you? And not only turn on you, but trap you in a curse you suspect she could break if she wanted to, all to get to one guy? There's no manual for this.]. It's too much to contemplate, not when you need to focus on the task at hand. Maybe if you nab Siruud, everything will go back to normal: (if: $player_origin is "plucky")[you have to believe it, or else what is there left to believe in?](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[you're not sure you believe that anymore, though.](elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[you can barely resist sneering even at the briefest, completely involuntary naivete.] "I know that," you tell her, your voice as low as you can make it. You'd prefer if you could somehow pull off the illusion of just not speaking, but looking like you're doing some invisible ventriloquism that she probably won't be able to hear clearly anyway would only look sketchier, you think. "But I think we should bail on this lead." "It's fine," she says shortly. "We're headed up the ladder." "You know, sometimes ladders have some real shit at the top of them. Roofs to fall off of; creature hatcheries." You've never climbed a fire escape for fun and enrichment, is what you're trying to convey, but it's hard when you're trying to keep your tone flat and your conversation so brief that the two of you could be talking about the weather, for all they know. "If we need to climb, then we climb. I'm not scared of these weirdos and neither should you be." You gauge that to be accurate: Tahira isn't afraid, and her tension is clearly more annoyance than apprehension. You'd love for her to have a little apprehension, actually. (link: "\"I'm not voting you onto the workplace safety committee.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I'm not scared!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You're not listening to me!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["What?" she asks with a frown, and you feel a queasiness as your joke fails to land, like you were trying to convey something genuine that she missed. Maybe you were, but her doors slam closed on it. "I'm just saying, fear is how the human body gauges risk," you tell her, uncomfortable with the tonal shift you've had to do. "We're in an office. It's going to be fine," she repeats stubbornly.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["Then prove it," she challenges you, and you grit your teeth. "We don't have to take unnecessary risks to prove anything to anyone," you scold her. "And I'm not letting you bait me into putting myself in danger." "What danger? No one's here besides our coworkers," she reminds you, and you look around derisively. None of these high ranking busybodies have anything to do with you or what you do.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I'm listening, but what I'm hearing is a kneejerk reaction to fear. This is my arena, $first, so just let me work," she says, an air of confidence to her voice that she's putting on to put you at ease. It doesn't work, because you're not six and haven't expressed distrust for her ability to gauge monsters under the bed. "Have you ever considered you're too invested in this to correctly gauge risk?" you ask shortly, and she smiles. "Nope."] You turn away from her and (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[into the eyes of a friendly middle aged man. You twitch, the most surprise you're willing to offer this weird guy who snuck up on you. "Can I help you?" you ask shortly](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[right into the pie face of a man who hadn't been there a second ago. "Wh-oa, 'kay," you burst, flinching back like he went for your face](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[right into the friendly, smiling face of a man who definitely wasn't there a second ago, prompting you to let out a little shriek and try to climb your chair. "What the hell?!" you blurt before you can stop yourself]. "Are you two the folks I'm looking for?" he asks, acting like he didn't just emerge from nothingness. Tahira stands fluidly, holding out her hand to shake his. "We're from Retrieval, and we have suspicions about this year's ball," she says unflinchingly. "Ooh, I love a rumour. Do tell," he says, asking her to dish like she just hinted at a torrid office romance. "Nothing concrete," she demures, and you watch the weird guy lose interest in her in real time. "You understand that coming to us with nebulous rumours to try and exchange them for actual information is quite the manouever?" he says, and Tahira's barely contained impatience becomes more visible. She's not very good at this, you think, a little awed. She's always been a little infallible to you, but if she's got a ten step plan here, it's not working. (link: "\"We're not exchanging anything.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Don't think of it as an exchange!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"We're not allowed near the ball.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

His head turns slowly over to you, like a snake looking down at a nest full of fat eggs. You don't flinch. (if: $_reaction is "irritable")["That would be against regulations," you remind him. "We're just eager to make sure that all this talk we're hearing out on the street is just talk; any deviation from posted plans for the ball could create trouble all over the city." Your skin crawls as you say it: you sound like a real enforcer, but it does its job and he smiles cordially.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["If we do start thinking about it like that then we're all in a heap of trouble," you remind him, hoping your smile is just as empty and menacing as his own. "Regulation prevents us from pursuing leads ourselves, but there's no harm in hitting the books to make sure everything's above board." You practically feel a mucus layer spring up over your skin, your voice is so slimy, but it works: his smile returns, cordial and now friendly.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Honesty is the best policy in this case—to a point. Tahira hit him with a lot of winking and nudging right away which he threw up a wall against. "We don't want to cause problems on the street, so we were hoping to check the guest list to make sure nothing controversial is gunna cause trouble for the city." You don't think that—the ball's barely ever a blip on your radar if only because the kinds of high-risk targets you hunt wouldn't be caught dead playing dress up in mainstream society—but this man needs to think you think that, and you think he does.] "Well, why didn't you say so?" he asks, and Tahira smiles tightly. "I'll go fetch a guest list." He walks away, clearly visible—which feels intentional rather than incidental like it is for everyone else—and you relax back into your seat. Tahira glances at you. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["You went too hard," you tell her, not accusatory but on edge for reasons you can't articulate. Maybe the sloppiness of it all—she didn't tell a good lie, she didn't hang on through rejection, and she might be too close to this to be thinking clearly. She presses her lips together, not nodding but not denying what you're saying either.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Whose arena is it now?" you ask teasingly, and she rolls her eyes with a smile. It bothers you, but you can't put your finger on why—maybe just the uneasy knowledge that you can't rely on her to do what she's normally good at, because the mere idea of Siruud changes her.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["You're welcome," you tell her, almost uncharacteristically sarcastic. You try to make a practice of saying what you mean, but you get the idea that if you don't prompt her then she'll never tell you what you need to hear. You wonder how you're going to prompt her to tell you that she understands that she's coming in way too hot and painting a target on the both of you, but of course instead of either thanks or sorry you get a quiet smile.]

The weird guy—whose name you never caught, was not offered, and that frankly you don't want to know nor think he's interested in telling you—comes back and makes a show of putting the guest list in your hands. It's a bundle of about two hundred pages which is way more than you needed as it includes names like (the Hopeless), Marak and (the Penitent), Ozrik, which as far as you know are just people who handed in their RSVP and don't sound particularly menacing at all. "Fresh off the photocopier!" he declares. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[Not unless their photocopier works much faster than the one in the Retrieval department. "Thanks," you say, not interested enough in prolonging the conversation anymore than you have to with chitchat.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["What kind of gas do they put in your copier?" you ask, galled as you flip through the pages. "I'd be here 'til midnight printing out this kind of novella in Retrieval." He smiles faintly at the joke but it occurs to you that he wasn't being serious and isn't interested in bantering anymore. "Well, thanks for the hard work."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Thank-you," you say compulsively, your eyes glued to the page. "This has been a big help." You doubt his freshly copied story but also don't believe that they keep a lot of copies around to hand out to random employees; regardless, it's not an important truth and you're more concerned with leaving, right now.] "You'll remember your friends in the Nervous System, won't you?" he asks, which you think is a spectacularly menacing thing to say. "Sure." How could you forget the creepy guy you met in the creepy guy department? He turns to Tahira, his smile fixed in place. She smiles back flatly but has evidently decided to let you lead this expedition. "Would you agree?" he prompts, and the smile vanishes from her face. "Agree with what?" "That you won't forget your friends in the Nervous System?" "$first already answered you," she says flatly. "The more friends the merrier." T's mouth is pressed closed, her eyes narrowed. (link: "The weird guy's being weird. What a surprise.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Shift uncomfortably.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Please let this moment end.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[Every second the two of you spend here feels like an eternity that you can't escape, some sort of punishment from the gods of time. You glance at Tahira who's glaring over at him and you get it, you do, but you'd also like to get out of the office now, before someone asks you to take your gloves off.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Tahira stays silent and the weird guy keeps staring at her and you feel like you're watching a car wreck. Nobody moves. You glance at Tahira and she's staring down the weird guy with narrowed eyes but not saying anything, which makes you feel like you should say something but then you would have to explain to another, very unsettling adult why his behaviour is completely unhinged.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You sigh a little, like you expected this stand-off; you don't really have it in you to expect much of anything right now, because the panic-pistons in your brain are chugging full speed to try and trick your body into bolting with the paper's clutched to your chest before anyone asks why you haven't taken your gloves off. Tahira just stands there, silently staring, and weird guy just stands there, smiling placidly.] "T?" you ask, and she looks at you. She looks back at weird guy, who doesn't say anything to release the awkwardness of the moment. "I'll remember you," she says shortly. You're relieved, but too soon. "And the favour you owe us?" he asks, and she frowns again. "Look, we can just hand the papers back if it's gunna be this big of a deal," you say shortly. You don't know what's setting Tahira off but you know that between weird guy and her, you're team T. "No," she says, too quick. It's like a cartoon where you brought your sheltered friend to buy a car and forgot to explain to them what negotiation is. "We came here for these papers." "I know, Tahira." Weird guy smiles and she grits her teeth. "Fine then. I owe you one," she says shortly, then turns on her heel and storms out. You follow, because that was weird but the Nervous System is weirder.

The elavator closes slowly without the satisfaction of a slammed door, and Tahira fumes in the silence between the two of you. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["What the hell was that?" you ask shortly, trying not to sound accusatory and failing.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["So that was weird, right?" you ask, hoping she'll explain literally anything about what just happened.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I'm sorry," you say, although you're not sure you were the one that tanked that interaction. It's probably what she wants to hear.] "That bastard," she hisses, which seems like a lot because he was weird but like...that's it. The two of you were uncomfortable, largely because the two of you were trying to be deceptive and failing, and that's about it. He didn't even call security. "T, you need to step back and take a breath," you tell her firmly. "He could have reported us right then and there." "He won't, because he wants the favour," she snapped, and you whirl on her in disbelief. "So tell him to fuck off when he asks for it and if he tries to report you for taking the guest list, make something up," you tell her. "There was no reason for you to let that go on as long as it did. We looked unhinged!" "You don't get it," she snapped. (link: "\"And who's fault is that?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Well sorry!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"That's not fair, Tahira.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["You're the one who's acting weird and won't give me the information I need. I'm just trying to help, Tahira, you're the one setting up spikes in the middle of the road then snapping at me when I drive over them."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I'm out here trying to help you while you snap at me about what I do and don't get, like it's my fault! We could have been in and out of there but you decided you didn't want to play nice with Weird Guy."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I'm just trying to help you, and I was doing a good job! You were the one sabotaging that exchange, not me, and I don't deserve to stand here and get told that I'm the one who doesn't get what's going on. You can tell me or not, but don't criticize me for not knowing."] "Help me?" she demands, her eyes blown just wide enough that you're comfortable in the assumption that she's offering you about as much perspective as she offers Jade, Ginger, and Poppy. Siruud is her white whale; you wonder if the girls know more than you do. "You're trapped in here with me, $first. I don't pretend any differently and you shouldn't either." "And is that what you want?" you ask, exasperated. "You want this to be how we tackle this? You, keeping me at arms length, and then getting frustrated when I can't keep up?" "I can't trust you!" she snaps, and you recoil. The elevator goes quiet again. Two floors pass before she tries again. "That isn't what I meant, but you've got me cornered." (link: "\"Is that how you view what's happening here?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Right, right. I'm the one with the power here.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Fuck off.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["You're my boss, you're not giving me all the information, who knows if you plan to actually fix my hand. I just can't stop fucking winning, can I?" you ask, your eyes burning a hole into the floor selection panel.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Be honest," you demand, your voice shaking, and she looks away. You do too, your eyes watering and making the numbers on the floor selection panel blur and run. "That's what I thought," you whisper hoarsely.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[You can't think of anything more articulate to say, the blood pounding through your head like war drums. You stare at the floor selection panel without seeing it, your breath coming hard as you try to hide how affected you are.](set: $tahira_suss to it + 1) "$first—" Tahira starts, frustrated, but then the elevator slows and stops on the next floor, obeying the will of the call button with unusual force for a machine that isn't supposed to make abrupt stops. The two of you freeze like prey animals, your heads turning to watch the doors slide open: Calrin Choi stands there with a thick envelope in her hands. Calrin is the watch dog for the CEO, the ever-opened eye, unblinking and omniprescent. The fact that she's here, with her sharp black bob and face that looks like no one ever told her she was supposed to sleep, means trouble. "For you, Agent $last," she says briskly, in a tone that says in no uncertain terms that her pleasure at seeing you is mostly just the effort she saved trying to hunt you down on your own turf. "Package for you." She holds her arm out straight to hand you an orange envelope full of papers. You don't reach for it immediately, but nothing happens: the elevator door doesn't try to close, Calrin doesn't retract her hand, and Tahira stays perfectly still. When you do move your hand, like an experiment to see if there's a hidden guillotine set up to chop it off once you're dumb enough to try to break the tension, nothing continues to happen; you take the envelope sharply, and Choi nods. "Good evening, Agent $last. Tahira," she adds with a nod. T nods back.

The elevator door closes and the two of you continue your descent to the ground floor. With the gait of two people being actively hunted for sport, the two of you dive for the front doors as soon as the lift stops, as if no one currently inside the building is able to pursue you out into the street. The cold, diesel-y air of the street is ambrosial compared to the inoffensive but malicious smell of the office, and the two of you drink it in. "Fuck," Tahira whispers. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Fuck," you agree. (if: $player_origin is "plucky")[You've never been this stressed out in your life—the heroes of your childhood never has a chapter about feeling like they were going to stress-vomit.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You feel a wave of nausea and clenched your eyes shut, trying to force your body to shut off its panic response—you can't work like this.](elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[You crouch down to immediately put your head between your knees to suppress the growing nausea and panic. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. You've been here before and you'll be here again.]](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Arguably I'm the one fucked, but I appreciate your concern," you say, slouching hard against the cold brick of the exterior building. (if: $player_origin is "plucky")[You can't help but think that you don't look like a proper hero; more like a winded runner.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You can't help but feel like you're raw meat, on the street and so obviously in distress. Nothing bad's happened yet, but you can't shake the feeling that it's possible.](elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[You've been here before—on the street, on the brink of a full panic, absolutely out of ideas and feeling like a cornered animal. It's nice, you guess, to have company this time.]](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Why did it have to be her?" you ask faintly, not a question specifically directed at Tahira but at the universe for how unfair it is. (if: $player_origin is "plucky")[How many monsters do the heroes of old need to face before their trials are over? You have a bad feeling you've barely started.](elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[Your bad luck streak, the one you thought you might have shaken or at least weakened with the addition of consistent income, seems to be back in full force and out for revenge, and you struggle to force back tears.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You feel exposed and alone, not missing the significance of Choi handing the envelope to you and not acknowledging Tahira until after you'd taken it. This is your hydra, and you're not Herakles.]] "What's in the envelope?" Tahira asks. "Who cares? It's not good, whatever it is," you say, staring down at it in your hands. It doesn't have much, but it doesn't need much to blow up your whole shit immediately. "Maybe you should open it," she suggests, and you turn and look at her. (link: "\"Is that an order?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Are you sure you want to know?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What do you care?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Of course I care," she protests. "$first, I...it's been heavy, today." "It's gunna get heavier," you remind her shortly. Confronting a demon isn't gunna be breezy compared to showing up for a shift as usual with slightly underhanded intentions. "I know," she says, biting her lip. "I know." She doesn't say anything else, and you sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["No! No, I'm not trying to—that isn't what I want," she says, at least seeming genuinely distressed that you assumed that. "Then what do you want?" you ask, and she doesn't have an answer for that. Slowly, she stops pretending like she's trying to think of one at all, and you sigh.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Why wouldn't I be?" she asks, and you have to give her that one. She doesn't get what you're asking, but you're sure she doesn't want to give you an unsupervised side quest in this adventure. "If I start getting inconvenient, it'll make it harder to cut me loose," you tell her frankly, and she looks taken aback. "That's not—I'm not waiting to cut you loose!" she insists. You don't ask if she would, though, sighing instead.] Like the proverbial plaster, you do it all at once, tearing open the envelope and let the contents slip out into your hands. There's a couple small font pages—you glance at them and find that its your promotion paperwork, approved and stamped—but the primary piece, you think, is a small card with a date and time written on it. "No," you say out loud, before you can swallow it back down. "What is it?" Tahira asks.

You hand her the card, feeling its weight leave your hand like the unimaginable burden it is. Your promotion has been noted, and more than noted, flagged: instead of human resources interrogating you about your relationship with Tahira and then taking your boss into another room to confirm that nothing weird was going on, something much, much worse has happened. "I should have known," you groan, starting to pace unconsciously. "The second Choi showed up." Tahira's jaw tightens. "Adrien Bright wants to see you," she says, and you nod: the reclusive CEO wants you to show up in their office for a chat about your recent promotion. "How do they know....?" she asks softly, and you groan like the street is the open sea during a gut-churning hurricane. "Who passed it along to the CEO?" "It could have been anyone," you say helplessly, throwing your arms up in the air. "Maybe someone is on to us! Maybe someone's mad I got promoted! Maybe they've got tags on you, or me, or maybe they have tags on the supervisor who approved the promotion and we're caught in the crossfire of a totally unrelated beef!" "$first!" Tahira says sharply, and you turn to her—she reaches for your hand, squeezing tightly. "Breathe." (link: "\"Don't act like you care.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Easy for you to say!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I don't know how!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["I do care!" she says fiercely, squeezing your hand so tight that it forces your brain to slip out of a panic, just for a second. "If you don't trust me about anything else, trust me on that. I don't want to abandon you when it's convenient, and I don't want to throw you under the bus." "I just...what do I—what do we do?" you ask.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["You're not the one on the chopping block, are you? No one asked to meet you, Choi barely even looked at you—" you become more and more certain with every fleeting moment that it's you, for real. They know, they know everything, and they're bringing you up to the tippy top of the tower to throw you off of it. "$first! Breathe!" she snaps, and it shakes something loose. You obey, taking the breath she asks for. "It's me," you say softly. "I know it."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I don't think I can," you continue, your chest feeling hot and tight. "Everything is falling down and we're getting nowhere and—" "Shh. Listen, $first. In and out," she says softly, and you clamp your mouth shut and obey. It's slow going, but soon you find that your focus on trying to do it properly breaks the spiral you were slipping into. "You're doing great," she tells you, and you laugh bitterly. "For now."] "First, we need to make a plan for this meeting," she says, firmly but sympathetic. "We won't let them sneak up on us." She put her hand under your chin and tilts your head up, and your pulse fires with incendiary adrenaline. She leans in and kisses your forehead, and you feel a wash of healing magic move swiftly through your body. Tahira pulls back quickly, but your forehead feels like a (link: "glowing ember")[(goto: "trans")].

SignetWorks INC., ??? (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[You avoid the office as best you can. This has been true since you were hired, and sure the alternative to being at a desk is having someone elbow deep in your innards trying to slow you down long enough that you simply aren't able to disintegrate them down into their base components for convenient storage...but, well, that's part of the reason you avoid the office. There's a divide between the employees on the street and the pencil pushers in the building. It's like a TV jock/nerd divide, except more insidious because rather than kids play-acting at hierarchy, it's a group of adults being artificially categorized. (if: $player_origin is "plucky")[You'd be stronger together, but the company seems to prefer keeping the communication between departments minimal.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[It's dumb, but the office workers definitely treat you like they've signed on hook, line, and sinker to the idea that they're better than you.](elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")[Same as it ever was at every level of society—if people knew how much they had in common, hierarchy would collapse in a heartbeat, which the people at the top of the current hierarchy hate hearing.] Some nights outside are hard, but at least you know if you cross paths with another Retrieval Officer, they won't pretend not to see you: the only desk jock who remembers that you're a real person is Tahira. And look where that got her; (if: $route is "s")[you're still lying to her about Siruud.](elseif: $route is "t")[her piece is in check but neither of you can tell which direction the blow is coming from.] You glance, for the tenth time, up at the skyscraper.]

It looks like every other office building in the world. It's tall and overly large, really eating into their overhead but doing something for the self esteem of Bright and probably their next five lowest executives. It's made of steel and windows, and you know from T that there's runes engraved in the very bones of the building, some poured with gold where they're visible. You look down at your phone, overwhelmed, and see both that you're here way (cycling-link: bind $_time, "early", "late") and that (if: $route is "s")[Siruud](elseif: $route is "t")[Tahira] texted you. (if: $route is "s")[ Wait, what? You check again and the contact says Siruud which seems like just the kind of stupid ass thing Siruud would do as a demon currently wanted by law enforcement, whose partner is supposed to be apprehending him but is absolutely not doing that. What if Bright saw the screen?](elseif: $route is "t")[You expected her to hold out a little longer before the nervous texting started, but for as calm and reassuring as she was when you got served your own paperwork, she's devolved significantly since. You get it: it's hard to believe that this is a coincidence or any real concern about foul play on behalf of the company. There's not a lot of human resources support at the violating human resources company.] (if: $route is "t")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Don't be nervous, $first.</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Or, maybe be a little nervous. Bright expects it.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">(cycling-link: bind $_temp, "I will...try lol", "a+ advice ty", "i feel like i am gunna puke n die")</div> </div> </div>}](elseif: $route is "s")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">Siruud</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">hi are yuo therr yet</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">(cycling-link: bind $_temp, "??!?!?!?!????", "take a selfie bro", "wtf ru doing")</div> </div> </div>}]

{(if: $_temp is "I will...try lol" or $_temp is "??!?!?!?!????")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")](elseif: $_temp is "a+ advice ty" or $_temp is "wtf ru doing")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")](elseif: $_temp is "i feel like i am gunna puke n die" or $_temp is "take a selfie bro")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")] (if: $route is "t")[ (if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Is that a good lol, or a distress signal?</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">it's best if we don't talk about it...lol</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">You'll be absolutely fine. I changed my mind, don't buy in to Bright's reputation.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">i might be bought in.</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">No! You're brave and cool and not at all nervous !!!!!</div> </div> </div>}] (elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">No! Stay strong!</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">I changed my mind, don't buy into the Bright hype!</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">oh so now it's just hype? do you know something I dont?</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">I know you can handle this 💪</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">boo lol</div> </div> </div>}] (elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Okay, better advice: DON'T buy into Bright hype.</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Maybe you'll throw them off.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">how coy should i be?</div> <div class="self-texts">scared shitless in a cool way?</div> <div class="self-texts">strong n silent type?</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">I trust your judgement ;)</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">helpful, thnx x)</div> </div> </div>}]] (elseif: $route is "s")[ (if: $_reaction is "irritable")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">Siruud</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">i am texting you.</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">I am texting yuo.</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">I am texting you.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">yeah I get it. why.</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">why am i texting you</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">yeah?</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">yeah what</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">wtf is going onnnnnnnnnn</div> </div> </div>}] (elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">Siruud</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">wjat</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">are you insane?!</div> <div class="self-texts">where'd you get a phone?!</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">1 question at time pleadw.</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">pleasr</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">PLESE</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">WHAT IS GOING ON?!</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">i am texting you.</div> </div> </div>}] (elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">Siruud</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">wjhat is that.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">a pic of urself lmao</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">why</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">so i know its u?</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">your phone says itcs me</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">send me a damn photo!</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts">no. its me.</div> </div> </div>}]]} The alarm you set (if: $_time is "early")[to tell you when you were regular early instead of inconveniently early](elseif: $_time is "late")[to tell you when you were so late that you could feasibly say that there was some kind of big event that kept you away instead of you just meandering in late] goes off and you jam your phone in your pocket, setting aside (if: $route is "s")[the demon whose hands are too big for the touch screen](elseif: $route is "t")[any hope for support from Tahira]. Your grace period is over and now it's time to face the yawning unknown.

You press your freshly printed replacement ID card ((css: 'font-size: 1.2em')[$first] $last) to the safety glass covering the front desk, and the low buzzer sets off typical shift-dread in your gut. You're not here to work, though; (if: $route is "s")[officially, you're researching high-level demons with Tahira's permission, although you've kind of been avoiding her](elseif: $route is "t")[and if anyone in the Nervous System blabbed, you have the excuse that you're monitoring this year's ball for unusual activity]. (if: $route is "s")[You jam your gloved hand into your pocket and try not to look nervous that one word from your abandoned boss could sink your ship.](elseif: $route is "t")[It's kind of true, and you hang onto that as you pass by the security cameras you know are there.] Bright's office is, of course, on the uppermost floor of the building. It seems strange that executives would value complete inaccessibility over basic safety. First floor is first out on the street, theoretically: maybe they have some secret getaway plan in case of emergency, a helicopter on perpetual standby waiting to hear about a fire or a hostage situation. It's the aesthetic of it, you decide, as you wait for an awfully long time on an elevator. The unnecessarily slow ascent, the inaccessibility of the executive offices in general, the pindrop silence as you step out into a world totally removed from even the streaky, crumb-scattered linoleum of the offices just below, all create an atmosphere not unlike walking into a fancy restaurant in a hoodie. It's to stoke fear. (link: "You're not afraid.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You're like, a teensie bit afraid.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "And it's definitely stoked fear in you.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[What the hell do you have to be afraid of? After the month you've been having, what's so scary about a bunch of humans overcompensating and trying to make you feel bad about it? You've got (if: $route is "s")[a powerful albeit slightly out of touch archdemon on your side;](elseif: $route is "t")[a powerful albeit out of her depth priestess on your side;] what the fuck does Bright have?](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[It's not even— it's not that you're scared of being in fancy places! You're a little self-conscious, sure, and you don't know what the hell you're here for and damn it but you really do have like, this...panic response to the impending unknown shame of criticism. You'd love to be chill right now, but you just sort of feel like you got caught pissing your pants in kindergarten and now everybody knows.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You have an arm that looks like you're the only person on the planet who knows what lava feels like, you're (if: $route is "s")[aiding and abetting a known escaped criminal who is also an archdemon,](elseif: $route is "t")[lowkey helping your boss deceive the company in a lot of ways, up to and including hiding the escape of a high priority criminal,] and just in general it's not like you have a flawless record to fall back on. If (if: $player_past is "bartender")[bartending](elseif: $player_past is "bouncer")[security work](elseif: $player_past is "forklift driver")[warehouse work](elseif: $player_past is "landfill labourer")[working at the dump] taught you anything before you moved on, even if you were the perfect worker it wouldn't matter. If Bright wants to reprimand you, to punish you, for something they only suspect is happening, they can and they will and no amount of HR trips will fix it.] You stop in front of a hilariously insignificant looking desk, like high angle photo of a kitten in a human sized kitchen, shifting awkwardly as Calrin Choi herself sits perfectly still at the front desk, having wordlessly waited for you to approach. "Welcome to the offices of Adrien Bright, Agent $last," she says. "You do...secretary work?" you ask. You've never really contemplated what Choi's actual job description is, only that she heralds attention from on high. "I do what is required of me," she responds placidly. "Please take a seat in the waiting area and someone will be right with you."

The waiting space is borderline hostile, with the sort of modern art couches that look just enough like art installation pieces that you're not sure whether or not you should sit on them. When you do, because fuck their design sensibilities, it's deeply uncomfortable; it's harshly stiff, like they padded it with more wood, and seems to laugh at the idea of comfortably reclining. More hostile design, more intentional inaccessibility. Choi reapproaches, which seems deeply weird as she's the one who told you to go sit and wait. "Follow me, please," she says, and you stand. "Didn't you say...?" you start slowly, not really sure why you're bothering to press the issue. "Bright is ready for you. Follow me," she says, her customer service voice wavering. You put up your hands and obey, letting her lead you into a large, empty space with a desk on the right, beside the enormous, wall-sized window. It's stacked with thick books and is undoubtedly the busiest area in the room. Besides the desk, there's some shelves on the wall bearing plants, herbs, and crystals; low bookshelves are stacked tightly with empty-spined books in neutral colours, and there's some bland landscapes hung on the wall and framed in black that you almost don't even notice. Nobody's here.

(set: $tick to 5)Calrin has already left the room with a faint click, and there's nowhere for you to even attempt to sit; the desk doesn't have a chair for some reason, so you take to wandering. If this were a movie where you and (if: $route is "t")[Tahira](elseif: $route is "s")[Siruud] actually had a plan, it'd probably be prudent to start snooping around for some dirt, looking for anything that could help: (if: $route is "t")[some sort of instruction set for tracking a particularly powerful demon](elseif: $route is "s")[some sort of convenient document that would plainly lay out Tahira's beef with Siruud], some magic rock that could break your binding, or even some idea why Bright is suddenly aware of your existence. In a movie, just such a thing would be in a locked drawer, and you'd jimmy it open just a heartbeat before Bright entered the room. Instead you learn that all the thick, nameless books are fakes. How tacky! You're just about to wander to the window, to stare out at the exclusive and spectacular view of Sanctum City's night life— the softly blurred tangerine streetlights, the angelic white glow of all nighters, the faint jagged shadows of the high rise buildings against the dye-black sky— when you hear the softest squeal of the door hinges. Like someone is trying to open the door without you (link-reveal: "hearing it.")[ (live: 0.25s)[(set: $tick to it - 1)(if: $tick is 0 or $tick < 0)[(set: $_tempmiss to 1)(stop:)(goto: $nextpassage)]] (link: "Evasive action, now.")[(set: $_tempmiss to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Check who it is.")[(set: $_tempmiss to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_tempmiss is 0)[You don't think: your body drops to the floor just as a light green spell dissolves harmlessly against the window, and you roll so that you're in one of the darker areas of the office. You have only seconds to crawl your way over to the desk and duck underneath, acquiring an extremely temporary shield while you try to figure out what's happening. You peer carefully under the desk, trying to catch sight of who's standing in the doorway. The angle is bad, though, and the lights in the reception area have gone out which make optics on that end of the office much worse. You can hear footsteps, but in an office this large? The steps echo unsettlingly, making it hard to place them as precisely as you'd like. It's too bad for them then, that you've done better with much worse. You wait until you're sure they're at least close, then slide out against the desk and with both arms, shove it as hard as you can. It slides across the polished wood floor and hits the edge of the rug, immediately crashing to the floor and sending drawers and papers flying. A human figure jumps back, either in surprise or as a precaution although the desk hadn't been heading towards them, and in the same movement that straightens you back up, you centre yourself for casting. (if: $player_magic is "frost")[You aim for their feet, making sure to bind the ice up their legs to stop them from stepping out of their shoes, and then spread it out across the rug for solidity. Now you know where they are, and roll quickly out of the way of another smokey spell. You don't bother to get to your feet, instead bracing yourself on your knees and sending the frost around their shoulders and down, to bind their arms at their side. Once their arm movement is limited, you can find their hands and turn them into fat blocks of ice.](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[Your aim is to disorient them, since overpowering an enemy is no good if you quick-roast them to death. With two quick gestures, you light both the desk and the rug on fire around your mystery visitor in a neat circle, funneling them towards the only space where the rug meets the wall. Keeping your flames high and quick, you manage to disorient them enough that they can be trapped. You shape your flame into a tight, surrounding wall and bring yourself to your trembling legs: you may know the fire, flush against your heart, but smoke in a confined space is dangerous.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[Now, you don't usually deal with capture of a full, functional human being. Poisons, gases, miasmas, they're meant to drain a person: or more correctly, they're meant to drain a supernatural creature with improved strength, stamina, and agility when compared to a human. You'll never know what's happening if you end up reducing this stranger to a total husk, which means that you have to use your least lethal spell to disorient them enough that they can't do any more harm. Carefully, you let a sickly green smoke curl out towards them: sensibly they step away to avoid it, and you use that dance to tire them out until they hit the ground with the arms up and a wheeze.]](elseif: $_tempmiss is 1)[You turn, your heart fluttering in your chest, and see...no one. The lights from the reception area have gone dark, and that end of the office is affected by the lack of outside light. There's a human figure, but that's all you see before a sickly green light envelops you and you hit the floor shoulder-first. Nothing is dislocated, as near as you can tell, but you can't move. Even your face muscles feel paralyzed, the simple act of scowling lost to you. You can hear slow, unaffected footsteps approaching, although the figure is obscured by the darkness still. Well, too bad for them: this isn't even the first time you've been taken by surprise like this. You wait until they hit the rug, and then you teach them that someone who can't move their arms can still channel magic through the myriad of stupid crystals dotting the room. (if: $player_magic is "frost")[It only takes one glass pop for you to realise that force is lost to you: the crystals can't handle the pressure, and you can't aim without them. That means that you need to keep them on the move and away from you, preferably unable to aim at you. Instead, you create a hard coat of ice around them which they quickly sidestep. The ice then turns to spears, stopping the easy dance out of the way that the stranger was making. Every time they fall into a rhythm, you switch it up, until finally you regain full use of your arms and stop it altogether, freezing them in place.](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[Unless you want to lose your only lead to a fiery death, you have to play your hand carefully: luckily when it comes to fire, caution is relative. The rug around the intruder goes up in flames, which quickly fade and jump higher in a different direction. You just need time, so you make it: you drive the stranger away from you and keep them running, until finally the paralysis drops and you leap to your feet just as they drop to their knees with a wheeze that confirms the evergreen lesson that smoke inhalation is bad.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[If you go too crazy, lose your steady hand, then there's the chance you're going to throw a poisonous miasma into the vents and kill a whole floor's worth of people if not more. It's part and parcel with blight magic: less cartoon fairy, more supervillain. That drops your options down to playing keep away. You let miasma appear and dissolve the bursts of cloudy green gas, forcing them to stay on the move and most importantly, away from you. When you finally regain control of your limbs, you throw yourself clumsily to your feet and blast them with a very mild poison: they drop to their knees in surrender, hacking painfully.]] Now you have to decide what to do with them: you can't lean on your magic without hurting them, but you also doubt they're going to be willing to have it out with you openly. While you mull it over, your hands starting to tremble, your captive rolls their shoulder. "Satisfactory," the stranger says decisively, straightening their glasses(if: $player_magic is "frost")[ in a stunning use of their hands: the ice you'd encased them in has apparently conveniently melted]. (link: "\"Shut up.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"W-What?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"That's it?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You're out of breath, (if: $_tempmiss is 0)[wired on adrenaline](elseif: $_tempmiss is 1)[sore from the paralysis spell], and ever mindful that there's always a chance you're gunna lose your prisoner. You're not in the mood for games, especially because you have to crawl home still and tell (if: $route is "t")[Tahira](elseif: $route is "s")[Siruud] that it absolutely was some kind of trap, which'll be embarrassing as all hell...(if: $route is "t")[not that T will make you feel bad](elseif: $route is "s")[and Siruud won't let you forget it].](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Your brain is still firing on mostly adrenaline and the relief of having...you know, survived. You'll need to tell (if: $route is "t")[T that it was a trap. On one hand it's not like either of you expected it, but on the other you would've liked to come out of the experience looking...cooler, braver, stronger, less of a total weak link. Sure, you and Tahira have a weird bond right now, but nothing that a few sweeping heroics wouldn't fix...](elseif: $crone_siruud is 1)[Siruud that it was a trap. He's gunna be absolutely intolerable about how he was right and it was dangerous. You...regret, maybe—definitely, actually, that he was right, but also that you couldn't...put on a better show. It's not like you didn't expect a trap, but now you have to go back and tell him you got got, instead of how you swept in and effortlessly parried all their efforts against you and you're actually really brave and strong and not at all a total liability...] Focus, $first.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Are you gunna go for trying to make me like you, or turn it around to being the affable rogue who has nothing personal against me, it's just business? Because if you are, I want a better grade." You don't know why you keep talking, because you're out of breath. The high of a fight can only keep you going for so long, and you're wasting that energy trying to one-up this stranger when you'd rather be at home (if: $croute is "t")[with Tahira's strong, warm presence, like nothing in the world can go wrong because she defies it to](elseif: $crone_siruud is 1)[lazily arguing with Siruud while the two of you fumble around each other in your too-small apartment].] "Well within predicted parameters," they mumble firmly, seemingly ignoring you. (if: $player_magic is "flame")[(if: $_temp is 0)[They stand, seemingly unaffected by the smoke inhalation that you were relying on grounding them, and wave their hand carelessly to dismiss your flames. The magic returns to your arms with a soundless thump, like a heavy book dropping on the floor. They stride over to where the desk once stood, and with a wave of their hand it flies back into place, suddenly undamaged with all papers in the proper place. There's also a fucking chair now.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[They stand, completely unaffected by the smoke inhalation that you thought was working in your favour, and wave their hand carelessly to dismiss your flames. The magic returns to your arms with a soundless thump, like a heavy book dropping on the floor, as they proceed to calmly walk over to their desk to take a seat in the chair that definitely wasn't there before.]](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[Suddenly your ice is water, and they're not even wet. (if: $_temp is 0)[They wave their hand and the desk flies back into place, with every document following it in turn, and sit lightly in the chair that definitely hadn't been there before.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[They brush some soft frost off their jacket, making their way over to sit at the desk that definitely hadn't had a chair before.]](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[You thought that being literally blighted would slow them down a little, but apparently not: they stand like they were totally unaffected the whole time, and straight their jacket. (if: $_temp is 0)[With a wave of their hand, their desk returns to its spot on the floor, and they take a seat in the chair that hadn't been there before.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[They step confidently over to the desk and take a seat in the chair that definitely hadn't been there before, watching you with a distracted air of interest.]] (link: "What the fuck what the fuck what the—")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What, no guest seating?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Stand perfectly still.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[Sometimes spells fail. Sometimes they fail and your adversaries pretend like you didn't fail to make you vulnerable. It usually doesn't happen for apparently no fucking reason whatsoever. You watch as they gesture broadly outwards, and suddenly there's a chair for you too.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[They nod, polite and little else, and gesture outwards where there's abruptly a chair for you. "Pretty efficient. Now you wanna let me know just what the fuck is going on?" You gesture around to the office that looks fine, and them, who looks largely untroubled despite what you were fairly sure was a devastating blow, and yourself who looks, well, not particularly fine in any which way. ](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[They gesture carelessly and there's a chair for you to sit in, but you don't move. You know your own strength, and you know that even though the plan was improvised, it was sound. They shouldn't have been able to wave you off like that.] "Sit, and we can proceed with our meeting." "Proceed?" you ask, trying to repress a shudder. "Yes, we have an appointment, although you're not on time." You stare blankly, your brain ticking. "I am Adrien Bright," they say slowly, giving you a look like you're the one being absolutely unhinged right now. "Sit, and we can have our meeting." "No," you blurt. They raise an eyebrow, infuriatingly unruffled by your prior fight. Bright is classically good looking, which you feel like someone could have warned you about before you got here. Surely there should be a picture hanging in the lobby or something: for your consideration, the owner is sexy capitalist evil instead of the regular melted candle wax capitalist evil. They have a low, broad nose and a rugged, craggy face with sun-browned skin. Their hair is silvery white, with only the barest streaks of black left in it, and it's pulled back into a messy tie. Their whole look is emphasized by their suit, which is clean and white with a tight, high-necked black shirt underneath to emphasize the distinct lines of their chest. Despite its objective cleanness and neatness, they wear it with an unaffected air of coy rakishness. "No?" (link: "\"No! What the fuck!?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"That's what I said, yes? No.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"No! No.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

"Are you surprised that you were tested for field readiness so soon after a promotion?" they ask measuredly. "Without warning? (if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You're fucking right I am!](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You fucking think?!](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Of-fucking-course!]" Your job is not a union gig, nor have there been a lot of pushes to make it so despite how hungry the position is for some kind of regulation. This is mostly because of the legal grey area of the actual work: it's functionally vigilantism, an uninvested and dispassionate militia, who are so unprotected by the rules that keep regular industries safe that to demand their due is to open themselves up to not only legal action by the company, but the derision of people who rightfully see their work as sketchy and borderline indefensible. That sure as shit don't mean you volunteered to get jumped during a meeting. They consider you for a moment, their eyes both calculating and curious, like the idea of an employee being angry about being assaulted in the middle of the day is some sort of quirk. "I'll note that in your file."

They wait another moment before they seem to abruptly understand that you're not going to sit down, and nods shortly. "All right then, let's begin. Originally the purpose of this meeting was to assess your worthiness. As I mentioned, you were recently and hastily promoted outside of the regular channels." (cycling-link: "\"Mhm, I was there.\"", "\"I...yes?\"", "\"Mhm. What about it?\"") "Don't feel pressured to respond to statements." (cycling-link: "Well fuck you too.", "Oof, ice cold.", "Dickhead.") "As I was saying, I was interested in the work you're doing for Priestess #10297101." (cycling-link: "Is that T's actual designation? Damn.", "She's got a name, jerk.", "Oh great, now this.") "What do you want to know?" you ask. Best not to volunteer any information that isn't asked for, as this situation could plummet downhill at any moment: and downhill from surprise attack is quite a steep slide. They lean back, watching you intently with warm, dark eyes, the bastard. You were deeply unprepared for this meeting: how are you supposed to focus while (cycling-link: "you're this flustered", "the evil CEO flexes")? "Tell me about your new duties."

(if: $player_personality is "irritable")[Fish harder, jerk. "I do a lot in a day. Any specific questions?" They'd be further ahead to try and wrestle you to the ground and rip your gloves off, over just randomly prodding you for information.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[So close, Bright, but not this time. "I'm sorry, could you be more specific? Tahira and I do a lot of very complex work that I'd love to get into." You smile, and it isn't returned. Cry about it, jerk.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["A lot like the old duties, amirite?" You don't sit, but you lean on the chair in a way that suggests you're specifically deciding not to. "Tahira tells me to do stuff and I do it. I could be the CEO of doing what I'm told at this point." Vague questions get vague answers.] They stare in perfect silence, and you get the impression they've seen through your sidestep—not that it matters to you, who wasn't particularly trying to hide it. "What merits do you believe you were promoted on?" they pivot, indifferent to the abrupt change in subject. This isn't necessarily a question you can see leading anywhere...(cycling-link: "but it still could", "but it's still so annoying", "so you'll take the lead"). (link: "\"Demon fighting, I guess.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Well, I'm a self-starter, I work quickly and efficiently—\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Oh, you're asking about my core competency...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[They wait for you to go on, and you stare right back at them. Realistically, if you were to receive a promotion...that's why it would have been. The actual reason was to cover up the whole Siruud thing, but nobody advances in SignetWorks for being good to work with.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Well I've missed my one-on-one, so my synergy levels are flagging. Really having trouble seeing the methodology matrix behind our partnership. If I had to guess it'd probably be my outside-the-box thinking, niche appeal, and holistic approach to strategy."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Their face doesn't even twitch, but neither do they interrupt you. "Uh, I work well under pressure and with strong time management skills, I've been told that I'm an asset to Tahira's team." You pause again, and once again they just watch you listlessly.] "Are you done?" (if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Yep."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I am out of corporate buzzwords, yes."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Uh. Yes."] "In that case, let's begin with your onboarding meeting." There's a file folder on their desk that makes you feel a little sick to look at, which usually indicates that it wasn't there a second ago.

"First of all, SignetWorks would like to congratulate you on your recent promotion, and we're pleased that you've decided to move forward with us." Oh no. Ohhh no, they're going to start giving you a business speech and you're not going to be listening. You feel a typical humming feeling take over your brain while you struggle to at least passively participate in this "meeting". (if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[And you do try, so hard, but Bright starts talking about the company as a family and...you've checked out. Goodbye. Gone. It makes you think of that horrible moment when someone repeats something for you and you still didn't hear it, which doesn't make it easier to focus.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[But how does anyone pretend to care about this stupid shit? You think you hear something about the company as a family and your brain shuts down hard and angrily, like it's high school and the teacher is getting frustrated with you.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[And you put forth a valiant effort, but it's really weird to watch people talk without being able to process what they're saying. It's kind of like a flesh puppet: oh wow, that's a scary thought. Flesh puppet. How would that even work? Would it be structurally sound? It couldn't be all skin, then, there would have to be an internal structure. Styrofoam? No, that's not good for the environment—shit, Bright is still talking.] "You're joining a prestigious institution whose long history of hard work—" (if: $route is "s")[This wasn't how you planned for any of this to go, and of course there was some element of the unknown involved: after all, to this very minute you have no idea why the CEO would deign to personally deliver your onboarding meeting. Still, there was some kind of grim urgency involved, and Siruud had been uncharacteristically concerned about whether or not you went. He'd smelled trouble and insisted that you blow off your boss, which wasn't viable, which he didn't understand, which led to a confusingly tender argument where you got the feeling that Siruud was worried about you.](elseif: $route is "t")[You and Tahira had talked extensively about what could possibly happen at this meeting, in addition to a thousand possible consequences: none of them involved an onboarding meeting that she'd blithely skipped over, because you're not the kind of person who needs a formal invitation to go to work everyday. Honestly, the attack was far closer to what you'd both expected, which had made Tahira nearly twitch with frustration. Sometimes it almost feels like...and well, this is mostly an overactive imagination, but you feel more like her champion sometimes than someone who's working with her. She moves you around the board as necessary, telling you very little about her motives, but somehow at the end of it all you're...still there. And you're not sure it's just because she's keeping you there.] "Any questions so far?" "Nope!"

(if: $route is "s")[Honestly even if you could focus in this moment, you're not sure you'd have questions anyway: none that Bright could probably answer, because you get the idea that your binding is far more complicated than what makes up the bread and butter of SignetWorks' industry. Maybe that explains how worried he was before you left, all the way down to him tracking down a whole phone to try and text you on: maybe it's the stupid vessel thing all over again. He's stopped calling you that to your face, but are you willing to believe he's stopped seeing you as his own personal sepulcher?](elseif: $route is "t")[You almost wish Tahira had thrown open her third eye to predict that you'd be sitting through the most boring possible future; then again, maybe she wouldn't have wanted you to go if she did see that Bright was going to jump you. Part of you thinks that you should be trying to make a good impression on Bright, but there's something in you that's far more confident that it doesn't matter what they think because so long as Tahira wants you there, you'll be there. Maybe you're buying in to the champion thing a little harder than is realistic, but you know you'd put your money on T any day.] You fold your arms over your chest and Bright abruptly stops talking, their eyes focused on you with uncomfortable intensity. You're fully in the moment when silence falls, and when they eventually clear their throat. "What about a formal asessment?" they ask. "The onboarding does tend to go on." You actively resist the urge to step back, hoping that they don't just launch themself at you. "You want to fight again?" "Consider it sparring," they offer, their eyes still trained around your elbow.

(set: $_tempnum to (random: 1, 2))"(cycling-link: "I really don't know if I'm comfortable with that...", "Absolutely not.", "Bold of you to suggest it, but I'll pass.")" "I'll agree we got off to a poor start, but surely we can set that aside for some friendly sparring." (if: $route is "t")[Sir Flex-a-Lot's sagging skin and huge eyes flash into your brain like an intrusive thought. ](else:)[]For some reason, even the facade of friendliness doesn't make you want to volunteer to have this extremely weird person who brushed off your magic earlier kick your ass again in the middle of a corporate office (because even if you could fight back against something like that, are you supposed to earnestly beat the shit out of your boss?). "I've actually got a lot of work I have to organise," you demur, not sure that your tone conveys the bland apologia that you're hoping for. Bright stands and places themself at the end of the rug, gesturing for you to take the opposite place facing them and the door. Something about their expression has changed; it seems they're no longer asking.

(if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Well then." You don't bother to hide how annoyed you are by this development, still amped up and sore from the last time you faced them. You plant yourself where they indicate, sighing deeply.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[Your jaw is clenched so tight that it causes you physical pain, but if that's what it takes to not tell your boss to go fuck themself then that's what you're going to have to do. You walk woodenly over to where they indicate, planting yourself wordlessly.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Uhm." This feels bad, but what choice do you have? Usually work is the only acceptable excuse at SignetWorks, and failing that you're out of valid options. You suppose the only thing left is to plant yourself where they indicate and try to brace yourself.] You cast a longing glance at the door that leads out of this situation, and then crouch lightly in what Tahira has fondly nicknamed your choose your player stance. There's nothing wrong about it, as it does a fairly good job of protecting your vitals against prodding blows meant to expose weakness, it just also makes you bounce a little on your heels like you have a finisher move (you don't; you'd have a lot more friends if you did, you think). Bright doesn't seem to be interested in prodding for weakness, however, and instead immediately sends a whirlwind of necrotic energy swirling towards you like a tornado made of screaming souls. (if: $_tempnum is 2)[You hurl yourself left.](else:)[You brace yourself and hope for the goddamn best.]

(if: $_tempnum is 2)[You slam your shoulder against the floor as you go, gritting your teeth in barely restrained anger and pain. Part of getting off street duty was meant to mean that you didn't have to put up with shit like this anymore. (if: $route is "t")[So much for the big bad champion, you think, and an undeniable curl of real disappointment shivers through you.](elseif: $route is "s")[Siruud isn't gunna be able to put all your pieces back together, and you can't afford bed rest right now.] "Time out!" you call.](else:)[The force of the necromancy brings you to your knees, and you shriek in time with the shrieking in your ears. Your hearing rings and all your limbs are sapped of strength. You don't fucking deal in necromancy, so it's really only habit that tells you that despite the fact that it means rolling clumsily to the floor, you should get out of the way. "Time out!" you call.] It would be blind optimism to think that the reason Bright flies at you again is because they didn't hear you. Their fist, glowing blue in a sickly sort of way like cleaning chemicals and coolant, smashes into the floor beside your skull instead of your skull, giving you get the dubious opportunity to look directly into Bright's wild eyes. They grin, with abruptly too many pointed teeth; you've seen this phenomena before. They've unlocked something on the inside that they shouldn't have in the first place. Fabulous.

(if: $_tempnum is 1)[You shake off the weakness, sooner than your body wants to release it which means that in roughly four hours your joints are going to feel like they've been paper mached into dry, stiff cubes with a thick paste made of agony. Something to look forward to, once you're done scrambling for your life. ](else:)[Casting aside thoughts of what happens after, as it's better to know that there will be an after to plan, you scramble away from the spot in the floor where your head might have been turned to jam. ]The desk, still the only significant piece of furniture in the room, is really your only option for a shield: that is, until Bright tears it apart with their bare hands. It's real wood that you watch explode into glitter made of splinters, which is something that doesn't matter right now, but goddamn. You're pretty sure you'll shred like fucking pull apart bread compared to a hardwood desk. (if: $player_magic is "frost")[Ice isn't particularly strong, or at least you don't have the time to make it strong enough to stop whatever Bright is now. A wall does nothing, but maybe a slick surface will: you slam your hands against the floor and not only send out a wave of frost, but defrost and refrost it as fast as you possibly can to really mess up the floor. The only thing worse than ice is bumpy, cracked ice.](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[Bright didn't seem all that bothered by your fire before, but surely there's a working fire alarm in here somewhere. It won't necessarily save you, but you've got a nagging sense of morality that tells you that Bright is unhinged and you should evacuate the building: then you can really start fucking around with magic. The ceiling is high and vaulted, so maybe in complete disregard for safety in a building where you aren't the only one who can make fire happen with minimal thought, they were too high up to catch the heat signal. You weren't technically burning anything before, so the smoke was controlled: that, however can change, as you're not fond of the rug Bright is crouched on.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[Vents are front left, behind you to the right, none by the window, and an open door to keep away from in case there's more than just Calrin and Bright on this floor. That in mind, you fog the area around the both of you with a thick, toxic cloud. You're functionally immune to it, although it smells terrible and your lungs don't love processing it; hopefully Bright is even less fond of it than you are, or at minimum it makes it too hard for them so come flying at you out of nowhere...or they could just start throwing themself around regardless of whether or not they hit you every time, and you won't see them coming. No plan is perfect.] "$first," they call, still grinning. It's not a grin because they're happy, or even because they're having fun; their teeth suddenly can't fit in their mouth. "Save yourself, $first." What the fuck does that mean?

(set: $achieve03 to 1)"Working on it," you report, sweat dripping down your forehead. You brush it off in a hasty, sloppy movement—nothing stings like sweat in your eyes—and focus on (if: $player_magic is "frost")[putting as much ice between you and them as possible](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[creamating the shit out of their rug](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[making your way out of the fog quietly enough to slip back down into the building]. "Save yourself, $last. You know how to do it," they repeat, (if: $player_magic is "blight")[the snapping of their jaws audible through the fog](else:)[unmoving at the other end of your hazard]. (cycling-link: bind $_temp, "I would not be in this room if I knew how not to be.", "This is weird right? Bright is being weird.", "I hope a big fucking cartoon anvil drops on your fucking head you creepy jerk!") "Call your patron!" they shriek, (if: $player_magic is "blight")[and you hear their nails clawing at the floor.](else:)[their nails clawing at the floor.] "Call him!" Him? Siruud? "Siruud the Devourer!" (css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Achievement Unlocked: Blaze It]

(if: $player_personality is "irritable")[Now you know exactly what not to do, although it hadn't honestly occurred to you before. You're not even sure if you have that power(if: $route is "t")[; something to bring up to Tahira, if you live that long](elseif: $route is "s")[; you'll have to ask Siruud, if you don't die].](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[Oh you goddamn knew that Bright was being weird, and this confirmed it. They seem to think you have some sort of demon power through Siruud: hell, they know about Siruud at all! (if: $route is "t")[With a sinking feeling, you wonder if they know how Tahira is involved](elseif: $route is "s")[He's going to be so pissed off, if he survives your imminent injury and death].](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[The thought of Siruud at your beck and call is funny enough—(if: $route is "t")[all this time trying to find out and turns out that you could just snap your fingers and summon him?](elseif: $route is "s")[the shocked offence you can clearly picture on his face at the idea, let alone if you actually pulled it off]—that you have to swallow a slightly hysterical giggle. You do figure, however, that now is not the time to try it.] You take a generous step back, but it's blind: if their goal was to disorient you with their weird intensity, then they've done it. Unsurprisingly, the monster(if: $player_magic is "blight")[ from the fog] takes advantage of your confusion, throwing themself forward. You scramble right, which is a mistake: the desk wasn't effective, but it was something. Having something between your organs and some sort of hybrid monster is ideal, even if they can chew through it like a beaver. Your magic falters, which might be a good thing considering that you lost the advantage of not having to flee. The (if: $player_magic is "blight")[fog dissolves into a foul-smelling mist](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[rug is a scalding ashen mess](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[ground is a slippery, watery mess] that you struggle to navigate. You're forced left, towards the shuddering window, as Bright—is it Bright, or were they replaced?—takes another violent swipe at you from behind.

You're backed up against the window now, your chest heaving. Glass is bad, glass is giving you a panic attack, but every time you try to get around Bright they move again. Finally they lash out with their arm and you misjudge the direction entirely: they grip you by your throat. Their hand is sweaty and calloused, surprisingly human despite the elongated fingers and sharp talons digging into the back of your neck. They hoist you up and it's so much more painful than you've ever pictured. Your spine stretched, your neck aches, your traps burn, and all that on top of the blood trickling down your back from their claws and the way your lungs burn as you wheeze for air, unprepared to get strangled. You whine, your eyes start to blur with (cycling-link: "terrified tears", "a furious lack of air"); you scratch at their arm, but they barely seem to feel it. "Call him," they order, drool sliding down their sharp fangs. "Wha—P-Pleas—" "Call him!" they slam you against the window. It rattles dangerously, ominously. (link: "\"No.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I can't.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"P-Please...ligma...\"")[(set: $achieve04 to 1)(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[Bright's eyes narrow, and then widen, almost beyond what you would comfortably think their eye sockets were capable of. "Well then," they offer in a voice that's almost normal.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Bright's eyes narrow and their mouth flexes and puckers, almost like they're tutting. "Poor thing. I'll help you now, see?"](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Ligma?" they ask. "Ligma balls!" you wheeze, kicking outward. Your foot bounces weakly off their chest, and they roll their eyes and scoff as well as they can, given the whole mouth situation.] They pull you in close, until you're so close that you're not convinced they're not going to bite your head off. And then they shove you against the window so hard that the glass shatters. And then they let go.(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")[ (css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Achievement Unlocked: Did That Help?]](else:)[]

(set: $player_defen to 1)(set: $achieve05 to 1)There's a sort of momentum—you're sailing outwards, not falling, because they've thrown you so hard that gravity hasn't caught up yet. Things happen slowly: the glass shards around you seem to turn in slow, prismatic pirouettes, and the cold night air frosts your breath as you pant into the perfectly silent night. There's no sound. Maybe you're hurt from the chokehold, maybe you're in shock, maybe maybe maybe... You've never felt heavier than when you start to fall. There's so much time between the top and the bottom, but your brain can't do anything with it. You're respectably (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")[scrappy](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[resourceful](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[tenacious], but...there's nothing you can do here. (if: $player_magic is "blight")[Miasmas and poisons aren't going to slow your fall, and you can't even knock yourself out before you hit the ground because you're hyperimmune.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[Your velocity is too high to try and slow with ice platforms, and by the time you create enough brittle ice to slow yourself down, you'll be on the street anyway.](elseif: $player_magic is "flame")[You're tempted to set the building on fire, hoping to take it with you, but the poor slobs in there don't deserve that. One does, but you're well past the point where it'd hurt them.] You think instead of (if: $route is "t")[Tahira; might as well. You hope that Bright really doesn't know that she's involved, and that she isn't too messed up that this happened despite all your carefully laid plans. It feels kind of cold to think that she'd be more upset about losing her partner than about losing you in particular, but no need to bum yourself out right now. Both, you decide. She can be sad about both.](elseif: $route is "s")[Siruud. Maybe if you think real hard, it'll call him; but honestly, you still don't want to. Bright clearly has a plan that involves him showing up, and you can't imagine it'll be anymore pleasant than your own meeting with them. Part of you wonders if he'll be sad you're dead. Another part scoffs that he might also die if you do, but you ignore that part and kind of hope that Siruud wouldn't brush off the pile of meat and bone you're about to become.] You try to focus so hard on (if: $route is "t")[her](elseif: $route is "s")[him] that you forget the street below. (css: "font-size: 0.75em")[Achievement Unlocked: In Good Bohemian Style]

(if: $route is "t")[You think you're hallucinating when a tiny pink butterfly lands on your nose, almost blinding you with it's coloured glow. The light becomes unbearable, forcing you to screw your eyes shut,](elseif: $route is "s")[Your cursed arm suddenly glows a warm, throbbing red. The light starts in your palm] and then expands outwards, until you're bathed in it: and more importantly, slowing. Every inch of space you plummet slows your descent, until finally you're gently deposited on boneless legs on the empty, indifferent street below. Your heart is pounding so hard that your chest feels like a door that's being opened and closed in wide, slamming gestures. Your head spins and you tilt, watching the wide, starless sky slide above you and land on the ground with an aching thud. You're freezing cold but dripping sweat, and as hard as you try to so much as kick your leg out to prove that you're alive, that something happened and you lived, you only manage to awkwardly worm your limbs in a weak, ineffective roll. You look around the street in a daze, (if: $route is "t")[and see your life-saving pink light disappear in a wink and a sigh on the wind that you're also not sure that your now certainly broken brain didn't simply conjure up for you](elseif: $route is "s")[seeing absolutely nothing: the red light had originated from you, and faded completely before you hit the ground; somehow you did it, with magic that isn't yours in an achingly familiar shade of red]. Tears blur your eyes, although you're not sure what for—hysteria? Anger? Fear? Regardless, they slide silently down your face as you watch a plane blink by high above the skyscrapers. Your whole body tenses to the point of pain when, from some sourceless space around you, you hear, "Oh $last..." You scramble to your knees and take off in a sloppy sprint, not sure of any direction or purpose besides to get the (link: "hell away.")[(goto: "trans")]

Snacks, ??? (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[There's precious few businesses that are open during the hours you keep. You try to keep a vague map in your head of interiors you can access across the city—(if: $player_origin is "desperate")[always handy, knowing how quickly it can become the difference between life and death even without a demon on your tail](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[even if they're not always happy to see you](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[even though the people seem to sense that you're a merc and get immediately annoyed with your presence]—but the first few hours of your exile involve your brain being so wildly out of sorts that it doesn't occur to you to go inside. When night falls properly and even the moon's light is blocked by heavy, wet clouds, then your body reminds you that indoors means you'll be able to feel your toes again. You can't sit still for long, though, because every quiet moment where you try to take a minute to sit down and rest—maybe to take stock of the situation and try to make plans for what you're actually going to do after three days of running—you suddenly start to feel restless, hunted. You haven't seen Bright since that night at SignetWorks, nor do you have any real indication that they're still following you, but if you try, however minorly, to think, then suddenly you're sure that their hot breath is just inches from your neck. It's definitely a magic-induced paranoia, and you'd love to do something about it—unfortunately, that requires you to calm down, which just leads to a reactivation of whatever hex or curse got placed on you in the first place.]

(live: 1.5s)[Hey, that's it !! Thanks for playing and if you subscribe, thanks for your support. (link: "On my Ko-fi")[(gotoURL: "https://ko-fi.com/martimcfly")], you can become a monthly supporter and get perks like copies of certain games, early updates, post-demo updates, and drabbles !! And also my undying gratitude. Special thank you to Leyla (@leylses on Bluesky & Tumblr) for colour coordination on the themes 💚 (link: "Restart")[(goto: "startup")]]

You should contact Siruud. You still have your phone although it's definitely dead by now and you can't sit still long enough to charge it, so it would have been really useful to have remembered it before this point. You cup (cycling-link: bind $drink_choice, "a coffee", "a tea", "an apple cider", "a hot chocolate") against your thick-feeling fingers, trying to bite down on the panic, to see if it can be overwhelmed by willpower. It has the inverse affect of making it worse, your hands starting to shake against the waxy paper cup. Bright could be anywhere—you don't even know what they are. Maybe the reason you feel watched is because you're being watched—don't cellphones have tracking devices in them? You make an erratic turn towards the counter and quickly drop your phone on top of it. "Do you have a charger?" you ask, aware that if they don't then you're not going to be wholly in control when you throw the thing off a bridge. "Just the one, but I can't lend it out," the cashier says with the flat indifference of the late shift. There's an invisible carapace around them that comes with dealing with the sorts of people who avoid the sun: people like you. "Could I leave my phone here to get it charged?" you ask. It's the perfect solution: you won't be tracked, and you'll get a full battery out of the deal. Assuming you can bring yourself to come back for it, of course.

The cashier passively allows your phone to be left there, and you leave them with some reassurance that you'll be back before the shift change to pick it up, hoping against hope that that's true. Back out on the street, your eyes dart back and forth, trying to find out who's watching you. It doesn't have to be Bright, and in fact it would make more sense if it wasn't. A tired looking woman dressed in old-fashioned diner waitress clothes, shivering at the bus stop, could be working for them; the surly looking kid with a violently red face in the cold couldn't be blamed for picking up spying work for whatever was in charge of SignetWorks. Fuck, there were pretty canny-looking birds staring down from their hydro-pole perches. You compulsively reach for your phone, before remembering that you don't have it on you. Relief battles panic, tearing you down the middle—no phone means no one is tracking you but no phone means no ambulance, no idea what time it is, no Siruud, no Maureen. You're alone—blissfully and horrifically alone. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[This is bad. There's a voice in your head that reminds you that no person is an island and that you are at your most vulnerable cut off from your allies and resources, all of which are an easy phone call away if you could just force yourself to make it. You've been here before—granted without the monster and the panic curse—and it wasn't any easier back then for lacking the supernatural elements.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[In the brief moments where you can think lucidly and logcally, you know that you're shooting yourself in the foot by getting rid of your phone. You need help: you can't do this by yourself, but at the same time you can't bring yourself to sit still long enough to charge the phone anyway. What good is it to you if it's dead? What good is it to Bright?](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You want to believe that you can do this: you're capable, and you've been alone before. You don't need anyone to get through this, you just need to willpower this stupid curse away so you can focus. There has to be somewhere quiet and secluded enough to just let you catch your breath, and then you can handle this whole thing. There's nothing in this world that a sufficient amount of willpower can't overcome.] The back of your neck prickles, and you take off down the street.

You feel your hand pulse under your glove and clench it into your pocket. It's been doing that, which you assume is something to do with Siruud—it pretty much has to be, right? That's the cursed arm, the one with the ugly bracelet you can't take off. You don't know if he's calling you or trying to track you or what but either way it's not fucking working, is it? (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You wish it would. You wish that for four minutes you could feel less erratic, less targeted, less alone. Even Siruud looming next to you, even if he isn't useful, would remind you that other people exist.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Despite yourself, you wish he would show up. Maybe he wouldn't know how to fix everything and hell, maybe it'd set off your paranoia to have him following you...but on a different level, you'd know you weren't alone.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You're incandescently angry for a second, which you try to tell yourself is just the curse. You don't actually resent him for not showing up and just slamming the hand alarm; that would imply that you expected anything else of him, or would prefer him to just show up.] It pulses again, hard and red like a sunburn underneath the cracked, ashen skin. The soft lines of grey ash put a volcanic emphasis on the dark red lines of magic, splitting your (if: $player_complexion is "black")[familiar dark](elseif: $player_complexion is "brown")[brown earth](elseif: $player_complexion is "tawny" or $player_complexion is "tan")[sun-warmed](elseif: $player_complexion is "pale" or $player_complexion is "pink")[pearly] skin into magmatic rock. There's an element of pain, but also of warmth—like when blood starts to rush into numb limbs, creating unbearable pins and needles but the promise of sensation. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You flex your hand, feeling your jaw tighten against the onslaught of vulnerability. "Show up or don't," you whisper into the cold night. "Stop fucking around."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You clutch your arm against your chest, your fingers shaking against your collarbone. "Please," you whisper into the dark. "Please, please, please."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You flip the bird at no one, wondering if Siruud can tell that it's meant for him. "Don't mind me, jerk," you mumble into nothingness. "Just hanging around waiting to see if you're gunna give me a hand out of here."] The curse just has to break—the one that's making you paranoid, not your hand. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[Fuck, you have a lot of curses—it feels overwhelming for a second, but you clench your jaw. Paranoia first, then hand.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You feel the metaphorical water start to rise over your head and swallow back terror: too many curses, but one at a time. Just the fear, then the hand.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Props to Bright for putting a curse on you that actually makes your hand a secondary concern—top tier cartoon villainy. Now you have to waste time fixing your endocrine system (which is busted on a good day) before you get to the matter of your hand.] That's it: easy. The curse needs to break and then you can take everything in its proper order—so how do you break it? Your hand pulses again, harder this time, and the pain briefly wins out over the numb tingling. You nearly stop, but your brain activates before the instinct to pause and you push forward through the pain; you don't want to indicate to anyone watching you that you're vulnerable, even as it starts to throb urgently. (link: "Is he close?")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You have to move faster.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "This is fine.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[Move faster to where? you wonder as you feel your legs start to pump despite your very valid concerns about what the fuck you think this is going to do. This is nothing. I'm running from my own hand. Your frustration with yourself intensifies.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You're bolting away from the pain in your hand. Any pain or intesity or something just fucking nothing activates such a sharp and terrifying hit of adrenaline that puts you into flee mode. You can't help but laugh bitterly at yourself, and as you do your frustration with yourself sharpens like someone else is laughing at you.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You look around but he's still not there. Is he hiding from you, waiting to see what kind of ally he's made? You have the answer to that: he has an ally who's lost control of their internal systems in such a severe way that it never ends. There's no light at the end of the tunnel and you don't expect one. All you want is a helping hand and he's denying you that and for what? Your throat feels tight and angry, which just makes you angrier because none of this is true, you just believe it. The person you're angriest with is yourself.] The hand throbs hard enough to glow and this time you're forced to stop, forced to your knees with the agony of whatever's happening to you. And then it's over, and your mind clears like a lifted fog. You sit in trembling relief as the adrenaline fades and everything hits you all at once. First and foremost, you're starving. You haven't eaten a full meal since your meeting with Bright; it's been easier to take sips of drinks before becoming convinced that you were being watched or the barista spiked them with something, and even those haven't fully slaked your thirst. Besides being hungry, thirsty, and feeling the vague need to piss, you're also noticably filthy. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[It hasn't gone this far since your crisis, pre-SignetWorks. The owners of the local gyms didn't want to let you in to use their amenities even if you could've scraped together the change to pay for entry, and you were between couches as people alternatively lost hope that your slump was temporary and started to somehow become more and more afraid of you—like the poor was catching, like you'd start stealing their precious mall-purchased cutlery to pawn like it was real silver and they were living in a posh period-drama level estate.](else:)[You can't remember ever feeling this gross, like a sleepover at someone else's house intensified to a thousand, just one more day without a shower ballooning into two weeks in the hot sun without even the benefit of a cloth to take the grease off your face. It hasn't been long enough for how dirty you feel, suddenly embarrassed. Maybe people really were staring at you because you were so filthy it broke the social contract.] And then, like all that wasn't enough, you're too exhausted to decide on what needs to be solved first: it all suddenly feels insurmountable, ten big things breaking down into a million small things. You don't know how much money you have on you, and you only know what part of town you're in without how to navigate it or how to leave it for the one you actually live in. You need to contact someone. You need your fucking phone.

Snacks, ??? (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 2s)[You slink back into Snacks, a tiny bougie bakery-type store where you'd definitely spent way too much money on $drink_choice you didn't finish. You're now aware that you look worse than dishevelled and have been acting erratically, so you're not surprised that a shiver runs through the cashier before they put their customer service face back on. "Here for your phone?" they ask, and you nod shortly. "Someone's been trying to get a hold of you." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Mhm," you mumble. That tracks.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Sorry," you murmur sheepishly.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["You don't say." Guess you were more popular than you thought.] "Anything else I can get you?" they ask, clearly hoping you say no. "I'm good. Thanks," you offer weakly, eager to leave the cafe behind.]

{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">Siruud</div> <div class="npc"> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Today • 0:00</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">where are you</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">where are you</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">where are you</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">where are you</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">where are you</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">where are you</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">where are you</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">anwser your phone!!!!!!!!!!</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">(cycling-link: bind $_reaction, "miss me much?", "I'm so sorry", "I'm back.")</div> </div> </div>}

{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">Siruud</div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">$_reaction</div> </div> (if: $_reaction is "miss me much?")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")](elseif: $_reaction is "I'm so sorry")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")](elseif: $_reaction is "I'm back.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")] <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">I am going to kill you</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[(if: $player_personality is "irritable")[I've been through a fucking lot lately](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[harsh >:(](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[I've been doing my best!]](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[(if: $player_personality is "irritable")[that's sounds like a no](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[please don't?](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[so yes ;) ?]](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[(if: $player_personality is "irritable")[I said I was sorry.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[I know !! I know I'm sorry !!!!!](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[I forgive you too bestie <3]]</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts siruud">Hi sweetheart it's Maureen! Where are you?</div> <div class="npc-texts siruud">We'll come to get you.</div> </div> </div>} You pop open the app you use for maps and look up Snacks' address, sending it along. You do it before it can occur to you that you don't want Siruud or Maureen to see you like you are now, and you don't know how to explain what's been happening for the past three days or what made it stop. They'll want answers that you don't have. (link: "You've had episodes like this before.")[(set: $player_neuro to "alt")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "This is the least stable you've ever felt.")[(set: $player_neuro to "typical")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $player_neuro is "alt")[Bouts of sourceless paranoia and long stretches of being unable to take care of yourself to the degree you deserve aren't unfamiliar to you, but this is the first time that the call hasn't been coming from inside the house. It's unsettling that you were set off like this by a third party, which is not only a waste of three days of your life but a violation of your autonomy. Was the curse just a curse of paranoia or did Bright know that they could flip a switch in your brain to reduce function? You follow one of the most sacred laws of the workers of the world, which is to never disclose any mental health issues (or frankly physical issues unless you know for sure there's accessible resources you need and are definitely on offer), so how would they have found out? You take a deep breath, still shivering in the aftershocks of calming down. That's more paranoia, and it isn't useful to you right now to drill down on the curse. You'll have more luck when Maureen and Siruud show up.](elseif: $player_neuro is "typical")[You don't have the language to describe how invasive and unsettling it is that your function was just...turned off. There's obvious curses, things with solutions like true love's kiss and sprinkling blessed spring water on the afflicted area, sometimes even just a real and sympathetic apology...this was different, though. You don't know what you did to break it, which means you can't understand the nature of the curse itself. That keeps you vulnerable to another attack, and the dread you feel thinking that in an instant you could be a trembling paranoid mess again, unable to eat or shower or find your way home...you don't want to be that vulnerable again, especially not knowing how to fix it. You crouch down on the sidewalk, trying to remember how to breathe. Soon Maureen and Siruud will be here, and you don't have to work on this on your own.] It seems like an eternity before a beat up old car pulls up, a little too small for John Park who nearly throws himself out the passenger seat before Maureen manages to slow to a complete stop. It's blue like a beetle's shell and right now it's the most beautiful car in the world to you. You're on your feet before you even realise it, and Siruud has both hands on your shoulders. "What the hell have you been doing?" he demands sharply. (link: "\"Having a fucking party, obviously.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Hey lay off.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Sorry! I'm sorry.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Does it fucking look like I've been having a great time?" you demand, gesturing down at yourself. He tilts his head and his eyes take you in, and for a second your gut gets hot with embarrassment and offence. Can he not tell that you look worse than usual? "All you had to do was call," he says shortly. "I did as soon as I could." "Three days after you went missing. All we knew was that there was an incident in the building, the police were involved, and bystanders said they saw someone fall out the window."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Part of you thinks you should be angry because he's being such an asshole without stopping for a second to ask you if you're okay, if you need something, extending you any understanding after the three days you've spent as a total mess, but instead you're just...relieved. You can set the story straight. It's over now. "It's been three days, $first. I need answers," he says shortly, but you've clearly thrown him off enough that he isn't comfortable yelling at you anymore. "The news said that someone had fallen from the top of SignetWorks."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["It's been three days, $first, where we could only assume you were alive because I hadn't died. You should refrain from testing me right now," he snaps. "Sorry, I just wanted you to know that after the worst meeting I ever attended I disappeared for three days for no reason and had a lot of fun doing it. I wouldn't want you to feel bad about acting like a total dick right now," you shoot back, brushing him off. "What happened at the meeting? On the news it said someone fell from the top of the building."] (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Yeah that was me," you report casually. He stares and you shrug. "It didn't take. What did the company say?"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["That...definitely did happen," you say haltingly. "You killed someone? $first, that's the kind of information I need upfro—" "I didn't kill anyone!" you insist, your voice high and thin. "Bright threw me out the window." At his baffled look, you shrug helplessly. "Something happened. What did the company say?"](if: $player_personality is "irritable")["I knew that already," you huff, and he stares at you. "It was me," you clarify, which doesn't seem to fix his utter bafflement. "Keep up. What'd the company say?"] "How did you survive?" he demands, ignoring the way you brushed it off. (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["All skill, all right? What did—"](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["That doesn't matter right now. What did—"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Can we get back to that? I want to know what the com—"] A loud horn sends you both a foot and a half into the air, and Maureen waves from the drivers seat.

The two of you pile into the back of the beautiful blue grocery-getter, and you feel yourself start to relax into the seat. It hits you all at once that you've been sleeping in scattered snatches, frequently standing up and infrequently for more than an hour and change at a time. "Good to see you again, $first," Maureen says pleasantly, and Siruud huffs, back in his regular form. Blearily you assume there's some kind of enchantment on the car to hide the lot of you, or else the windows are tinted or...something. It's hard to focus, but you take a second to smile faintly at the tight fit Siruud is in the car, his long horns scraping the worn out roof. "SignetWorks said there was an attack by a warlock who escaped out the window." "Me," you confirm. "Dunno what warlock means though." "Well it means we got ourselves a real shit sandwich now," she returns conversationally. "This hasn't happened ever, as far as they're concerned." "They're lying," Siruud says shortly. "They want to cover up the fact that they tried to kill $first." "Then how'd $he make it down to the ground without splattering?" she asks. The rumbling of the car mixed with the fuzzy glow of the passing lights has you sagging in your seat, only barely hearing your companions as you struggle to stay awake. You've done it for days, you just need a little longer to find a couch or something. "(upperfirst: $he) won't tell me." "Dunno," you mumble. Memories of the fall are fuzzy and they make your chest hurt to think about. It was red, but that doesn't explain a lot unless Bright thought that was literally Siruud showing up somewhere to save you, which didn't happen. (if: $player_magic is "flame")[Red isn't unusual when it comes to fire magic, but you remember the shade distinctly: fires are warm-coloured, but not blood coloured.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[Frost magic doesn't really come in red outside of some extremely specific circumstances, none of which apply to the whole window thing.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[You try to think of a particular blight spell that would turn out red, but sick usually comes in greens and yellows and browns—nothing like the buttery blood red of the magic that saved you.] The shade of red glows through your brain as you lose track of Siruud and Maureen's conversation, slowly slipping into a heavy, heavy sleep.

Maureen's Car, ??? (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[You're still you, though, which means you don't sleep long. The car slows to a halt and voices wake you up. You notice a few things immediately, the first being that you slumped from the window to Siruud's thigh and are currently drooling on his black pants. You jerk awake and away from him, frantically clawing at the handle of the door. "For fuck sake, $first—$first calm down!" he snaps. You do, freezing in the middle of your frantic attempt at escape. You're in the car with Siruud and Maureen. She stopped outside of your apartment building, a worn-down ruin in Brickton where run-down ruins are still allowed to exist outside of the clean corporate districts of Sanctum City. You feel yourself shaking all over and somehow, despite having fallen asleep for the whole car ride, you're still so tired that you're nauseous. "Everything okay back here?" Maureen asks like she's not hardly half an arm's length away. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Fine," you croak, sitting back as the panic-sweat cools on your back. "Sounds like it," she agrees wryly.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Yes," you confirm. "Sorry." You can feel sweat cooling on your chest. "Nothing wrong with a little post-nap confusion," she says with a knowing smile in the rearview.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Hunky dory," you offer weakly, feeling a lake of sweat pooling between your shoulder blades. "That's what I say when I wake up cranky too," she says with a snort.] "Do you plan on being normal sometime soon?" Siruud asks irritably. (link: "\"After you, jackass.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What do you think?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I said I was sorry...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["I'm not the one too twitchy to use a door handle," he shoots back, and you scowl. "How about you huff my fucking—"](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I could have guessed that," he grumbles, and you roll your eyes. "So glad that you found it in yourself to be really empathe—"](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["You keep saying that," he hisses, turning his head. "I'm starting to think it's just to make me look like I'm being aggressive." "You kind of—"] "Lay off, both of you," Maureen insists, turning around. "$first, Siruud was very worried about you. Siruud, I'm sure $first is relieved to see you again." Her assessment is met with your mutual cold silence—(cycling-link: "she's right, but you're compelled to", "you're not sure how you feel, so you", "she couldn't be more wrong, and so you") keep your mouth shut tight to deprive Siruud of the satisfaction of reacting to it. "Whether you admit it or not," she adds firmly, then waves her hand. "Now I think the both of you oughta lay low for a little while, at least until we figure out how $first survived the fall." "I was cursed," you blurt, and she frowns. "Not for the window thing, but after. I couldn't come home because I kept...panicking." It's not exactly how you want to describe it, but you turn to Siruud. "Like in Tahira's office." "A curse to keep you on the run," Siruud says thoughtfully, looking at you like there'll be a sigil burned into your forehead now that he actually knows what to look for. "Do they know you're alive, or did they place the curse pre-emptively just in case?" "This Bright sounds like a real piece of work," Maureen offers derisively. "There's something wrong with them," you murmur. "Too many teeth and they were asking about Siruud." The demon and the Crone exchange looks. (link: "You must sound crazy.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "They're not listening to you.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Oh, you know that look...")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You don't know if you'd believe yourself quite frankly. There's rules in this world, and very few of them can accomodate for the premiere demon hunter in Sanctum City secretly being...whatever the hell had hucked you out a window. There's an irony to it that's almost too potent, but also an inability to really categorize the event. Was Bright a demon? Had they corrupted their magic? Why? "Sorry," you mumble again.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[You know that you've just spent the past three days barely eating or sleeping, but you know what you saw: seeing it is what prompted the complete breakdown of your reliability. They can't hold that against you, they can't sideline you right now, because nothing that happened with Bright makes any sense and you need them to make sense of it for you. Was Bright a demon? Were they working with a demon? Had their magic been corrupted somehow? What does that even mean?](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[It's the old $he(if: $gender_plural contains "he")['ve](else:)['s] totally lost it, how do we explain to $him that $he(if: $gender_plural contains "he")['re](else:)['s] crazy now? You're not, though: you know how the whole barely eating hardly sleeping affects how they're taking your testimony, but you need them on your team because this past three days has been because of what happened with Bright. You don't have the tools to make sense of why the hell any of that happened, so you need them to get over how delusional you're sounding.] "We can talk about it after you've rested," Siruud decides, and you close your eyes. "I mean it," you argue. You can't make the statement you want to make because you can't open your eyes. "What can we do about it right now?" Maureen asks, and you pause. (link: "\"Nothing.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You guys need to be prepared.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I was hoping you knew.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[It's a cold comfort to admit, but right this second you're still compromised and neither of them really understand what's going on. Even if they did, your only strategy right now is to lay low and stay off Bright's radar: there's not a world where the three of you can bring the fight to SignetWorks in any way that matters.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["And is you half-remembering an event that happened three days ago while you struggle to stay awake, let alone communicate complex details to us, going to be the most efficient way to let us know what's going on?" Maureen asks, and you frown. "If Bright shows up—" "Then we're up the creek anyway. The three of us aren't going to have a battle plan that we can put into motion in an hour." That doesn't comfort you, but you see the wisdom in it. You wouldn't want to follow a plan that was cooked up in under an hour with what might be half the details.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Just once it'd be nice for someone to tell me that they understand exactly what's going on and knows what to do to about it," you murmur. You barely remember a childhood wherein not everything had to be dealt with by you as soon as possible. Surely there was at least one day in your life where the bills weren't addressed to you, the phone wasn't ringing, and you didn't have an inbox to fill; it feels so far away now. "We'll get there," Maureen assures you. "You just need a nap first."] "Maybe we shouldn't split up," Siruud says, his voice low. He's addressing Maureen, and you feel a spike of panic when you realise she was trying to drop the two of you off. She waves her hand dismissively, and the radio shivers with static as a response. "You'll be fine without an old woman there to crowd you." "I'm not worried about us." You struggle to straighten and look alert as a look passes between them, conveying more than you could articulate right now. You also don't want Maureen to disappear: you're not sure right now that she would come back. "I need to do research," she argues, and Siruud scowls. "Take us along." Maureen snorts. "Honey, no offence, but the two of you would compromise the club if they even deigned to let $first in." You shrink into your seat, a cold dread stealing over you. Siruud will choose to go with Maureen and you'll be alone again. (link: "You have to be okay with that.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "This is so typical.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You don't need him.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Siruud knows her better, and maybe he'd even be more useful helping her than lounging around your house while you try to pretend like Bright killed you. It feels deeply lonely, though, the idea of hiding in your apartment by yourself...even though arguably you've been doing that every day up until this point. Maureen's vulnerable though, at least in a physical sense (probably, although that's an assumption you're making), so she needs him more than you do.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[Always the bridesmaid, never the one that people clamour to bunker down with to make sure they're safe and taken care of. Maybe it's the three days of isolation making you jealous of an old woman in need of the protection of an old friend (although you really don't know what Maureen's deal is; maybe you're way off and Siruud would just slow down the massacre she would bring down onto SignetWorks) but would it kill anyone on this earth to put you first? You can't even stay awake and Siruud is already ditching you.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")[You just spent three days fending for yourself in the throes of a curse designed to kill you slowly. You're not cursed anymore, so you don't need the help; they can take your information and go research if it's really that important to them, and leave you alone to figure yourself out. Honestly, having them there would probably end up being a hindrance—you don't like the whole touch-y feel-y healing journey bullshit. You just need a quiet house and the coffee maker you got as a gift forever ago, the two of you against the world—you and the coffee machine that is. You don't need someone who can talk back.] "Fine," Siruud says shortly. "Nothing we can do about that." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You start out of your groggy lull, turning to stare at him. "Huh?" you ask, feeling slow and fuzzy. "Keep up, $first. If you're wanted then they won't let you into the club." "What about you?" you ask. He stares. "What about me?" "You go."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Wait, what? You double take like you heard him wrong with a garbled "Huh?", which makes him frown. "What now?" he asks impatiently. "Aren't you gunna go?" you ask, baffled. "Go where?" "With Maureen!"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["You can go," you offer, feeling your gut twist. It's almost self-destructive, the way you blow past his casual assertion that he'll stay with an insistence that he leave. "She said you won't be allowed in the club," he repeats, as if you misheard. "They'll let you in though," you remind him.] "Stop talking," he advises you curtly. "You're delirious." "No one is after you," you argue, frustrated that he seems to be misunderstanding you on purpose. "You could go research with Maureen." "And leave you by yourself?" "I'm not a total baby," you argue, in spite of your tired eyes and progressively worse mood. "And what happened last time I left you by yourself?" (link: "\"Go fuck yourself.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"That's different!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Okay well, you got me there.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["That didn't happen because you left me alone!" "I could have significantly improved the situation had I not blindly trusted your assessment of the threat," he snaps back. "No, you would have made shit infinitely worse because Bright was looking for you!" "Then we had better stick together." Siruud turns his head sharply, evidently done with the conversation. You resist the urge to pull his hair, a petty and impulsive instinct you haven't even really felt since you were a kid struggling in a consequences-based system to resist the urge to give in to your every impulse.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Do tell," he says with a condescending roll of his eyes. "I didn't know Bright was...whatever they are!" You wouldn't have gone in without back-up if you'd anticipated all the teeth or the necrotic magic or literally anything besides the person with the most authority to be mad about the demon thing. "But they were," he says shortly. "And so forgive me if I'm not keen to trust your judgement when the situation has been proven to be wholly out of your control." You grit your teeth, even though he's being kind of sweet—he didn't even imply for a second time that you're not a trustworthy gauge of danger, only that the situation is out of control.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You weren't looking around and you walked headfirst into a brick wall. You can't exactly deny that, but it doesn't change anything. "What does it matter to you?" you ask, and he rolls his eyes. "Please, save the nobility. We're still not sure if our lives are bound." "Isn't it better if they don't find both of us at once then?" you ask. "In theory, maybe if we die together, we also live together. "I'm not willing to bet our lives on it. Are you?" he asks, then quickly puts up his hand. "Rhetorical question: I don't care." "And the world revolves around you, right?" He's unphased by the sarcasm. "Yes."] "Are we in agreement then?" Maureen asks, drumming on her steering wheel. "Yes," Siruud answers. "(cycling-link: "Fine.", "Who cares what I think?")" "Great! Get out of my car, then, so I can go do something useful." You eagerly throw your weight to the door of the car, pouring yourself out the door and onto the sidewalk. You must look drunk, but better that than vulnerable and wanted by the authorities. Siruud steps out behind you, a fat white man with short cropped brown hair and a rogueish shadow of stubble. "Have fun, kids!" "Try to be careful," Siruud warns, and Maureen laughs before peeling out into traffic like the world is her drag track. Siruud sighs. (link: "\"What now?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What's this humansona's name?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Can you help me inside?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You try to bring yourself to your feet and fail, gritting your teeth against the embarrassment and frustration. Siruud rolls his eyes and holds out his arm—against every desire to independently show him that you're fine and don't need to be babied, you grab it and he pulls you upright with supernatural strength. "First, we go inside and you shower. We'll go from there." "I might need to eat first," you concede in a low voice. You're actually not sure what you need most urgently right now, or what you'll be able to do without another need overwhelming you. "Inside first," he says firmly.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Of course," he says holding his hand out. You take it and let him bring you to your feet with trembling uncertainty. He's unmoved as you use him to support your full weight, both literally and judging by his expression. "You'll need to bathe first," he decides, and you feel yourself go hot. "I don't know if I can," you admit. Every need is equally urgent right now and you don't know if you have the energy required to handle the whole reeking problem. "Let's get inside and decide from there," he says in a voice that almost sounds sympathetic.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Liam," he answers, watching you try to struggle to your feet. "For real, or did you just say the first name that came into your head?" you ask, not getting more graceful. "Liam is hardly the first name I'd think of. It's so...modern, but Maureen advised me that if I didn't throw in a few familiar names then my human personas would start to stand out." "John Park's a pretty average guy name," you point out, and he seems to finally get tired of watching you flail and holds out his arm for you. "He is an exercise in a readily available first and surname. She pointed out that Eden and Liam are vulnerable as soon as someone asks follow-up questions. I argued that Eden was a stage name, but she didn't seem impressed and Liam has no surname out of sheer laziness." "Smith," you suggest, and he rolls his eyes. "I'll accept suggestions after you get bathed." "I'll bathe after I eat." Or drink. Or sleep. Whatever happens first. "Whatever! Just get inside," he insists, exasperated.] The two of you limp into the building, and not for the first time you're relieved that your schedule is as such that you've never met your neighbours. Once the two of you are safely behind closed, locked, and hastily warded doors—with Siruud already eyeing the few available windows for the same treatment—Liam disappears and your demon is standing in his full, enormous form. "You need something light," he says immediately, disappearing into the kitchen. "Nothing heavy or too strong." (link: "Good. You prefer it that way.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "No! Lame! You need something spicy to bring you back to life!")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[One of the core benefits of being sick is that people temporarily stop pushing you to try strong, spicy, sour, or otherwise pungent food. You're a grown up: you know your limits and your preferences, and while there's general exceptions that other people can't easily guess, your general rule for food is light and mild. Come to think, almost in spite of how broad his tastes tend to be when it comes to the sheer, raw grocery list, Siruud tends to remember that about you and cooks to your strengths.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[How are you supposed to heal without your mouth burning? It clears your head, it wakes you up, and you've never been so sick that you'd prefer lame water soup over something with a hard kick. He knows this about you, and apparently anticipated how you'd react because he purposely avoids your eye. You make a quick circle around him to try and force him to make eye contact with your misery, but he catches on quick and looks determinedly over your head.] "Sit," he orders sharply, gesturing to the high, threadbare chairs set up against the kitchen counter that'd been there when you moved in. "Or go bathe." (if: $player_hair is "shaved")[You'll concede that you could probably use a quick wipe down, but still can't handle the entire process of cleaning yourself: not until you get food in you to quell the hungry nausea.](elseif: $player_hair is "curly" or $player_hair is "natural")[Nothing sounds better right now than tying up your hair (before you have to deal with the mess you let it tangle into during your curse-based meltdown) and sitting in the tub for a while, besides doing so while you're not so hungry that you're mildly nauseous.](else:)[You need to wash your hair, a fact which becomes increasingly pressing with every passing second, but you're not sure you have that kind of fortitude without an actual meal. It wouldn't hurt to wipe down in the meantime, though.] You stagger to your feet and stumble into the bathroom, the sounds of Siruud cooking soothing you like the sound of soft murmuring from another room. You wash your face and behind your ears, quickly scrubbing your pits (cycling-link: bind $player_breasts, " and under your tits before applying deodorant", "and applying deodorant"). It only makes you feel a little better, but you have a feeling this is going to happen by degrees. You peel off your dirty clothes last, throwing them in the neglected bin and deciding to sit in your underwear. Siruud will just have to be cool about it.

You feel a little better when you slouch back out to sit down again, resting your chin on your arms against the cold, cracked laminate countertop. It's interesting to watch Siruud move through the kitchen—he hardly has the speed or mind for presentation that a professional chef would have, but you remember him telling you about how he hunts for and cooks his own food and suppose that it builds up the same kind of callouses against heat. He flips (if: $player_meat is 0)[beautifully golden slices of tofu](elseif: $player_meat is 1)[long strips of chicken] with his bare hands, almost absent-mindedly with only a brief twitch as if to acknowledge that he could've just used a pair of tongs if he'd bothered to ask you where you keep them. "So what did you do?" you ask blearily. He doesn't turn to look at you, only half listening. "What?" "During the three days." "Look for you, obviously. Your death might kill me." "Did you feel anything when I was falling?" you ask. It was the closest to being dead that you really came, and if significant injury doesn't bother him then you can't imagine that you're so tightly bound that it's 'til death do you part. "I was feeling the whole time. You'll have to be more specific." "Fear. Adrenaline. Pain." You don't remember if it hurt when you fell. It should have, you think, because of all the raw glass, but you had bigger things to worry about and you're uninjured...which is also weird. Bright shouldn't have been able to slam you through a pane of glass without cutting you, but now that the panic's lifted you think you'd feel if you had three day old untreated, sweat-crusted gashes all over your back. He glances at you, seemingly unbothered by your state of undress. "H'm. No pain." (link: "\"So you were just worried about me?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"That doesn't tell me anything.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"That's good.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["I answered your question." "No, you just kind of told me that you were worried for a couple days. I'm trying to see if we're connected." You remember the red. Siruud's magic is red, his scales sometimes shine in a sourceless red halo...it had to have something to do with him. Bright's magic was a sickly, chemical blue, your magic is (if: $player_magic is "flame")[more of an orange-red](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[grey-blue](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[yellow-green], and unless you were saved by some random person in the building...well, it's not stupid to think Siruud was involved somehow.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Good?" he asks, casting a curious glance back at you. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I was just trying to see if it connected us." The evidence is kind of inconclusive—he could have been disturbed by your absence without it being an enchanted imperative, but there's the red glow to consider. That screams Siruud, and Bright was clearly trying to conjure him...maybe they did, kind of?](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["You asked me what I was feeling," he says in a faintly accusatory way. "And you told me you were worried about me." "Maybe you were worried about you and I was experiencing it all second hand." "Or, and hear me out here: maybe you were worried about me." He rolls his eyes and turns from you, which you take as your victory. "It doesn't prove anything either way; Bright thought we're connected somehow." It would explain the red light, but...well, you don't know whether or not it explains Siruud being affected by your absence. Neither of you are really sure how this works.] "There's an easy way to tell if we're linked through my magic—" "Our magic." All this and you still have to remind him that you're not a stray raccoon eating his garbage. "...our magic," he concedes, and you suddenly feel awkward. He doesn't usually fold that easily. "I can just try to channel power through you and we'll see what happens." "Were you doing that while I was missing?" you ask. "Not consciously, but you might have reached out to access a...shared cistern, if you will, in a moment of stress. As a magic user yourself, your body may have been attempting to lash out to save yourself even if you didn't purposely plan to. In lieu of a near death experience, however, I'll just...jog you, a little." (link: "\"Jog away.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Is it safe?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You don't think I'll explode?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["No follow up questions?" he asks, and you shrug. "Can't be more dangerous than throwing me out the window." "You know, I used to wonder what threads of fate were at work that of anyone who could have been in that office, it was you. I'm beginning to understand." It almost sounds sweet, until you realise he means that you're reckless. "I was on the job!" "A job that Tahira trusted with no one else." Well...not a lot you can say to that. "Fair enough. Ready when you are."](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[(if: $player_personality is "compassionate")["It is," he says solemnly. "At worst you'll feel a little power-drunk." "That'd be nice, for once," you mutter. You're not usually powerful enough to get drunk on it.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Safer than being hurled out a window," he says with an arched eyebrow, and you concede the point. He's not wrong...hopefully. "Fire away, then."](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["Would I purposely endanger you out of curiosity?" he asks, and you raise your eyebrows. He rolls his eyes. "There are faster ways to kill you, a thing I am unable to do anyway." "At least there's that," you mutter.]](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["I think I am unable to, by accident or otherwise, make you blow up," he says shortly. "Wonder how far that small mercy goes," you mutter, and he snorts. "We'll find out, I suppose, if you remain unexploded after this." It's not the ringing endorsement of caution and good sense that you might like to hear of someone who's about to turbo-load you with all the power you can handle...but at least he considered it, when prompted. "Let's do this then," you decide.] It occurs to you, briefly, that maybe you should have waited until you were at full capacity again; not for any perceived weakness, but because you're embarrassed to face him now knowing you had a bachelor's shower in the sink and still feel a little faint. He approaches your chair and effortly turns you to face him, his face focused and intense in the low light of your kitchen. He takes your hands and winds your fingers through his, your palm pitifully small in comparison. (if: $player_height is "short")[You're used to being the smallest person in any given group, but there's something almost frightening about being so severely outclassed—your spine tingles involuntarily.](elseif: $player_height is "tall")[You're not used to being this completely overwhelmed by another person, and the prickle of fear it sends down your spine is involuntary and...strange.](elseif: $player_height is "average")[No one has ever made you feel so completely overwhelmed before in sheer size difference—you feel a strange creaking in your jaw, a thrill of fear.] There's a glow of hot red light, like sinking into a bath too quickly and accidentally boiling yourself—that devastating moment where the primate in you slams its fists against the ground in a primal panic, only for you to grit your teeth and sit through it until it becomes bearable. The shroud of Siruud's enveloping heat intensifies, and you feel every inch of your skin prickle and burn as you stare into his liquid gold eyes, churning like a stormy sea. "(if: $player_magic is "flame")[Fire](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[Ice](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[Blight]," he orders shortly, his voice low, and (if: $player_magic is "flame")[fire erupts from you, weeping from your very skin in a red inferno](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[the chair beneath you and all the floor explodes into crystalline frost, spiralling out like a snowflake in a red glow](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[a cloak of shivering black, like bugs, like germs, like the deepest, lightless night, wraps the two of you together like the folding of wings in a furious red glow]. It's more potent than you've ever cast on your own, and feels like the frantic kicking of a wild horse.

"This may be a problem," Siruud says softly, like the effects would dart away like frightened prey if they heard him. You agree, wholeheartedly—things like this don't happen, they can't. The amount of energy it would take to channel one's magic through another is so all-encompassing, the effort so subsuming, that it's like slamming a full black coffee whenever you feel drowsy: it'd work for a little while, after which it would precipitously fail. But the two of you are bound, effortlessly. Whatever wall would normally exist between two people and their resources has been knocked down, and now you're a mess of entangled power and nigh-limitless reserves. It isn't a matter of whether or not this is an issue, but just how (link: "big a mess")[(goto: "trans")] you've gotten yourself into.

You should contact Tahira, but almost as soon as you think to do so your whole body tightens. She's not the last person you trust, but she's low on the list: she works for the company, you blew the fragile cover that the two of you had, and she has you trapped all the time. You cup (cycling-link: bind $drink_choice, "a coffee", "a tea", "an apple cider", "a hot chocolate") against your thick-feeling fingers, trying to bite down on the panic, to see if it can be overwhelmed by willpower. It has the inverse affect of making it worse, your hands starting to shake against the waxy paper cup. Bright could be anywhere—you don't even know what they are. Maybe the reason you feel watched is because you're being watched—don't cellphones have tracking devices in them? You make an erratic turn towards the counter and quickly drop your phone on top of it. "Do you have a charger?" you ask, aware that if they don't then you're not going to be wholly in control when you throw the thing off a bridge. "Just the one, but I can't lend it out," the cashier says with the flat indifference of the late shift. There's an invisible carapace around them that comes with dealing with the sorts of people who avoid the sun: people like you. "Could I leave my phone here to get it charged?" you ask. It's the perfect solution: you won't be tracked, and you'll get a full battery out of the deal. Assuming you can bring yourself to come back for it, of course.

The cashier passively allows your phone to be left there, and you leave them with some reassurance that you'll be back before the shift change to pick it up, hoping against hope that that's true. Back out on the street, your eyes dart back and forth, trying to find out who's watching you. It doesn't have to be Bright, and in fact it would make more sense if it wasn't. A tired looking woman dressed in old-fashioned diner waitress clothes, shivering at the bus stop, could be working for them; the surly looking kid with a violently red face in the cold couldn't be blamed for picking up spying work for whatever was in charge of SignetWorks. Fuck, there were pretty canny-looking birds staring down from their hydro-pole perches. You compulsively reach for your phone, before remembering that you don't have it on you. Relief battles panic, tearing you down the middle—no phone means no one is tracking you but no phone means no ambulance, no idea what time it is, no Tahira. You're alone—blissfully and horrifically alone. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[This is bad. There's a voice in your head that reminds you that no person is an island and that you are at your most vulnerable cut off from your only ally (or enemy, you remind yourself unhelpfully) and resources, all of which are an easy phone call away if you could just force yourself to make it. You've been here before—granted without the monster and the panic curse—and it wasn't any easier back then for lacking the supernatural elements.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[In the brief moments where you can think lucidly and logcally, you know that you're shooting yourself in the foot by getting rid of your phone. You need help: you can't do this by yourself, but at the same time you can't bring yourself to sit still long enough to charge the phone anyway. What good is it to you if it's dead? What good is it to Bright?](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You want to believe that you can do this: you're capable, and you've been alone before. You don't need anyone to get through this, you just need to willpower this stupid curse away so you can focus. There has to be somewhere quiet and secluded enough to just let you catch your breath, and then you can handle this whole thing. There's nothing in this world that a sufficient amount of willpower can't overcome.] The back of your neck prickles, and you take off down the street.

You feel your hand pulse under your glove and clench it into your pocket. It's been doing that, which you assume is something to do with Siruud—it pretty much has to be, right? That's the cursed arm, the one with the ugly bracelet you can't take off. You don't know if he's trying to track you too and you don't wanna find out. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[With a rock in your gut, you wish for Tahira, almost afraid that it'll summon her. You can't face her right now—it might be dangerous to even try—but fuck, maybe she'd at least break your curse. Maybe seeing her would do it. You can't keep this up and you need someone to help...why are you so sure that she won't?](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[You wither a little, shamefaced, about how much you'd like to see her. She could be working both sides without a blink of her eye, and you know how far she'll go to keep you where she needs you to be. Is this more convenient for her? You can't imagine it is, but you're afraid to hope that she'll swoop in, just the hero you needed all along.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You feel tears prickl at your eyes as you imagine her, your pulse out of control with terror and the shame of wanting it anyway. She has to be a double agent, or else she's being used against her will, and both mean that Bright will find you again, and when they do—would Tahira help you? Or did you fuck everything up when you blew your cover?] Your hand pulses again, hard and red like a sunburn underneath the cracked, ashen skin. The soft lines of grey ash put a volcanic emphasis on the dark red lines of magic, splitting your (if: $player_complexion is "black")[familiar dark](elseif: $player_complexion is "brown")[brown earth](elseif: $player_complexion is "tawny" or $player_complexion is "tan")[sun-warmed](elseif: $player_complexion is "pale" or $player_complexion is "pink")[pearly] skin into magmatic rock. There's an element of pain, but also of warmth—like when blood starts to rush into numb limbs, creating unbearable pins and needles but the promise of sensation. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You flex your hand, feeling your jaw tighten against the onslaught of vulnerability. "Fuck off! Not you and not now!"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You clutch your arm against your chest, your fingers shaking against your collarbone. "Please," you whisper into the dark. "Please, please, please, don't let him show up."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You flip the bird at no one, wondering if your invisible pursuer can tell that it's meant for him. "I got more where that came from, creep!"] The curse just has to break—the one that's making you paranoid, not your hand. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[Fuck, you have a lot of curses—it feels overwhelming for a second, but you clench your jaw. Paranoia first, then hand.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You feel the metaphorical water start to rise over your head and swallow back terror: too many curses, but one at a time. Just the fear, then the hand.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[Props to Bright for putting a curse on you that actually makes your hand a secondary concern—top tier cartoon villainy. Now you have to waste time fixing your endocrine system (which is busted on a good day) before you get to the matter of your hand.] That's it: easy. The curse needs to break and then you can take everything in its proper order—so how do you break it? Your hand pulses again, harder this time, and the pain briefly wins out over the numb tingling. You nearly stop, but your brain activates before the instinct to pause and you push forward through the pain; you don't want to indicate to anyone watching you that you're vulnerable, even as it starts to throb urgently. (link: "Is he close?")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You have to move faster.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "This is fine.")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[Move faster to where? you wonder as you feel your legs start to pump despite your very valid concerns about what the fuck you think this is going to do. This is nothing. I'm running from my own hand. Your frustration with yourself intensifies.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You're bolting away from the pain in your hand. Any pain or intesity or something just fucking nothing activates such a sharp and terrifying hit of adrenaline that puts you into flee mode. You can't help but laugh bitterly at yourself, and as you do your frustration with yourself sharpens like someone else is laughing at you.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[You look around but he's still not there. Is he fucking with you, because he can tell you're a mess? Is he waiting for Tahira to swoop in and save you, because she's not going to. Her ally, you, has totally lost control of their internal systems in such a severe way that it never ends. There's no light at the end of the tunnel and you don't expect one. All you want is a helping hand and she's denying you that and for what? Your throat feels tight and angry, which just makes you angrier because none of this is true, you just believe it. The person you're angriest with is yourself.] The hand throbs hard enough to glow and this time you're forced to stop, forced to your knees with the agony of whatever's happening to you. And then it's over, and your mind clears like a lifted fog. You sit in trembling relief as the adrenaline fades and everything hits you all at once. First and foremost, you're starving. You haven't eaten a full meal since your meeting with Bright; it's been easier to take sips of drinks before becoming convinced that you were being watched or the barista spiked them with something, and even those haven't fully slaked your thirst. Besides being hungry, thirsty, and feeling the vague need to piss, you're also noticably filthy. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[It hasn't gone this far since your crisis, pre-SignetWorks. The owners of the local gyms didn't want to let you in to use their amenities even if you could've scraped together the change to pay for entry, and you were between couches as people alternatively lost hope that your slump was temporary and started to somehow become more and more afraid of you—like the poor was catching, like you'd start stealing their precious mall-purchased cutlery to pawn like it was real silver and they were living in a posh period-drama level estate.](else:)[You can't remember ever feeling this gross, like a sleepover at someone else's house intensified to a thousand, just one more day without a shower ballooning into two weeks in the hot sun without even the benefit of a cloth to take the grease off your face. It hasn't been long enough for how dirty you feel, suddenly embarrassed. Maybe people really were staring at you because you were so filthy it broke the social contract.] And then, like all that wasn't enough, you're too exhausted to decide on what needs to be solved first: it all suddenly feels insurmountable, ten big things breaking down into a million small things. You don't know how much money you have on you, and you only know what part of town you're in without how to navigate it or how to leave it for the one you actually live in. The urge to cry bubbles up inside of you, (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[even as you slam down on it as hard as you can](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[laughter leaking against your lips and probably make you look even less hinged than you already do](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[and you're ready to give in a just bawl until you feel better]. "$first!"

Tahira. With the curse lifted, you're too tired to do anything but weakly swing your head in her direction. Poppy, Ginger, and Jade are standing alongside her, still identical although now dressed in red, orange, and green jumpsuits respectively. Looking at them feels too much like you're dreaming, though, so you focus on Tahira. Her braid is loose and fraying, and she seems almost taller than usual. You imagine her shadow jittering, scrambling to get away from her and towards you: luckily, you're too exhausted for it to terrify you right now. "I've been scrying for three days," she bursts, her voice nearly braying. "Where in the faintest fuck have you been?" You can't tell if she's angry at you or just venting, but it's not the immediate attack that your cursed brain had conjured. (link: "It's almost familiar: this isn't your first 'mental health episode'.")[(set: $player_neuro to "alt")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You'd appreciate a little less intensity.")[(set: $player_neuro to "typical")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $player_neuro is "alt")[It's like birdsong at this point, so familiar to you that you barely hear it unless you're listening. You've literally never chosen to lose touch with reality to such a degree that you stop being able to take care of yourself or really gauge your rationality levels, but shit happens, and the uninitiated always react like this. No, T, I wasn't purposely not contacting you. Yes, T, I would have called in for back up if I could have. Really the difficult thing to explain about this situation is that for once it wasn't your brain. The trigger came from outside the house, and the fact that Bright is able to do that, whether they knew that they could manipulate your specific brain or if they can do that to anyone and you just recognise the symptoms...it's troubling.](elseif: $player_neuro is "typical")[(if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You've been here before, jittery and unstable and looking for some way to exert a little control and not being able to find anything. People underestimate how close to the edge you can get from purely external circumstances, but this level of loss that Bright was able to simulate on a whim...it's scary. You don't have the words to describe to anyone exactly how deeply this reached into your nervous system and tugged. That Bright is capable of such a thing...it's dangerous in a way that you're afraid to articulate.](else:)[You've never felt such a severe loss of control if your life. The potent cocktail of paranoia and helplessness driving you constantly forward when all you needed in the world was to stop and take stock...it was a perfectly designed curse, meant to completely wipe your function. It almost did: how do you explain that to Tahira? Even trying to remember where you were yesterday and what your plan had been is feels both impossible and destructive. You don't want to remember: you're afraid that thinking about it too hard will conjure it. That Bright can command that kind of power at will makes you feel worse than helpless.]] "$first?!" Tahira lunges forward and takes your shoulders, and you realise that you'd slouched as you thought. You're exhausted and weak and so it must've looked like you were about to pass out. (if: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Sorry," you murmur faintly, making a concentrated effort to keep your head upright](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["Relax, I'm fine," you grouse, your head swinging losely on your neck](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Do I look that good?" you ask blearily, most of your brain power going to powering the muscles that keep your head upright]. "(upperfirst: $he) (if: $gender_plural contains $he)[require](elseif: $gender_singular contains $he)[requires] medical attention," Jade says shortly. "I know that," Tahira snaps.

Her magic comes over you like a heavy blanket and you sag under its weight—at first dangerously, but then in relief. This level of neglect can't be washed away with magic alone, but it's nice to feel like you can stand up on your own again. You hold yourself up as soon as you're able, but it quickly becomes clear that no amount of magic is going to wash away three days of hyper-paranoid cat naps and a total lack of basic hygiene. (if: $player_neuro is "alt")[Not your first rodeo, and you can say with confidence that you prefer an imperfect band-aid to having to come down on your own and fix everything yourself.](else:)[It's almost frustrating, to have it barely handled by a quarter and still feel like there's a mountain of work you're going to have to do by yourself.] "How's that?" Tahira asks, looking blurry and bleary. You blink your eyes hard, wishing for a cloth. (if: $player_neuro is "alt")[(if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Fine," you say gruffly](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Hunky dory," you assure her](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Good. Thanks," you murmur]. She doesn't seem to believe you, but gnaws her lip instead of arguing.](elseif: $player_neuro is "typical")[(if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Fucking fantastic, clearly," you grit out](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Oh just great! Can't you tell?" you ask bitterly](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Fine," you mumble; you're clearly not fine but it's all you can stand to respond with]. She softens, her body curled into a crouch beside you.] Her council, having been watching the two of you with a flat indifference, moves in. "What happened, $first?" Jade asks. "I was at the meeting." You think of SignetWorks, the office, your cellphone, and your brain turns to slush. You press your first to the middle of your forehead—you have to think—but the static over your thoughts persists. "At the meeting, I..." There's blue...magic, from Bri—you instinctively (cycling-link: "flinch", "bite your wrist", "squeeze your eyes shut"), your brain force-wiping your entire train of thought. "I was at the meeting—" you try again. "Don't force it, $first," Tahira insists, and all three of the girls frown. "We need to know," Poppy reminds her, and Tahira blurs again. You rub your eyes. "And we will. When $first is well enough to tell us." You shiver at her tone and open your eyes, blinking the fog out of them. Tahira's on her feet, striding over to a rack of electric scooters with thick, expensive steel locks. She grabs hold of one and it turns into a snake, slithering down her hand and into the manicured bushes. She picks up the scooter by the bar and lifts it away from the rack. (link: "\"The wheels are locked.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Is that for all of us?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What the hell are you doing?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Like I would use one of these awful things."](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["It will be."](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["Getting us a lift."] She throws the scooter out into the road, and it shudders mid-air (you blink a couple of times to be sure) and warps. Pink and gold light explodes from the unformed blob, and a motorcycle hits the road with a noisy, metallic grinding sound. The body bounces before settling, a fully formed bike waiting to be used, its engine purring. Tahira smiles faintly and despite how much you might've liked to lie flat in the backseat of a proper car...the bike is cool. She strides up to the plush seat with a self-satisfied grin, swinging her leg over the heavy thing that purrs like a great beast. (if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[She tries to inch it forward, to meet your slouching form on the sidewalk, but instead of a gentle roll the engine revs; she frowns. "The wheels are locked," you repeat, then hold out your hand. "If you give me your phone I can fix it." "Where's yours?" she asks, and you flush. "The cafe, Snacks. I left it to get charged." You don't mention the paranoid hysteria. Tahira nods at Ginger who vanishes, and holds out her cell phone. It doesn't take you long to download the app that force-overrides the wheel-locking mechanism for the puny electric scooter turned enormous magical motorcycle, and Tahira jolts forward with a satisfied yelp. She pauses to meet you in place, smiling in approval. "Let's get out of here."](else:)[She drives it up a few inches to your slouching form, beaming the whole time. "Impressive," you concede with a weak smile, and she flicks her braids behind her shoulders. "I know. Are you ready to go?" It occurs to you that you need to collect yourself, the first step of which is to admit that you've spent the past three days pretty much losing it. "I need my phone; I left it back at Snacks; to charge," you add, as if in your own defence. Tahira nods to Ginger, who vanishes. "Let's get out of here," she suggests, and you literally could not agree harder.] The city flies by you in blurry colours that you see almost like you're underwater. The amber of cheap, dying streetlamps melts into the mellow navy of the darkened road, sleeping store fronts and empty bus stops offering hazy white orbs. Tahira weaves between cars and the light is never red as the two of you dive into busy highways made of endless gold, a river of black above you as the sky peers through the white-lit skyscrapers and yellow lamps.

You try again, for her sake, to remember the past three days. You watch the cars melt into nothing behind you and imagine cramped alley spaces that stayed dark all day, whose lights flickered so soft and broken that they didn't reveal you sitting cramped down between delivery boxes or in the deep shadow of a dumpster. It stank (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[but what the hell do you care, with survival on the line? Garbage stinks, you stunk, what was vital was that Bright couldn't see you from the street.](else:)[but you were willing to push through it, push through anything, for survival. It probably didn't improve your personal perfume at that point, but what mattered was that Bright couldn't see you from the road.] Not that you'd seen them, but you wouldn't have, would you? They'd just sneak up, all slavering maw and glowing eyes— —no, that's not helping. So you're in the alley and you're hiding...had you seen something? Someone? Probably not: you didn't need to, as you would invent a worst-case regardless. There was something wrong with you, something exterior—something that broke, after a three-day long fight. At first you'd hardly noticed the throbbing in your hand—there was just so much to focus on—but by day three you'd been dreading its red pulse. It had to be Siruud, but why? If he was trying to find you himself then he failed, spectacularly so. If he was trying to break whatever curse you were under—not the arm one, the paranoia one—then he'd done it, but how had he known? Had he been affected too? You feel your weight drop to one side, but the actual balance of the bike doesn't shift. Experimentally you shift again and realise that Tahira's magic must be keeping you in place—it would make sense for her to not want to split her physical attention on keeping you upright and driving the vehicle. After a little more experimentation to make sure that you're not just imagining things, especially in your current state of mind, you realise that there's nothing actually keeping you from falling asleep. You don't think twice about it, after that.

The Chamber, ??? (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[When you come to, you can hear the very distant throbbing of loud music and people shouting. You feel your pulse spike groggily before you realise they're yelling together: you're in the Council's inner chamber in The Grind. There's a soft almost ambient bass, like a heartbeat threading through the walls, but otherwise it's silent in here. You're wrapped in a heavy blanket and laying flat on their awkward sofa. You sit up and look around for Tahira and her friends, but for the moment you're alone. There's a little basket full of things on a table beside your couch, one that wasn't here the last time you were: there's face wipes(unless: $player_hair is "shaved")[, dry shampoo, hair ties,](if: $player_hair is "shaved")[,] deodorant, lip balm, mouthwash, floss, and sitting neatly beside the basket, your fully charged phone. You have quite a few missed calls, texts, all from T. The latest one was sent two hours ago. {<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">How's the meeting going? Is Bright being weird?</div> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Thursday • 01:23</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Are you STILL in the meeting?</div> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Thursday • 02:35</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">$first what the hell is going on my phone is blowing up</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">They called the COPS? Text me back RIGHT NOW</div> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Thursday • 05:02</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Where are you? $first I'm being so fucking serious right now, pick up your phone.</div> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Thursday • 13:21</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">(uppercase: $first)! I can't get near the building where are you?!</div> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Friday • 06:13</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">It's been like a whole day, $first, where are you?</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">I know they don't know where you are either.</div> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Friday • 20:41</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Just let me know you're alive! Did you ditch your phone?</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Fuck, you probably ditched your phone..</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">How am I supposed to find you like this.</div> <div style="width: 100%; font-size: 50%; text-align: center;">Sunday • 02:13</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Hey $first! We wanted to let you sleep for a while, but text me when you're up and we can bring in some food and talk. We'll talk, that is. You just eat lol.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">(cycling-link: bind $_reaction, "food pls", "I'm up", "hey")</div> </div> </div>}]

For a second you expect the door to immediately be thrown open, but it turns out some things are still normal: Tahira texts back a thumbs up and one sec, leaving you to the basket. It's not exactly the fully-kitted out shower that you suspect you could use at this point, but you're going to need a little more than a power nap to recover the kind of energy you need to detail yourself like a car. Taking off a layer of panic sweat from under your arms, (cycling-link: "days-old makeup from your myriad facial folds and crevices", "a puberty-level oil event off your face"), and applying the critically necessary layer of vaguely woodsy-smelling deodorant makes you at least feel like you could face another person without complete humiliation. Just as you're trying to decide where to put the used cloths in a haze of mild discomfort—(if: $player_neuro is "alt")[and isn't it so typical that you can still be plagued by social discomfort even after a three day certified Mental Health Event (maliciously and magically induced by a third party instead of maliciously and chemically induced by your brain)?](elseif: $player_neuro is "typical")[although social discomfort is suddenly paling in comparison to a three day Panic Event]—they disappear in a flurry of wind and glitter, and Tahira arrives. She's got the rest of your kit—a bundle of cloth that you assume is a change of clothes, and (cycling-link: "a warm bowl of veggie rice porridge", "a warm bowl of chicken rice porridge", "a hot bowl of spicy ramen", "a hot bowl of ramen", "a steaming helping of mac and cheese", "a herbacious bowl of chicken soup", "a saucy plate of pasta", "a bowl of miso soup filled with soft tofu", "a tightly packed grilled sandwich")—and places it quickly but elegantly down on the table. The council piles in after her, looking...strange, which is impressive for three things that can't figure out how to look different from one another. It occurs to you that you've never asked what they are. Their human faces blur and warp, like the monitors they display their collective face on are lagging. Their expressions move too much or too slow, and the lines and details blur so completely it makes your eyes cross. If Tahira notices, she's ignoring them. "Eat up," she says, peppy with a very firm undertone. You're used to that—it's the same way she tells you to take the rest of the night off, even when you're running banker math and oracle foresight in your head to gauge whether or not you can afford to stop a couple hours early, even if it's the difference between the geographical location of your organs in relation to the weak, weak flesh meant to be packaging it all up safe. Peppy-firm Tahira is not to be fucked with, though, so you obediently get started.

"Do you remember now?" asks one of the council. You can't really tell who, as their colours are indistinct and almost...iridescent, bioluminescent, shifting and changing so fast and in shades you don't even really have a name for, so the colour-coded names are kind of off the table now. "How you were saved," another prompts. Tahira turns to scowl at them, but it's a valid question; maybe you'd prefer to get calories inside your aching body and groggy brain first, but if they're not gunna let you then they're not gunna let you. "There was a light while I was falling," you say, your brain blurring the image as you think back. Your pulse picks up but you try to force your way past the panic—you're not falling, and Tahira needs this information. "And a butterfly?" All three of them turn to look at Tahira, who frowns before understanding dawns on her face. "I blessed you!" she bursts. "After you were served the paperwork." The three faces of the council settle a little, once again slipping into something a little more parsable. It feels like forever ago—you barely remember being served at all now, all the CPU in your brain occupied with not remembering the far more recent crisis. Nothing unusual comes to mind: you remember that she reassured you as you started to spiral, but nothing that reads as a blessing. Priestesses usually need a full set up to do something like that. "I uh—you were panicking so I kissed your forehead." You remember, but that's hardly a formal ceremony. (link: "Point out that it couldn't have worked like that.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(set: $tahira_suss to it + 1)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "She knows more than you, you guess.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(Set: $tahira_suss to it + 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["Aren't rituals really complicated?" you ask, and she pauses, tilting her head. "They can get really complex," she says in an explain-tone. "The way I do it is less intense than how the priest-class you know are able to do it." "Why?" You're not priest-class, but you're pretty sure there's only one way to train them, especially in Sanctum City. "I'm better than them," she says with a pointed grin. "And I probably knew more going into the position than they'd ever learn from official channels." "Where did you learn?" you ask, and she shrugs. "My family taught me." You take a deep breath because now her answers are short and you'd have to drill down through layers to get to the core of the answer, which is what does that have to do with your rituals being hyper-condensed? Asking that directly would invite the same coy side-stepping, so where do you go from here? |questions>[(link: "\"What...are the council?\"")[(replace: ?questions)["What...are the council?" "What are they?" she repeats, and you nod because the answer isn't human. You could pass for stupid in the right circumstances, but you'd need to be adult in a children's cartoon level dumb to miss the fact that these three same-faced and/or completely faceless people are just normal humans. "They're—they're fey," she says awkwardly. "Why are they hanging around with you?" you ask, and she sighs. "Well they're my friends, but they also owe me so they have to hang around on this quest even if they don't like it." She seems to understand why you asked, anyway. "They owe you?" How do you know so little about this person you've worked with all this time and considered a genuine, not-just-work friend? "That's what I said." And with that you're pretty sure you've exhausted the sharing portion of the evening. You could press the issue, but it wouldn't do anything but start a fight and you're not in an arguing mind-state. (set: $tahira_suss to it + 1)]] (link: "\"Where did your family learn that kind of trick?\"")[(replace: ?questions)["Where did your family learn that kind of trick?" "How should I know?" she asks with a slight laugh. "If they taught it to you then someone knows," you point out, and she shrugs. "When did your family learn their native language?" she asks, and you pause. "When did they learn to cook all the recipes they pass down? Magical strategy can be as variable as any other skill you can pass down. There's influence from outside sources, and I never had any formal training." That sounds about right, given what a joke SignetWorks background checks are: sometimes they get lucky and get someone way above their skill threshold, and most of the time they get someone who can light a candle without a match and that's their entire qualification.]] (link: "Fuck it, whatever.")[(replace: ?questions)[What is this, a fable? Are you going to ask your boss your riddles three and trick her into telling you...what, exactly? You know she's being weird and evasive on purpose. You know that her vendetta against Siruud takes priority over just about everything, gleefully including open and honest communication, to the point where even her strange friends don't like it. You've already grilled her about the rituals and she side-stepped the question: it's done. It's not that you're not curious, of course, but it feels more important to force yourself back into fighting shape rather than try to play 4D chess trying to get Tahira to lie to you in a way that can't be easily denied or refuted, just so you can start an argument that ends with her shrugging it off anyway.]]] (link: "Try to drill down on the event.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Well, you\'ve done your part.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You dig into your food, at least satisfied that you've done your part in solving this mystery even if you clearly still don't really get how Tahira does her job. Isn't it just like SignetWorks to, likely by total accident, actually hire a competent and powerful magic user that isn't just moment away from setting her own ass on fire...or else maybe that's how T managed to sneak in to get the resources she needed. A little flash, a little ceremony, and boom, a cushy job with the right adminstrative passwords. It worked out okay for you in the end, as Tahira has once again saved your skin. It's a little worrying that she didn't seem to mean to this time, but so long as the miracles keep rolling in you won't question the universe's paperwork too hard. There's still a lot that's less clear cut than that though—falling out the window wasn't the only thing to happen to you recently, and you're pretty sure Tahira's blessing didn't have anything to do with ending your curse. (link: "Try to remember more.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Wait to be prompted.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_temp is 0)[There was more than just the window rescue: the curse was broken, and it seemed to be directly related to issues with your already-cursed hand, which remains cursed to this very moment. That has to have some significance, but you can't really cobble together what it is in your head. Maybe that you have access to Siruud's magic somehow? But what benefit is that to you—you've cast your own magic since being cursed, and not experienced any unusual behaviour or side-effects.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[It's hard for you to stay upright right now, so if they want more out of you then they're going to have to be specific, or else you're sticking with your food and only looking up to find a good place to lay down. There's more, like why you were completely unable to contact anyone or take care of yourself for three days, and they'd probably have some ideas about why it happened and how you snapped out of it, but they're the ones interested and you're the injured party here.] You're saved from the agony of trying to articulate anything, though, because the council is no longer actively twitching, but menacingly...wobbling. They're close enough to their regular colours now, though, that you can tell them apart again. "Has Bright been in pursuit?" Jade asks, and the other two nod at her shoulders. "Hard to...say. I have no evidence that they were, but I've been convinced they are for three days." At their confused looks, you avert your eyes back to the food. "I think it was another curse." "Another one?" Tahira asks, and you shrug. (link: "\"Just my luck!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Not like I asked for it.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Yeah...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "charismatic")["I wouldn't personally call it luck, but whatever helps you sleep at night," T teases.](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["At this point I'd be concerned for your health if you were asking for all this," Tahira laughs.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Hey, you're beating curses at a crazy rate, considering the typical curse-rate for the average person is zero," Tahira said, nudging you comfortingly.] "You think it was a curse?" Poppy asks, shuddering into smoke and dimensions. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Yeah. Was. Why?" The council is acting weird on top of their usual brand of weird and you've had it with their paranoid not-accusations. What are they so fucking bothered by?](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Yeah. It broke just before you guys found me." You glance over at Tahira, to gauge whether or not she thinks you've been hiding out on purpose, but her face reveals nothing.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Well I'm no expert, but I wasn't on the run for three days because I was feeling calm and in control of the situation," you shoot back. Clearly they want to say something to you, so they should get around to saying it.] "What broke it?" The colours vanish again and you feel a swell of almost half-hearted panic, like a reflex that your body can't quite summon the right chemicals to make happen. "I don't know." You probably would have led with that if you did.

The smoke in the room intensifies and you sit back with a roll of your eyes. "Are you gunna clue me in or just keep doing martime flag signals at Tahira?" In lieu of an answer, the room gets...denser, somehow, the texture of space fluctuating in a way that it probably shouldn't. It makes you nauseous in an appearing-and-disappearing kind of way, which makes you think of Bright, which makes your throat feel tight and your head too hot— "Enough," Tahira snaps. The fluctuation pauses, as least, and you take a slow breath. "They're worried that you're able to use Siruud's magic unconsciously," she says shortly, and the room goes back to normal with the three of them sitting tersely across from you. They're not calm, but the reality-shifting has been put up on the high shelf. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["I can't really control that, can I?" And if you could, it'd only be a benefit: you should all want someone on your team to have the power to do more than heal and make a room feel weird and wrong.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["I wish! We should all be so lucky!" If it's true, you should all be busting your asses to figure out how to make it something you can do consciously.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Oh. Well, my hand was freaking out for a while there." You're not sure if that means you can use his magic, though: maybe the stronger curse just managed to outlast the weaker one.] "Unfortunately if you're linked to him, that means he's linked to you," she says gravely. "We can't know if he's been watching us this whole time." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You scowl, your skin prickling with something you refuse to call fear. You just spent three days afraid of being watched, and now you find out you just thought it was the wrong person?](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You open your mouth to protest that you would have noticed if he was creeping on you, but...would you have? Surely at minimum he would have done something about the wealth of free information he's sitting on: Tahira's not subtle about what her goals are, and if he's just hanging back and waiting for the two of you to show up and fight him then he's almost dangerously unpredictable.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[Your skin prickles with fear that your body is still too tired to fully express. It makes you feel vaguely like you've been tied to the train tracks and just heard a big horn in the distance. These three days and maybe you've only been wrong about who was watching you.] (link: "\"Maybe he was affected too.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What a creep!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What do we do about it?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["I'm glad you're being proactive," she says seriously, her eyes taking you in with a thoughtful pull. You fight down the feeling of self-consciousness. "Because there's something we can do to try and fix things, but I don't know that you're going to like it." "That's ominous." No one would know your limits better, though.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["It's possible," she concedes, and you realise that Tahira's eyes are suddenly locked on you intensely. You stiffen up, looking around like you're going to find a used tissue stuffed under your leg. "We can close the window altogether, though, instead of hoping that he means well." "I didn't say that," you protest. You kind of did, but you'd hoped more that you didn't have to worry about an archdemon maliciously spying on you, more than you were worried about people not judging him harshly.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["We think," Tahira corrects, and you incline your head curiously. "Now we're defending him?" you ask, and she snorts. "Not quite, but...well, I have a way to close whatever window he may have open, but I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to scare you into doing it." Maybe a month ago the idea of some magic Tahira wanted to do on you wouldn't have bothered you. Now...you're cautious, to put it kindly.] "The connection must be severed," Ginger says, her whole body stretching like a dead, stripped tree. "We can't risk him finding us." "He would already know," Jade says, slumping so low that it seems like she shrinks. "We've been compromised from the start." "But he doesn't pursue," Poppy points out, checking her nails—her more accurately, talons—casually. "So something's stopping him." "Maureen?" "Doubtful." "Maybe his window isn't clear." "Can we rely on that?" Tahira straightens, reasserting her presence. "Girls? Can I get to the solution?" You sure hope so: the tension's killing you, and if they keep warping you're gunna barf or something.

They fall quiet again and Tahira looks at you, reaching out to take your hands in hers. You feel clunky and battered in her grasp, but instead of self-conscious it makes you feel a little rugged. You're her champion, after all, whether you like it or not. It'd be nice to be a thing worthy to wield, instead of her only option. "As it stands, you're kind of...an unofficial warlock," she explains, and you raise your eyebrows. "He's not willingly giving you power and you don't seem to be able to easily wield the power you do siphon, but that's the pertinent comparison." "But we don't have a contract," you argue, and she smiles, but it's more of a wince. "The binding isn't the same as a contract!" you insist, and she nods. "No, but that's what it's acting as. Eggs don't have a contract with flour, they just bind them: but I said I had a solution." You'd like to think the solution is to immediately break the binding, but that's not going to happen because it's keeping Siruud in Sanctum City. "You could make an official contract with me." Okay. Okay... What? (if: $tahira_suss >= 2)[(link: "\"You are gunna make a contract with me.\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)]](else:)[(link: "\"Can you...do that?\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]] (link: "\"Is that like...the whole plan?\"")[(set: $_temp to 2)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[(set: $tahira_suss to 1)"Yes, me," she responds. Her voice has taken on that careful tone that you're starting to get familiar with: she talks calmly, keeps her answers short, and will only state facts even if she starts to speak recursively. Probably so I can't accuse her of lying, you think bitterly. "And how am I going to enter a warlock pact with a human?" you demand. "I can make it happen, don't worry," she says, addressing the wrong issue. "Another family secret?" you ask, and she nods, her expression carefully blank. "What the fuck is going on here, Tahira!?" "We need to close his access to you, and in the process I can make sure you have more than enough magic to fight the battle ahead," she says, which still doesn't address your problem. "What are you?" you demand, because humans can't enter warlock pacts with other humans. That's just...nothing. "I'm a person who's offering you a way to close the gate in the face of the demon trying to spy on you," she snaps, finally losing her cool a little. You suspect it's because you wandered a little too close to the truth this time.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[(set: $tahira_suss to 0)"I can," she confirms softly. She's always so careful around you, something that you have...mixed feelings about. On one hand, you're in over your head in a big way, which is in no small part because she's choosing to keep you in the dark about a lot of things. On the other, she's looking out for you. No one knows you better than her, and you get the feeling that she feels bad about it. Is this a for your own good schtick? Would she tell you if it was? She seems a little cannier than to let herself be talked out of this overprotectiveness.](elseif: $_temp is 2)[(set: $tahira_suss to 0)"Yes. Entering a separate and more direct contract should cut off whatever extraneous access he has to you outside of the binding," she says, taking a firm and confident tone. You like it—you always like her don't worry, I know what I'm talking about voice—but... "Doesn't this seem a little extreme? Like what kind of contract are we drawing up here?" Warlocks aren't super common, because the huge downside to selling yourself to a being of superior power over you is that a being of superior power over you is suddenly in charge of your whole shit. Regardless of whether or not she would want that kind of control...it's not the kind of thing you cede on a whim. "Better me than him, no?" she asks. "Better neither of you," you argue.] "Enough," Ginger snaps. "The window must be closed." "$first?" Tahira asks, and you make direct eye contact with her. (link: "\"Do it.\"")[(set: $tahira_pact to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"No, T.\"")[(set: $tahira_pact to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $tahira_pact is 1)[She nods serenely, then raises her arm so her palm is level with your face. Her hand glows with a complex white rune that burns into your vision like you're staring directly into headlights, but you can't look away. You feel it sear into your core, pressing somewhere inside you that you're not even sure that you have access to. There's a surge of white-hot power that blooms in your veins, and you gasp at the heat and intensity of it. And then it's over. You look down at your hands, like you expect to look different somehow...maybe like, four percent more cool because you've got wild priestess powers now. Can you heal? Is that like, an instinctive thing you can do now? Should you try or would that be weird? Will she know if you're fucking around with her magic later? "Are you okay?" she asks, which you take to mean that she can't hear your running commentary. "Yeah. I feel a little...weird." It's hard to explain. It's kind of like when you're overstimulated, but not as straightforwardly bad as that. Maybe you'd describe it as like, being an an art show you don't quite get but are turning over in your head. You notice, suddenly, that the council vanished: it's just the two of you now. "I think I'd like to go home?" You can't handle the Grind right now, and you'd like to be as far away from her friends as you can until they're feeling less weird.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 0)["I was hoping you wouldn't say that, $first," she says, closing her eyes. "But I need you to do this for me. It's for the best right now." (if: $tahira_suss is 1)["Like hell it is," you laugh incredulously. How can she say that?](elseif: $tahira_suss is 0)["Even if it is, I don't think we should." You're no therapist, but this just can't be good for your relationship.] "You forgot, though, that you made me a promise." Her eyes open and you frown. "Back at the club, you said you promised to help me." "I also promised some kid in elementary school that I'd marry them. What's your point?" you ask, and she shakes her head. "A promise means something." she says, raising her hand. "It's more than just words." "What the hell are you doing?!" you demand, trying to step back. Nothing...happens. Your body doesn't respond to your urgency. "Tahira?" Her hand glows with a complex white rune that burns into your vision like you're staring directly into headlights, but you can't look away. You feel it sear into your core, pressing somewhere inside you that you're not even sure that you have access to. There's a surge of white-hot power that blooms in your veins, and you gasp at the heat and intensity of it. And then it's over. "What the fuck did you do?!" you shout, and she leans her head on her hand. "Be more specific," she says, almost encouraging. "Why couldn't I move?!" "Because you promised you would help me. This is how I needed you to help me." Stupid. Stupid. How were you supposed to fight this? On how many layers are you fighting this. "You'll be free as soon as Siruud's dealt with." (if: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Right, of course. Sure. Fucking naturally, so I should stop panicking, right?"](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")["Fuck you."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["How could you?"] "I did what had to be done," she says firmly. "I didn't do it to spite you or because I don't respect you—" (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["I'd fucking hate to see what it looks like when you don't respect me."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["And don't I just feel so fucking respected right now?!"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["This isn't how you treat people you respect."] "I did it because otherwise he can use you." She stops and the silence rings between you. The council vanished. "They wouldn't have tolerated your involvement if I hadn't done it," she adds in a low voice. "And you wouldn't let me leave," you accuse, and she tightens her jaw. "Don't pretend you were being noble." That seems to offend her. "I'm not trying to be noble! You just have to trust me right now." "I can't." And, you don't add, I won't. She hasn't done dick all to earn the benefit of the doubt. "I want to go home now."] "Of course," she says softly.

Home, ??? (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[The motorcycle's engine cuts on the sidewalk outside your building, and you feel antsy to get inside. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You've had about all you can stand of this awkward, monitored feeling you're getting from her, on top of how fucking angry you are](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[The thought of getting a deep clean and then going to bed is so euphoric you'd do just about anything to do it, and you think that Tahira might need some time to process the whole...warlock thing. She seemed nervous on the drive over]. "Call you later?" she asks. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Don't have a choice now, do I?" you ask shortly.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Sure. I'll try not to vanish again." She laughs faintly enough that you don't think your joke was very funny.] She doesn't hang around after that, peeling off into the cold night and leaving you dishevelled and tired outside your apartment. You feel for your keys, happily still on your person, and push yourself through to the lobby. The familiar smell is almost too much, and nearly overwhelming once you're inside your own space again, and you take a second to breathe it in. You're alive. You're not being hunted, at least not actively. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You don't think Tahira would leave you alone without being fairly sure you're not so wanted as to make taking out your trash an invitation to get swatted—you're too valuable.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[You'd asked Tahira about your wanted status on the ride over, but she told you not to worry: for whatever reason, SignetWorks wasn't disclosing anything about you to the public. Maybe they're trying to find you, but they're not enlisting your neighbours to tattle and Tahira doesn't seem against the idea of you spending the night alone.]]

Experimentally, you hold out your hand and pull from that well inside of you. You summon (if: $player_magic is "flame")[a soft gout of fire, not hot enough to bring a pot of soup to a boil](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[a flurry of snowflakes that shoot into the air and drift down](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[a ball of gas, yellowish and thick but properly contained and obedient], waiting for it to feel different...waiting for you to feel different, or to get some sign that Tahira's internal magical pager gets pinged every time you make a move. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You need some kind of confirmation that she's exerting control, or even just watching you, but you're not going to get it. Even if she was aware, she wouldn't tell you because she knows it'd piss you off.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[You don't think she's interested in micromanaging you quite that much, but you'd like to know if you're setting her off every time you (if: $player_magic is "flame")[boil water with your hand instead of turning the stove on](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[make ice cubes the fast way](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[speed-decompose your leftovers] so you can maybe try to be less annoying. Would she think that was annoying?] Nothing I can do about it now, you tell yourself. For better or worse, you're more than Tahira's champion now: (link: "you're her warlock")[(goto: "trans")].

Home, 03:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[You're on the couch with a big blanket wrapped around your shoulders while Siruud cleans. It's been days since he found you again, and you've found there's no amount of distance that you can put between yourself and the event that'll convince him that you're actually good to get back to normal. You've bathed (multiple times, even), you've eaten (he's made sure of that, to the point where you're starting to feel a strange almost pity for your past self who thought about things like how much groceries cost and how much time and energy you were willing to sink into making something that you really wanted to eat), and he still has you back on the couch, resting like you're going to shake into pieces. There's been nightmares, of course, but they would only wake you up for a day or so after you got home; after that you just uncomfortably dragged yourself through your complete, if disquiet, REM cycle. The two of you haven't tried your mutual magic trick since the first time, although that's about to change: Maureen is coming over to assess the situation. That's why Siruud is tearing through your apartment and cleaning things it's never even occurred to you to think of. He's dusting the base boards. (link: "\"Would you just let me help?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You missed a spot.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I'm going to go fix—\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)]]

(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")["No." He doesn't even look up to scold you for asking anymore. "It's embarrassing!" you insist. "I made the mess!" "No," he repeats, even though it doesn't really follow.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Hard not to, in the state your apartment is in," he responds mildly, without missing a beat. "Hey now, I've had some stuff going on lately," you tease. You've already tried helping and were told in no uncertain terms that you weren't required for this task. "Which is why I'm cleaning it. Be quiet."](elseif: $_reaction is "irritable")["No, you're not. Sit," he says shortly, eyeing you warningly. You frown. "I just want to—" "Go to the washroom? Get a snack? A drink?" he asks, and you roll your eyes. "No, I'll just go and—" "No. Sit."] (if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[You slouch a little in your seat, frustrated but...grateful. You neither wanted Maureen to see what a mess your life has devolved into since your misadventures began, nor did you want to tackle that mess on your own.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You wrinkle your nose at him but don't argue—you certainly don't want to clean, but cleaning has to be done because otherwise Maureen is going to see what happens to an apartment when your whole life turns inside-out.](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[You slouch back on the couch with a scowl; at this point you know that he's perfectly happy to enforce you staying seated, so the only thing arguing will do is make the cleaning take longer.] "Thank-you," you (if: $player_personality is "compassionate")[say instead of pushing it further.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[hum, even meaning it!](elseif: $player_personality is "irritable")[grit out instead of arguing more.] Strangely, that seems to unsettle him just as much as offering to help. "Does be quiet mean something different to you than to regular people?" he asks shortly.

The next time you stand, you raise your hands placatingly when his head snaps towards you in annoyance. "I'm going to get a drink." "If I hear scrubbing then we're going to see exactly what I can do with a warlock," he threatens, and you roll your eyes. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["It goes both ways," you snap haltingly, feeling flushed and...awkward. You know what he meant. It just sounded... "Lots of things do, none of which have prevented me from getting what I want," he says shortly, but you watch his face flicker. He's hearing it too. "Bossy," you grouse, trying to lighten the mood and only finding yourself vaguely intrigued by a bossy Siruud. He is bossy. You don't have to stop and plant a flag on it.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["You can't," you remind him evenly, the vaguely suggestive threat making you feel flush. You know what he meant; no need to get worked up. "I can try," he warns, and you watch his face flicker; so it's not just you then. He hears it too. "Don't strain yourself," you offer teasingly, trying to lighten the mood and just intensifying the mood to such a degree that you both fidget.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["You made your bed," you warn him, oddly...aware of how flirtatious the two of you sound when you get going. "I'm certainly not gunna lie in it." "As long as you keep lying, we won't have a problem," he warns, and then his face abruptly flickers—he heard it too. "I guess I'll just have to sit back and get waited on hand and foot then," you sigh, leaning in instead of trying to shy away from the tone of this convo. What would be the point?] "H'm," he grunts instead of answering, and you slip into the kitchen and pour yourself a (cycling-link: "coffee", "tea", "juice", "water", "protein shake"), impulsively making it a double for your stay at home archdemon.

He startles when you approach him, holding out the drink. It's really not sized for him, but you don't have cups big enough to not look at least a little goofy in his hands. "Oh. Thank...you," he says haltingly, and you shrug, sitting back down. "You're the one cleaning my apartment," you remind him. "Right." He looks around like he's only just noticed he's doing it. "$last, how did it come to this?" (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["I seem to remember a curse." "I remember that part. I understood that part," he muses.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Maybe it's fate?" "What possible higher purpose is being served here?" he wonders aloud, and you get the sense he's not literally asking.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["You're asking me?" you say incredulously. "It's absurd. I thought that perhaps you had an inherent comprehension of foolishness," he muses faintly.] "You don't have to clean anymore if you don't want to," you offer awkwardly. His groove seems to have been thoroughly thrown off and now he stares around himself in utter bafflement. "I'm sure this is good enough; Maureen kind of knows what my life's been like lately." "We don't have to do anything we don't want to do anymore," he says, turning to fix his golden eyes squarely on you. You hand twitches. "I don't need Maureen to tell us that we're royally fucked, but can you comprehend what we have now?" (link: "\"A big fucking problem?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"A deeply unusual situation?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"A weird and unprecedented opportunity?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Is that what you think?" he asks incredulously, and you look around yourself like the world suddenly turned upside down without you noticing. "Yeah, I think being chained in a new weird way to an archdemon, the CEO attempting to kill me about it, and my only reprieve from a likely manhunt being that my boss tried to kill me? Is like? The worst possible scenario?" "But think of the benefits. You have the power of a demon and the body of a human." And, of course, he doesn't mention the alternative: he has access to a human body that passes every kind of test, even if someone were to suspect you of being a demon—something his intricate humansonas with their make-believe back stories, lack of legal records, and shining golden eyes, simply can't.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Diplomatic," he says with a click of his tongue. "Well I hesitate to call it good or bad, but it's weird for sure," you protest. "But it could be more than that. The two of us have each other's strengths and lack our weaknesses." You frown, but the picture he's painting slowly comes together—you have a human body that can't and wouldn't be confused for a demon disguise, and he has all the powers of a demon. Through this link, you both have both.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Exactly!" he bursts. "The power of a demon, the body of a real and genuine human. Limitations we'd resigned ourselves to are suddenly gone." You drum your fingers against your thigh, part thoughtful and part terrified at the sudden and violent shift of perspective. This is why Maureen has to come over, why the two of you are in such terribly deep shit—because what you can do now cannot be allowed. "That's...that's a lot," you croak out, and he nods eagerly. "It's whatever we want."] It washes over you like a wave as you remember Siruud using your body to manipulate the two of you into SignetWorks. You hadn't thought anything of it then, but now it feels like something that should have stopped you in your tracks. He effortlessly entered the building through you. You let a demon in. (link: "It's a powerful feeling.")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "It's scary in its intensity.")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Oopsie?")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[There's something quietly wonderful about the feeling: about the rush of knowing that you, a nobody with a middle position in an enormous corporate entity that only just decided that they do care whether you live or die and would actually prefer if you were dead, someone who (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[only just barely managed to recover some semblance of a stable life after hitting their absolute rock bottom, who clung to the familiar, the sure thing, anything that even passed for stability at a glance](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[has been busting their ass trying to help, groping in the dark for anything they could use to stave off the darkness for one more minute, whose desperation to try to provide any amount of goodness to the world has been immediately and hatefully turned to harm](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[has just had their whole world turned on their head, who's found out that the company isn't letting them handle their own daily struggles because it trusts them, but because they would prefer if they were dead]—you're the one holding the cards. They have to be afraid of you.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[Throwing you out the window was, of course, an unjustifiable and nakedly malicious act...but if it had been anyone other than Bright, with their drooling power-hunger and delirious rage, you might have understood. What are you is inconceivable, dangerous even: there's no precedent for it, which means that everyone in the world has to just rely on you and Siruud to keep yourselves in check. Or, they could not rely on either of you, and there could be many more windows in your future.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[You've been really fucking bumbling your way through this situation, bringing demons into strictly demon free zones, manipulating the minds of surly front-desk workers, letting him hitch a ride in your no-holds-barred human body...all like it was no big deal. The gravity and scale of the situation dawns on you all at once and you have to bite back half-hysterical laughter. You fucked up. Whoa, you fucked up so bad and you didn't even know it until right now.] "What's one thing you've always wanted?" he asks, forgetting the cleaning and kneeling down in front of you. You jolt at the sensation, the fire-warmed heat of his body heating your skin like a close-quarters campfire. He even smells just faintly smokey in a way that tries to trigger a hunger-response in your body, and you're faintly baffled by the certainty that you're not food hungry. "Just one?" you ask. "Start with one." A thousand possibilities flood your mind, almost too quick for you to decide on anything. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You and desire are old enemies; it almost scares you to reach out for it again](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[You're not familiar with wanting things. You want a just world. You want to know how to get there. Wanting things for yourself feels almost selfish](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You want so much that the enormity of your desire is faintly nauseating. You want with such greed that you can't decide].

He watches you earnestly, his eyes molten and focused on you with such intensity that you can almost see the colour boiling. Desire. What do you want? {|desire01>[<input type="text" data-varname="desire01" placeholder="What do you want? ⏎"></div> ] (live: 0.1s)[ (if: $desire01 is not "")[ (replace: ?desire01)["(upperfirst: $desire01)." He nods slowly, his eyes not breaking from yours, far from satisfied. "Again," he orders. ]]] |desire02>[<input type="text" data-varname="desire02" placeholder="Again ⏎"></div> ] (live: 0.1s)[ (if: $desire02 is not "")[ (replace: ?desire02)["(upperfirst: $desire02)." "More," he says immediately. ]]] |desire03>[<input type="text" data-varname="desire03" placeholder="More ⏎"></div> ] (live: 0.1s)[ (if: $desire03 is not "")[ (replace: ?desire03)["(upperfirst: $desire03)." What's alarming isn't thinking about what you want, but the excruciating achieveability of it all. They're no longer dreams, no longer something audacious and unreal. He wouldn't be asking if they were.]]]}

He opens his mouth again and you nearly flinch because you know what's coming: he's going to ask you how to do it, how the two of you can make something extraordinary happen, only because you want it. Maybe he'll do it because he wants to leverage the favour for his own later. Maybe he's genuinely offering. Maybe all the stories about demons are true and he's just satisfied knowing that he tempted you into it. Your buzzer goes off and you jolt, feeling the tips of your fingers briefly numb with shock. Siruud sits back on his heels, frowning: Maureen's arrived. "We'll talk later," he says furtively, and you nod for lack of something more elegant to respond with. "Don't...don't tell Maureen what we were talking about," he adds, but moves away rather than waiting for you to agree or disagree.. Probably for the best, as it saves you from having to decide. You take a shaky breath, coming down from the high of possibility, before noticing that Siruud is standing and scowling at the buzzer without actually pressing anything. It goes off again and he hesitantly reaches out to tap the button, but doesn't hold it down. You roll your eyes and stand up, moving over to hold it down so she can open the door and come in.

There's a minute delay before she opens your door, bustling in the sort of way older women do with a myriad layers of coats and bags. "Good evening," she chirps, letting a heavy bag drop to the floor. The sound of the thunk makes you think it's a lot heavier than she made it look. "How's my favourite illegal duo?" You glance at Siruud and find him looking back at you. You wonder if that means he's waiting for you to answer, assuming the question is directed at you since your little episode, or if he's trying to silently tell you to stay quiet about what he said. You guess if he wanted you to shut your mouth, he's capable of telling you without talking—but you don't doubt that Maureen is more than capable of overhearing that sort of thing. Maybe she already knows, since you're thinking about it right now. Man do you ever hate mind reading. "Fine, cosmically speaking," you offer neutrally. You're not running through the streets in terror, but that did recently happen. Your world has expanded in dizzying ways. You still have the initial apocalyptic problem you started out with and are now unemployed about it, you're pretty sure. Tahira has not gotten in contact with you, something that went from kind of isolating but a guilty relief to alarming, after the whole window thing. But you're alive and don't have to worry about money yet, and thus far you've been able to break out of the doom spiral that tries to swallow you roughly every forty-five minutes. (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You've been worse, somehow.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[You can bear it, you think; you hope.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[All the energy you think you should spend being miserable is being channelled into fury, so you're holding for now.]

"Any unusual symptoms?" she asks, rolling her many sleeves up to her elbows. "As in?" Siruud asks warily. "Well how on earth would I know? Do you feel sick? Hungover? Weak? Strong?" (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Normal," you grunt, hoping she just takes that and stops asking; if you wanted a check-up, you would have subjected yourself to the emergency clinic before this point.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I'm okay," you say earnestly, mostly to set everyone at ease. They're still worried about you, but you just...you want to move on.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["So far so good," you say, honestly a little relieved. It never occurred to you that there could be downsides besides being hunted for sport by your boss.] "Siruud?" she prompts, and he shrugs. "I'm fine," he hums. "We haven't experimented very much." "That's too bad. Your youth is prime time for experimentation." You glance a Siruud and he stares forward at Maureen, his face unmoving. Did he clock the innuendo or...? You can't tell.

"I'm older than you," he reminds her, and she snorts. "You are a being untouched by time, only moving through it for lack of a better option; you don't even know what age means. Quit arguing and pump some magic into $first." "Maureen," he scolds, but she gestures and you don't think pushing the topic is going to go anywhere productive. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Just do it," you snap, feeling flushed.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["It's okay," you assure him. "Let's just do what we're all here to do."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Let's cut the talking and get to pumping," you say unhelpfully, and he rolls his eyes.] He holds out his hand and after a moment's hesitation, you take it. His palm is smooth and warm, like sun-soaked stone, and when his fingers close around your hand you get the impression of having set off a trap. Warmth turns to heat and you concentrate, envisioning the tether of power quickly woven between you. "It's doing it," he says. "Cast something, $first." (if: $player_magic is "flame")["And burn my apartment down?" you ask incredulously. She waves dismissively and digs into her bag, slowly setting out a truly absurd amount of candles at varying points throughout the apartment—even in other rooms. "Light 'em up, $first!" she says, and you close your eyes.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")["It costs a lot to heat this place back up, you know," you tell her uncertainly. "And I'll lose my deposit for water damage." She waves dismissively and reaches into her bag, bringing out several cups. After what feels like an eternity of fussing around in your kitchen, bathroom, and your bedroom, she comes back out. "Cups full of water, $first—freeze them all," she says, and you close your eyes. You can do that.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")["Absolutely not?" you burst, incredulous that she would even ask. She waves her hand dismissively and drops her arms into her bag, pulling out several pots of what look like tiny purple flowers. "Pots of swallowwort—" she says, then brings them to your bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen, placing them where you can't see. "Waste the invasive species, $first!" You hesitate, but feel Siruud's hand tighten on yours. You look at him and he nods shortly—he'll stop if things get out of control. You close your eyes, uneasy.]

(if: $player_magic is "flame")[Every candle appears behind your eyelids in a hazy red glow, and you have to do so little as imagine all of them lit to hear the soft fwoom, like the striking of a match many times over. When you blink your eyes open again, there's a soft orange glow from the ones in front of you and Maureen has already wandered back to check on the ones outside of your directly line of sight. "We have liftoff!" she announces from the kitchen.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[The hard part would be the ones you can't see—the only methodology you would normally have would just be to do a big freeze and, as you warned her, lose your deposit. As soon as your eyes close, though, you can see every individual cup in a soft blue glow, and almost without thinking about it you feel your magic crawl out with the soft crackle of fast-freeze. When you open your eyes, Maureen has already disappeared to go check and luckily, you haven't left soon-to-be water damage across the crumbling carpet. "Success!" Maureen declares proudly from the kitchen.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[You squeeze Siruud's hand so tight that if he were human it would hurt—behind your eyelids, you can see the circulation of not only the potted plants placed in weird spots all over your invisible apartment, but also Maureen and Siruud. Swallowing hard, slowly and methodically, you reach out one by one to each pulsating green pot and let it rot in miasma; your heart pounds and your palms sweat, but when your eyes open you've done it. "See? Nothing to worry about!" Maureen declares from the kitchen, holding up a wilted pot.] You let go of Siruud's hand and feel the broad control of your magic fizzle out. It's almost a relief, like when you stop hearing a sound that's been repeating in the background so much that it becomes part of the overall setting. It's...if it weren't him, it would be overstimulating. You don't know what that means—maybe he controls it, or maybe you're just...maybe it just feels safe...because he can't hurt you, of course. "So what now?" Siruud asks, and Maureen puts down her prize, gesturing for the two of you to rejoin hands. "Now we see what you can do," she says, and Siruud scoffs. "Don't make that face! $first is a pretty keen magic user!" You're warmed by the praise from a fellow magic user, but...even you have to admit that you're not sure what you expect him to actually do.

You reach for each other's hands again, and Maureen tilts her head curiously. "Do you have to do that?" she asks, and you look to Siruud. "Do what?" he asks. "Hold hands to channel power." Your palm twitches but, maybe lacking the intricate system of impulses that control involuntary bodily reactions, he holds perfectly still. "We've never tried it another way," he says evenly, and she raises an eyebrow. "So you were holding hands with $first when $he fell out that window?" she asks, and you feel your hand twitch again but Siruud is made of rock and holding it so you're pressing the frontline of embarrassment with him whether you want to or not. "That was unconscious." "Have you tried it consciously?" "No. We have a methodology. Are you asking us to try it in a different way?" Maureen rolls her eyes. "You're no fun when you get like this, you know?" she asks. "Go on, cast some of $first's magic."

He opens his palm and conjures (if: $player_magic is "flame")[a roughly tennis ball sized flame. At first it seems fairly unremarkable, but you feel a strange spark and suddenly his face goes wane. The fire leaps into the air like a campfire spiked with dripping fat and he drops the ball onto the rug. You whip out your hand and gutter the flame, but not before it singes a circle into the fabric—luckily the rug is so old and gross that besides a patch of slightly shorter threads, the mistake is unnoticeable.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[a snowball about the same size as a tennis ball. He looks fairly unimpressed with the honestly pedestrian effort—snowball fights are like, the primary use of the specialization in the first few years—but something abruptly changes. You feel a deep spark and his face goes wane, ice pouring from his hands in every direction, like a waterfall that's freezing and unfreezing in real time. You take your hand back and whip out both to catch everything, forming one heavy ball of ice that you take outside and leave on the scant balcony.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[green goo. You know green goo—as a child of your era, green goo was frequently the first thing that came to mind for many students of blight. Blight conjures either too little or too many mental images, none of which are particularly conjurable. Green goo, on the other hand, is tangible. He looks fairly confused by the effort—you wonder if maybe tapping into your magic briefly conferred your own sensibilities onto him—and then you feel a spark deep inside of you, like a shudder, and suddenly his hands are overflowing with the stuff. His face goes wane as he makes a visible and futile attempt to stop the slime from materializing, until you reach out and tap his palm. Thankfully, there's something else you know about the goo—it's utterly benign, as indistinct green slime is as abstract as any other symbolic blight. You gather it all up into a toxic ball and clap your hands together, vanishing it.] "Interesting!" Maureen bursts, and you (if: $player_magic is "flame")[whirl on her incredulously. "Was it? Was almost burning the place down really fascinating?" you ask, your voice too high.](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[have to agree; something definitely went weird there. "What was that all about?" you ask, about the most coherent thing you can think of to ask.](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[nod eagerly. "You got the goo from my brain!" you burst, and Siruud frowns, looking uneasy.] "I don't know what happened," he says immediately. Maureen raises an eyebrow. "I don't know why I reacted like that," he clarifies. "The magic...startled me." "How?" she presses.

"The (if: $player_magic is "flame")[fire](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[ice](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[sludge] looked...different than I expected," he says vaguely, his eyes darting. "It took me offguard." "Different how?" you ask, now invested in this unnecessary mystery. (if: $player_magic is "blight")[You're forming a theory—he summoned green goo despite very likely having at least a much broader perspective on pestilence and blight than you would. If the image came from your mind, then maybe that spark you felt was the two of you...touching in some way? Maybe the sensation alarmed him, or maybe he became aware of the perspective shift.](else:)[You think of that spark you felt right before the accident, frowning thoughtfully. Maybe some weird warlock magic was at work here, something he evidently seems to sense more about than you.] "I was...seeing it through you?" he suggests faintly. "I don't know why. You don't look through me while we do this." "You're the patron," Maureen points out. "To access their magic, you have to get a little more hands on." "We don't know that," he argues. "I think it's a pretty safe bet, Siruud." (link: "\"He's right—we're just guessing.\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I don't even think humans can make warlocks.\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["We shouldn't assume anything about the situation until we know for sure—I'm a magic user same as him, so maybe it has nothing to do with whether I'm human or not." There's something to be said about drawing obvious conclusions—it would make sense for Siruud to be the patron in the relationship, as there's nothing controversial about the assertion that his magic is older and therefore better practiced and far more powerful; hell, humans aren't even inherently skilled with magic! Some people go their whole lives in this city trying to scrape by in a totally separate modern dystopia than you, without even thinking about the fact that some people have added magic to the mix. "We're not writing an essay on this stuff," Maureen protests. "We're trying to materially predict the symptoms of your circumstances." "Also not helped by making assumptions." Siruud's case is not helped by his naked glee that he's winning an argument.](elseif: $_temp is 1)["As open as the possibilities are here, I also don't think it's super useful to assume that anything, no matter how unlikely, is technically possible. We'll never rule out everything." Maybe you're both Bright's warlocks through some weird overlap of putting on Siruud's bracelet and the location of the weirdo in their office at the time. Maybe you're both patrons to some random office worker you haven't come across yet because they were walking by Tahira's office at the time. "Exactly. We can't move forward if we have to prove and disprove physics every time," Maureen says with a smile that does not cloak how pleased she is to be winning an argument.] "What we know for sure," you assert firmly as a middle ground to avoid prolonging a pointless back and forth, "is that Siruud needs conscious access to me to tap into my magic, but I can make use of his through projection. When he uses my magic, I can feel it." The spark had felt almost...biological, like a hunger impulse. "Do you feel the same when I use yours?" "I haven't noticed," he says, his face and tone particularly even. "We'll need to test it further."

You narrow your eyes. Why is he being cagey around Maureen? She's the only resource the two of you have, so what possible purpose does lying to her serve? She asks you both a couple more questions about how it feels to cast magic through each other, gauging the strength of your powers with and without the other's intervention, and a few personal observations before digging through her things and pulling out a truly archaic-looking cell. The fact that it doesn't use an antennae is honestly surprising, although it does flip which is borderline unheard of in Sanctum City. "What do you two want on the pizza?" she asks, tapping her pen on her notebook. (if: $player_meat is "Vegetarian")[Years of college and (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[bottom of the barrel poverty](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[large friend groups](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[elbowing for your place at any table] have taught you to answer instinctively. "(cycling-link: "Mushrooms", "Green peppers", "Pineapple", "Olives"), for sure," you say distractedly.](else:)[Years of college and (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[bottom of the barrel poverty](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[large friend groups](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[elbowing for your place at any table] have taught you to answer instinctively. "(cycling-link: "Pepperoni", "Bacon", "Ham", "Chicken"), please," you say distractedly.] Your eyes are fixed on Siruud. "You're going to get it?" he asks skeptically, and Maureen waves her hand. "Why not?" "Because you can pay to have them bring it here and we won't lose any time," he says flatly. "What, you never heard of a smoke break?" she asks casually, gathering her things and heading towards the door. Good luck, kid, you hear in your head, and you shiver. Stubborn as a mule and flighty as a pigeon; if you can figure out what his problem is, maybe we can all move this along. The door closes and you look over at Siruud. (link: "\"What's your problem?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Do you wanna talk about anything?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Okay spill: what's going on?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

"I don't know what you mean," he says with precision neutrality. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["You fucking well do," you snap, pointing at him. "I'm in your head now, so start singing."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["Mostly how...hesitant you seem to be to let Maureen help us," you broach carefully.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["The fuck you don't, come on," you cajole, kicking at him half-heartedly.] Siruud watches you, then lets out a warm, even breath from his nose. "Do you hear how she talks about us?" he asks. You squint immediately, as if it's a defensive reflex against the embarrassment of one of you saying out loud that Maureen sometimes acts like the curse is an inevitable precursor to a relationship. (link: "\"I guess. I've been ignoring it.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I...have, yes. Does it bother you?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What about it?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[You're good at ignoring things that you don't want to deal with; (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[you wouldn't have coped with half the shit you've gone through if you couldn't shut off the part of your brain that insists that fixation is the same thing as a solution.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[sometimes, some things just have to go on the back burner, and you're good at that.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[you're an expert by now in shutting out the things that make it hard to get from day to day.] "Doesn't it bother you?" he asks incredulously.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["Older women are nosy and they like to tease. You're as old as the world, have you only ever met Maureen?" you ask, half-joking. "It doesn't bother you?" he demands incredulously, and you shrug.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[It would be impossible to not notice that Maureen seems to take great pleasure out of teasing Siruud about you, but you haven't given it much thought—there's been a lot going on. "It doesn't bother you?" he asks incredulously.] "(cycling-link: "Not as much as it bothers you, apparently.", "A little, yeah. You seem...especially bothered.", "No, why would it?")" He rolls his eyes to an invisible audience who presumably agrees with him and can't believe your gall; to not really care all that much what one woman thinks about your hostage situationship. "I just don't think it's appropriate for her to dictate what goes on between us." (link: "\"She's not doing that, bud.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I really wouldn't go that far...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"What are you talking about?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Well not literally," he hisses, clearly embarrassed. "But the attempt is there." "She's literally just pissing with you because you freak out," you tell him. "She's not trying to force you to do anything." "And I don't like it," he says shortly. "Then why are you telling me instead of her?" you ask, and he snorts. "And admit to her that she's wound me up, which was her goal the entire time?"](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["I think she's just needling you," you say carefully. "I don't think there's a lot to read into it." "I still don't like that she does it," he says shortly. "Maybe you should tell her that," you suggest, and he rolls his eyes. "That would be tantamount to admitting to her that she got me," he scoffs.](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["She's not trying to trick you, Siruud," you laugh, and he rolls his eyes. "But she's needling me, because she thinks it's funny and I don't like it," he snaps, and you put your hands up, backing off. "Okay, well, tell her to quit it then." "All that does is tell her that she's successfully antagonizing me," he scoffs.] You sit back, unsure of what exactly he wants to happen if he refuses to communicate that the joke's gone too far. You sympathize with his reasoning, of course, but unfortunately nothing can happen unless he wants to be honest about how he feels. Speaking of that feeling, though, something else is bothering you, something that's going to annoy him just as much, if not more, than Maureen. "Does it really bother you that much?" you press, and he rolls his eyes. "I just said—" "Not Maureen, me. Are you like, that embarrassed at the thought that someone might consider us a couple?" You're not sure where exactly his line is: is he offended at the idea of dating a mortal, or is it specifically you? "Don't—Don't change the subject," he stammers, scowling. "I'm not. This is called being honest about your feelings before it can fester into a problem," you say (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[irritably](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[earnestly](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[mockingly].

"It's not a problem," he protests, noticeably side-stepping the topic. "I just don't want Maureen involved." "So you should tell her not to get involved." You don't know what you wanted him to say, nor what you expected to happen when you pressed that particular button. It's obviously fairly easy to sidestep and pushing him any further is going to make you seem...interested. Too interested. "But it's absolutely a problem, and Maureen's definitely noticed that you're brushing her off." "I'm not—I'm just...choosing not to highlight symptoms that might sound...intimate. Like your spark—I feel it as well, but I don't know that it's critical for Maureen to know. It'd definitely prompt more foolishness, though, so I talk around it." He whirls on you and points. "Thank-you for that by the way," he adds churlishly. "I'm trying to act natural while you talk about sparks." "That's what happened!" you snap, feeling yourself heat up. "I'm trying to do what we invited Maureen over to do." "Like what?" he scoffs. "To confirm that I'm your patron? To point out that we can use each other's magic? Whatever we don't already know we'll discover in due course." "Then why did we invite her in the first place?" you ask, exasperated.

"For you!" he snaps, then turns sharply. "I am not ignorant of how your life has been functionally dismantled since you met me, and if it made you feel better to hear her out then fine. I just don't think there's anything reasonably productive about the exercise as it puts us nowhere that we aren't already. At this point...at this point I don't know. Perhaps we try to corner Tahira, although her silence seems like a poor omen of how that would go." (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[You gape at him, your stomach suddenly churning. Why is he...you didn't ask him to think about you. You didn't ask for his consideration. Suddenly he feels bad because you started acting 'crazy'? Nobody ever deigns to notice before rock bottom, no one cares to try and stop you from that point, but suddenly you go three days without eating or showering and then he wants to act all benevolent about it? "So now it's my fault?" you shoot back, your voice too loud. You can tell because he looks surprised at your reaction.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Your face goes hot with shame. You hit your lowest low during those three days, and now he can tell that you're unreliable and afraid. He's placating you like a child and it's what you deserve because the first time someone tried to impede your progress, you folded. "I'm sorry," you offer, your voice low and ashamed. He turns to look at you quizzicaly, which somehow makes it worse: he didn't expect an apology or any self-awareness about how you're the weak link in this entire relationship. He just took it as a given.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You feel your gut flare hotly. Now he's deciding what you need? All this play acting bullshit that doesn't go anywhere, that's for your benefit? Because you need to be coddled? You've had a rough fucking start but you're just as much a magic-user, just as much a combatant as he is, and you won't tolerate his condescension just because he watched the telephone get invented or whatever the fuck he wants to feel superior about. "Don't act like I need this!" you hiss, and he turns to you with a confused frown. This dog bites back, you think viciously.] "What?" (if: $player_origin is "plucky")["Please don't make me repeat it."](else:)["You heard me."] "No, you're confusing me. What are you talking about?"

(if: $player_origin is "plucky")["Look I'm just...me. I know that, and I know it's hard for you to work with someone who can't stand up against anything, but I'm doing my best!"](elseif: $player_origin is "desperate")["I get it okay? I freaked out and now you can't trust me anymore—one strike and I'm out, right?"](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")["I'm not some lame mortal you're dragging around with you, okay? I'm your partner in this, so you better fucking get used to it and quit treating me like I'm not doing my half of the group project."] Siruud pinched the bridge of his nose. "I just don't want Maureen empowered to speculate of my sex life. How did we get here?" he asked faintly. "Because I'm the random (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[freak](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[nobody](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[idiot] you're both playing tug of war with," you snap. "You think it feels great to have her winking and nudging you over the idea of fucking me so that you'll go ew no." "I didn't say that," he said shortly, his eyes closed. "I just said I don't want Maureen involved."

You feel a cold sort of numbness settle over you, like rolling over away from a bad position while you sleep. You're not even sure at this point if it's you or him or both of you or neither and it's an entirely third-party thing happening to your body—there's been enough of that lately that you can't rule it out—but it settles into you like a lotion. You feel sticky and strange and don't know what to say. You were mad. (cycling-link: "You don't know why you got upset", "Your anger fizzled so fast that now you're disoriented", "You're stewing and unsure where to direct all the energy"), motionless on the couch. "$last?" he asks, and you look at him unsurely. "Tell me what you're thinking." "Can't you just...?" It seems a lot easier for him to read your mind than it is for you to articulate what's wrong. "Your brain sounds like you're sitting in a blender right now," he says frankly. "And I barely need to look to hear it either." (link: "\"Can you do the anxiety thing...?\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I don't know what to say.\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["$first, I think you should just tell me what you're thinking. The anxiety spell works by muffling your nervous system, which is worse than many proper medications in both function and application. It's better if you just tell me." You frown, resisting the urge to tack on that you don't really care about the potential side effects—you doubt begging him will do anything but add 'mild embarrassment' to the pile of churning feelings. Still, without the help...you open your mouth but nothing comes out.](elseif: $_temp is 1)["Try, $first. Say anything. Just start talking and let the words come." Easier said than done. You open your mouth, but you can hear the blender running too and nothing comes out. You try again, trying not to let yourself get self-conscious—this is what he asked you to do, just to try. You're trying. You're successfully completing the task, even if the preferred outcome would be to actually articulate the churning mass of emotions that've half turned to butter in your guts.] "Are you angry?" he asks tentatively, poised to be annoyed if the answer is yes. You open your mouth and nothing comes out. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[You grunt in frustration, annoyed that you can't even manage a feels bad.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[Tears of frustration spring to your eyes as you struggle to even—is it that hard to say you're uneasy? At minimum you're uneasy, so just say it...but you can't.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[You let out a creaking laugh, incredulous with yourself and frustrated—you just want to fucking say you feel wild right now, but it's like your voice is just gone.] "Then I'll talk," he says brusquely. "There's not much for me to say, but rest assured I am well beyond the point of being irritated with the situation. Such a thing is an emotional response and I've had it and it's over. I am also aware that my choice of fellow prisoner in this scenario has been unusually lucky: you might have immediately attempted to give me up to Tahira, or been so mindlessly terrified of me that you were unable to act in either of our interests. I know nothing of Tahira and little of SignetWorks, so for all I know you might have been some kind of office pet or unfortunate pest wandered too close to the ritual." You want to say that it feels like that, but...yeah, not happening at the moment.

"Will you at least choose to believe me when I say that our dynamic, such as it is, is the least of my problems right now?" he asks, and you feel your hands twitch. It's not what you want. If you know nothing else it's that as nice as you're sure he's trying to be, you don't want that. You don't want to be placated. You don't want more flirty back and forth and then for him to shut it off completely once someone's watching. You feel like there's a drain in you and it's plugged with mud. "Still nothing?" You shrug helplessly. He's not doing anything wrong. What can you say except that his best and most earnest effort so far is so mindlessly and infuriatingly frustrating to you because you don't want him to placate you. You don't want him to be carefully cooperating with you. You'd rather he snap and sulk than that. "Maybe we should take one of Maureen's smoke breaks, until she comes back." You ease back against the couch and he stands, moving over to the kitchen to do...something. You watch him through the dim little cut-out in the wall. There's a faint blood-red, nearly black, sheen to him. There's an occasional glint of light, like glitter or sequins, when light from the distant window manages to catch one of his scales. Stone and scales and smooth, polished onyx-black hips and ribs and elbows and fingers.

Why can't he just...? Why is he so...? You screw your eyes shut, the glimmer of his skin burned behind your eyelids. You want to be his equal. You want to fix the curse. You don't want to get to the part where he's glad to be rid of the mortal loser he's had to cart around and disappears forever. What will your life be like then? No job, almost certainly wanted in some capacity (either by the mercenary corporation or by the authorities that have whatever power the mercenary corporation lacks), and alone again. No more free groceries. No more dinners cooked for you. His life will ostensibly go back to normal. The addition of you has been nothing but negative for him—he's stuck in the city, stuck in your shitty apartment, stuck on your arm—and he'll certainly be glad to be shed of having to take care of you so you'll survive long enough to get unstuck from him. "I think I'm (cycling-link: bind $player_attitude, "guilty", "resentful", "lonely")," you say out loud, and Siruud's golden eyes flicker to you, glowing in the low light. "H'm?" he asks, not moving back towards you.

(if: $player_attitude is "guilty")["I don't want to be a yoke you bear until you can get rid of me, but I am. You have to work with me whether you want to or not, so it's unfair of me to be upset that you're not always thrilled about that," you say faintly. "I just said I don't mind," he reminds you tersely. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["I know what you said, but that doesn't change the facts," you say shortly. "I want you to like me but you shouldn't have to. Your power to react to me is severely limited because we can't hurt each other, but my ability to turn you in is always there. So why should I get to be upset that you can't earnestly be on my team?"](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["What else would you say?" you ask with a weak smile. "You don't have a choice but to like me, which is of course the most flattering way to begin a friendship, which of course makes me a total piece of shit because why should you have to be thrilled about just to make me feel better?"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["And it's nice of you to say that, but...what else are we going to do? You have to adjust to me," you point out. "There's no escaping the obligation, and so there's no escaping the paradox of wanting the situation to be different while acknowledging that if it was, the two of us wouldn't be on the same side."] "$last, for fuck—" He cuts himself off, turning away from you and going back to whatever he was doing in the kitchen. You assume that he just retreats there to avoid you.](elseif: $player_attitude is "resentful")["When this is over, you get to go back to normal. My life is completely over after all this, and it's...it feels like it isn't fair, but I'm also the one who's the most dangerous to you and so I don't even get to feel sorry for myself," you admit bitterly. "I know," he reminds you. "I told you, I understand what it's been like for you." "That doesn't change anything," you snap. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["That's the problem. I can't stop expecting something of you that you're under no obligation to give me and then being upset about it."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["It just makes it more pathetic that I can't keep a lid on my stupid and irrational reactions."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["It's worse. You don't owe me sympathy for my situation when you're in a worse situation right now and I can't help but be angry at you for not giving me more."]](elseif: $player_attitude is "lonely")["I feel like I'm holding myself back because you're in a bad situation right now, and then fixating on what a bad situation I'm going to be in, so I end up isolating myself ahead of time." "So stop," he says, raising an eyebrow. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Because it's that easy, right?" you snap. "Just stop being standoffish and irrational, why didn't I think of that?"](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["You could be a therapist, you know that?" you ask with an eyeroll. "Just stop being irrational. You could solve the concept of war."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I would love that," you say helplessly. "But I can't. Or else I would."]] You look back over at him in the kitchen and find him occupied with his back turned to you. On his back you can see the vicious energy he uses to do whatever it is he's doing—his muscles flex under the skin, glimmering under the low light. "So what do you want me to do about it then?" he asks shortly, and you don't know. "Then maybe we can at least thematically return to the topic of avoiding confronting Maureen about my discomfort with her behaviour."

You don't respond and he doesn't push it, and so ends the conversation. He's doing something in the kitchen—not cooking, obviously, but you can't tell if he's washing dishes or just rearranging everything (you really don't care which)—and you just...sit on the couch. Experimentally you close your eyes and try to see all the (if: $player_magic is "flame")[candles](elseif: $player_magic is "frost")[cups](elseif: $player_magic is "blight")[plants] from before that Maureen hadn't tidied up before she left. Drawing on Siruud's power—without touching him and with no indication that he's noticed you doing it—you see them, in the same spots they all were before except for the one that Maureen moved to demonstrate to you that you'd successfully affected all of them at once. Pushing further, you look for...people. You look for everyone in the building—the single parent and their baby up in the middle of the night, the throuple totally asleep in bed, the elderly man who fell asleep on the chair with his dog—and see them there, little pinpricks of light. You wonder at the sensory overflow, curious as to whether Siruud's perception is always just like this or if he can tap into it. Maybe it's something special the both of you have now, your powers combined like a retro cartoon. Looking around like this, you can even see people out in the parking lot—a teen getting home from the late shift with their shoulders hunched over the glow of their phone, a newlywed sneaking a smoke, and of course, a woman with her hair gathered up into one of those absurdly big banana clips juggling pizzas and a litre of pop. "Maureen's back," you say out loud, and Siruud's noise pauses. "Why isn't the thing making noise?" he asks, and you shrug. "She's not there yet." He doesn't question you and you track Maureen all the way to the lobby and get up to hit the buzzer before she can ring it.

She ambles up to the door and you open it for her, blinking away the magic that let you see her through doors. "You miss me or what?" she asks, fumbling for a moment with an aborted gesture to balance everything in one hand and open the door with the other. How'd it go, hun? she asks, and you keep your face blank. You two should just talk to each other, you offer neutrally. "The vibes in here are caustic," she says out loud, and you take one of the pizza boxes and retreat to the living room with it. A self-conscious part of you knows that this is your domicile and there's probably more polite things you could do, like get plates out and glasses for the litre...but at the moment, you can think of nothing you want more than to retreat into pizza. It'll give your mouth something to do besides conspicuously not talk. Siruud re-enters with all the things you hadn't gotten up to get, setting them up casually and sitting down away from both of you. "What's our plan?" he asks as Maureen settles in. "Well, to break the curse I think we need the priestess, and I think the priestess wants to get close to you a little too much for us to take that route," Maureen hums. "That said, I don't know that she's working with Bright, so $first might still have an in." "But if she has any information about the window incident, then she might be at least suspicious about the warlock situation," Siruud protests. "And I'm vetoing any further action that has $first operating alone." "(upperfirst: $he)(if: $gender_plural contains $he)['re](else:)['s] not alone now," she points out. "They can evoke you at will, in theory." "I'm vetoing any further action that has $first operating alone," he repeats, and Maureen holds up her hands. "Fine, fine. But where does that leave us?"

Maureen hums thoughtfully, idling with a piece of pizza, before she straightens. "What if the two of you stepped out?" she asks, and you nearly groan as you lean forward, hoping to look pizza busy and miss Siruud's annoyance. "Maureen for fuck's sake—" "No, no listen—as patron and warlock?" she asks, and he scowls. "And paint a bigger target on our backs?" "Sure, but it'll attract the priestess with a grudge against you." "And the necrotic monster trying to kill $first." "Then we pick a nicer spot—The Grind's having its vernal equinox party," she says cajolingly. "You go there, make some waves—maybe someone there knows how to help you, maybe you attract the priestess who's tracking you and have your showdown." You nearly curl in on yourself. The final showdown, the final nail in your coffin—Tahira was the only person on your side in the office. While that's not worth much with the CEO trying to kill you, it's your last bridge to burn: so of course, with a twist of his mouth, (link: "Siruud agrees")[(goto: "END")]. (css: "font-size: 0.7em")[Save on this screen, as the next screen is the end of the demo; or, just use the save builder next time, as that's what it's for.]

Home, 3:00 (transition: "fade") + (transition-time: 3s)[{<div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Heeeeey</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">What's up?</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Sorry, the hey was weird.</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Obviously.</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Anyway. What's up?</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Again. lol.</div> </div> </div>} (link: "Respond.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Ignore.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]]

{(if: $_temp is 0)[ <div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">still nothing</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">That's good! Could still be worse, right?</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Not that I want it to be worse.</div> </div> <div class="self"> <div class="self-texts">T chill out a little.</div> <div class="self-texts">You're making me nervous.</div> </div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Right! Right I can hear it.</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">I'll call. Is that okay?</div> </div> </div>] (elseif: $_temp is 1)[ <div class="texts"> <div class="header">🌸 Tahira 🌸</div> <div class="npc"> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Sorry this is a lot of nervous energy right?</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">Like I can hear it.</div> <div class="npc-texts tahira">But can we talk? Please?</div> </div> </div>]}

Your phone rings and you watch it for a few seconds before answering. "Hey," you offer quietly, and you hear a small sigh of relief on the other end that Tahira can't hide. The two of you haven't been communicating much since the warlock thing; (if: $tahira_pact is 1)[it's a big thing the two of you did, and you don't think she really knows how to face that in the aftermath](elseif: $tahira_pact is 0)[obviously. You haven't reached out, and she's followed your lead.] "Hi! Hey $first, how...are you doing?" she asks, again. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You stay silent for a heartbeat too long, then let out a huff mostly just to affirm that you're there. "Fine," you hum, offering nothing else. You're still not in a place where you're really worried about making her comfortable.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Fine," you answer neutrally. Nothing's changed since she made you her warlock, which has been...a little disappointing. You're still cursed. You're still recovering from the Bright incident. Honestly, her reticence to contact you has been a little...hurtful.] "Right. Of course," she says with a self-conscious little laugh. "I uh...I wanted you to have time to heal up." (if: $tahira_pact is 0)["You wanted to demonstrate that you weren't going to use me like a puppet right away," you say flatly, and hear the frustrated scoff she makes. "Which is useless because I know you haven't been exerting control on purpose so we're at the same place we would've been anyway."](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Right. Leaving me on my own this whole time has been for my benefit," you say, unable to control your resentment. You hadn't reached out to her either, but...but she's the patron. She's not the one who spent three days on the run. You just...wanted to feel like somebody cared.]

(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["I don't know how else you want me to explain to you that I was trying to protect you," she says shortly. "You don't get elbow deep in this shit without consequences." "So I should be content to be used?" you shoot back. "You should trust me when I say I'm not—I don't want to hurt you." "Tell me you're not using me," you goad, and she remains silent on the other end. You let it stretch and full the space with guilty silence. "You won't, will you?" "So what, you're never going to speak to me again?" she asks, and you consider it for a moment before dismissing it. If anything she's said has been the earnest truth it's that you're elbow deep, and more forces than her will be much firmer in refusing to let you tap out now. "That's not an option I have," you say gravely. "But I don't have to like it." "And I don't suppose I can continue to prove that I'm not interested in whatever power grab you think I want over you?" she asks wearily, and you shrug even though she can't see it. "Do what you want. Not like I get a choice."](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["$first?" she asks hesitantly, and you muffle a little groan. You didn't know you were gunna do this, but neither did you expect your feelings to surge out of you quite so strongly, like a dam inside you cracked without your organs noticing. "I just...would've appreciated some attention," you say, hoping you don't sound as forlorn as you feel. "What we did is kind of scary and I don't feel very...supported right now." "You should've said something!" she clucks, and you snort. "Come on. It sounds stupid to beg for it," you protest. Love is meant to be given—to ask for it is to admit that it wasn't received. "I wouldn't make you beg," she teases. "I was trying to give you space; I thought you might feel a little babysat, especially after the Bright incident. I trust you and I thought I was demonstrating that." "Can you demonstrate that you're a little worried about me?" "That'll be easier still, because I am more than a little worried about your safety."]

"What's our next move?" you ask, instead of (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[keeping the argument going; it's cyclical, you understand, as there's nothing she can say to prove to you that she wouldn't do you harm the second it becomes convenient, and that cuts off any rebuttal she could possibly have](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[acknowledging how easily she switched on her tenderness. It feels like a hack, to find out that all you had to do to receive care was ask for it; that she was withholding it to try and instill a sense of confidence rather than just naturally being indifferent]. (if: $tahira_pact is 1)[She lets out a thoughtful breath.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 0)[She scoffs irritably but relents.] "I think maybe we should practice our whole...thing," she says. "We don't want to find out in the field that you're like, allergic to me or something?" "Is that an option?" you ask, and she laughs faintly. "We should rule it out, for sure. We should also double check how I react to you in this arrangement." "Make sure you're not allergic to me?" you ask wryly. You expect a polite laugh, but find instead that she hums thoughtfully. "Honestly there's not a lot of data for the patron side of the arrangement; most people are usually concerned with the warlock, and the font of their power is considered a separate issue." (link: "\"Is this...possible?\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Are you safe?\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["It must be," she says teasingly. "We did it, after all." "When people think font of my power they don't usually think of a person." The source of magic in general is largely unknown, and the means to tap into it blessedly obscured. You'd hate to see what the world looked like if corporations had access to the source of all power. "What if I accidentally (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[drain you](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[empty you out like a jucie box](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[hurt you by taking too much]?" "You won't," she says with easy confidence. "We don't know that," you argue, but she huffs indifferently. "I feel pretty comfortable that you won't, so don't worry about it; we'll practice about it."](elseif: $_temp is 1)["Oh, don't worry about me," she says flippantly, but you push. (if: $tahira_pact is 1)["This was something you did for me in a tight spot, but you're just one person T. How do we keep me from accidentally sapping all your reserves or something?" A magic hangover is nothing to sneeze at, and who knows how much worse you've made it via the warlock connection?](elseif: $tahira_pact is 0)["Look you know I'm not thrilled about this, but that doesn't mean I want to accidentally sap all the magic out of your nervous system," you say firmly. Pushing yourself too hard with magic can give you a nasty hangover—who knows what someone else doing it could do to the body?] "Of all the potential consequences of what we're doing here, the one I'm least worried about is you taking too much," she responds confidently. "Don't worry about it. This is what we're gunna practice for."] (link: "\"Where do you wanna meet up?\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"You shouldn't be so casual about this!\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["Best to keep things private: your place or mine?" she asks, then laughs quietly. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Maybe yours is best: you can kick me out any time and I won't hold it against you."](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Maybe yours is best: mine's a little too open to the outside. Big windows, you know?"] (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Fine," you grunt.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Roger," you hum.]](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Okay," you mutter.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Sure!" You don't think about your pitiful single window that barely lets any light in at all.]](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Sure, why not?" you ask wryly.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Just remember that you volunteered me when you get here," you joke.]] "See you then," she sings.](elseif: $_temp is 1)["I promise I'm not ignoring the risk; I'm confident! I am confident this will not hurt me," she says, and you gnaw at your nail. (if: $tahira_suss is 1)["Maybe you could share a little of that with me," you snap. "Because I'm not feeling super confident and telling me to stop worrying about it isn't helping!"](elseif: $tahira_suss is 0)["But I am worried, T! I don't have that confidence and I think I'd feel a lot better if you were taking it more seriously."] "We'll practice," she repeats. "But I'm positive that I'm strong enough to take it, and if our link goes both ways I can just cut you off if you start getting down to the dregs," she says evenly. "Don't worry so much—I'll be by later to practice. See you then!"] The line goes dead and you look around your apartment, in a state of stagnation since you hobbled back. Clothes are strewn over everywhere, dishes are sitting around on tables, and there's a rumpled quilt stretched out on your couch that you've been sleeping under because you can't hear the sounds of people as well from your bedroom.

You step into the room, having already started there but feeling like you're entering it for the first time as a total stranger. (cycling-link: "You're usually tidy", "You're not the neatest"), but these are extraordinary circumstances so you can't even blame yourself for the mess. You gather up the dishes first, both because they're poised to become a larger problem the longer they're left there and because they have a convenient secondary location where you can drop them off and briefly forget about them while you handle the rest. Clothes, similarly, can be shuffled off into the cracked white hamper you keep them in, picked up from an old room mate so long ago that you wouldn't be able to pick them out of a crowd now. You don't have a lot of guests, your social life long since whittled away to nothing when you became a nocturnal demon hunter/gig worker. Unstable and unusual hours, mixed with the general intensity and violence of your work pretty much abolished your social circle; back in college, a lot of people were fantasizing about a life like those late night shows where a cool and fashionable teen, along with their closest four to five friends, stayed up late together to defeat the forces of evil and party at the inexplicable sober club for minors—you wonder if anyone actually lived that fantasy or if your situation is pretty much the standard. Even before SignetWorks, (if: $player_past is "bartender")[the sociable bartender is more of an archetype than reality. Everyone knew you and everyone was nice to you, but that didn't mean you were hanging out with them after hours.](elseif: $player_past is "forklift driver")[working in warehouses was pretty much the same shit; long, late hours trapped with people you barely know who don't have time to shoot the shit with you even if they wanted to.](elseif: $player_past is "landfill labourer")[I work at the dump hardly pulled in the vast and adoring masses, and everyone who worked with you was usually just keen to leave once work ended.](elseif: $player_past is "bouncer")[bouncing hardly endeared you to the many people you have to turn away from clubs, and it wasn't like you were inside shooting the shit with your coworkers all night.] (if: $player_origin is "desperate")[Once things took a turn and you were out on the street, people would hardly look at you let alone strike up a conversation.](elseif: $player_origin is "plucky")[Outside work, people never seemed to gravitate towards your earnestness, embarrassed by your enthusiasm.](elseif: $player_origin is "stupid")[You weren't a hit outside of work either, people always flinching at your firm and unshakeable convictions.] You can't recall ever having hosted anyone, least of all someone like Tahira. You don't even really know enough about what you're supposed to be doing to feel inadequate.

You tidy up as much as you can, mostly focusing on making the mess you can't get rid of in time seem orderly, like you were just getting around to cleaning it all up when she suggested coming by. You play a dangerous game of blocks to fit your dishes in the sink, throw your laundry hamper in a closet where she won't see the clothes piled so high they spill over the edges, you fold up the heavy blanket you'd been sleeping under and throw it into your bedroom with the thin, dishevelled pillows, and do a garbage sweep that you're sure misses large swathes of the problem. It's almost therapeutic. Maybe it'd feel better if you were actually accomplishing the tasks instead of fruitlessly putting them off for later, but there's something fulfilling in the act of preparing them to be done. Putting the clothes in the hamper doesn't do your laundry, but it's certainly better than having everything strewn out on the floor and furniture. Your dishes are still dirty, but they're not rotting in your living room. You just need to summon the energy to actually finish the job. You're right in the middle of pouring some hyper-sugary grocery store brand lemonade into a pitcher with too-few cloudy ice cubes from a tray in the freezer, which feels like an embarrassing pantomime of what real people do when someone's about to come over, when your buzzer lets out a malevolent hiss.

When Tahira finally enters your apartment, you feel like the walls are closing in on you. It's like she's too big to fit inside the cramped, one person wide hall that breaks off into your squat, dark kitchen and the faintly yellowing washroom. "Evening," she sings, stepping through the cracked tiles and landlord-white walls like she doesn't even notice. Maybe she doesn't. "Hey," you offer, rushing into the kitchen where your pitcher of weird lemonade sits with the sparse ice cubes melted already. "You want a drink?" "Sure!" She drops onto the chair in your living room, bringing a notepad and pen set out of her purse that she lets flop limply onto the floor. "Are you ready to do some magic?" she asks, and with a wave of her hand the rest of your lights come on, letting you know that you've been skulking around your dark apartment this entire time. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Might as well be," you answer, not entirely confident but ready to throw some spaghetti at the wall.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["That easy, huh? I'm down," you answer, not confident but certainly enthusiastic.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I'll do my best," you tell her, part promise and part hope.]

You drop yourself awkwardly on the couch, (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[your skin feeling wooden from...fear, honestly. It feels stupid to be afraid of Tahira but you just can't shake it off in this state of miserable uncertainty. If you don't do well enough channelling her magic on your own, will she just force you to do it better? Do you even possess the luxury of completely banal mediocrity anymore? You're the first of your kind, so will Tahira tolerate if you just fucking suck at being her warlock?](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[suddenly on edge and uncertain in your own abilities. Being a warlock is historic—if you're not the first then they're certainly uncommon and quiet as hell about it, so what kind of example does it set if you completely biff it here and now right in front of your patron? It's just Tahira, but...wouldn't it be infinite cooler if you were immediately the best warlock ever invented (if not the only one), something definitely achievable and not completely unreasonable to expect of yourself?] Tahira smiles, taking an absent drink of your basic lemonade. "So, have you experienced any weird side effects?" she starts. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[Anxiety. Paranoia. Feelings of helplessness. You avert your eyes and try to think of something more concrete, something potentially caused by a tangible magic tether rather than the destruction of trust. "No," you answer quietly. "That's good, isn't it?" she asks, and you shrug. "It just is. What about you?"](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[Anxiety. Restlessness. Mild hysteria. You don't say any of that, of course; that's all just based on the historic lake of shit you waded into, not necessarily because there's an invisible magic tether between the two of you. "Nope, all good." "Excellent," she chirps, and you smile nervously. "Don't start at excellent. I don't think I can build on excellent. What about you, are you feeling all right?"] "Me? Nothing major," she says dismissively. "Something minor?" you press, and she purses her lips. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)["You're not going to like it," she warns, and you very nearly roll your eyes: there's next to nothing you do like about this situation.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["It's embarrassing," she admits in a low voice, but that only makes you want to hear it more.] "I can...sense you? If I focus hard enough I can—not see you, but I know you're there. It's like if we were sitting perfectly quiet on a call and you...coughed or something." (link: "\"Uhh...that's kind of...alarming?\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I wonder if it works both ways.\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)["Can you read my mind?" you ask, antsy. It's a stupid, juvenile question, especially knowing as much as you do about magic in general, but it's the immediate concern that jumps to your mind. Sensing you is so vague, something that anyone with sufficient power—which at this point you definitely believe about Tahira, as if you had any reason to doubt before—can do with very little effort...so if she's bringing it up, it must feel different. "No! No, of course not. It's just like I said: even at a distance, I almost feel like you're standing beside me." "I...haven't noticed anything like that," you offer, strangely disappointed.](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You close your eyes, wanting to reach out and touch this feeling that you don't entirely understand. Anyone with sufficient magic can sense a nearby person, but you assume that because she mentioned it, it must be notably different. "Anything?" she asks, and you shrug. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for," you admit, and she shrugs. "It doesn't feel the same up close anyway—you are near enough for me to sense here," she says dismissively. "I didn't notice anything unusual like that," you say, disappointed.] "We'll work on it," she promises, making a few notes.

She sets the notebook and pen down on the table, her looping writing almost too ornate to read. "Let's run a test," she says decisively, turning to face you head on. "Do you think you could channel some of my magic?" (if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Isn't that kind of in your hands?" you ask. "The patron decides what and how much when it comes to what magic the pactee takes, right?" "If we're playing a tabletop game then probably," she says stiffly. "As this is real life, think of it more like a cistern you have access to. I could probably fill and empty it to my pleasure, if we had that kind of reciprocal relationship, but this was done for both our benefits. Just do your best."](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["...yeah. For...for sure...how?" you ask, so uncertain that you suddenly feel like you don't know where your arms are supposed to be. "Think of it like a cistern we share," she advises, which isn't precise instructions. "Find it between us and draw from it." You have to assume she doesn't mean literally. "Just do your best," she adds, smiling conspiratorily.] "On it," you offer. She's not referring to a physical cistern and so you let your eyes close, reaching out for some kind of intangible space being created between your mutual bond. It doesn't literally exists, and so you could, in theory, imagine anything. (link: "You want it to be creepy and dank.")[(set: $tahira_cistern to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You want it to be serene and sacred.")[(set: $tahira_cistern to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "You want it to be vast and disorienting.")[(set: $tahira_cistern to 2)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[Isn't that what cisterns are, anyway? Kind of wet, kind of dark, full of the sound of dripping water and scurrying rats? While not a particularly home-y feeling, the realism of it grounds you and you see yourself there in the navy blue and moss-green darkness, at the edge of an enormous stone well. A distant grate lets in patches of weak sunlight that glow weakly against the stone lip of the cistern, drawing the layers of dark, heavy earth above your head into sharp relief. When you approach the edge, you see Tahira half-oscured in the obsidian black water, so still that it almost looks as if her head's been bisected. Her eyes are huge and dark, her face narrowed as far as you can see.](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[That seems like the safest bet, after all—somewhere that you can feel safe and comfortable is certainly somewhere that you can experiment with magic. You envision an intimate room, not small but full. A garden is tended in a corner with shelves out to hold pots and a heavy emerald hose hung coiled on the wall like a snake; flowers bloom around a bench shaded by lilac and jasmine, with a steaming mug of something across the bench from a chilled, icy drink. On the lip of a nearly pink-stoned cistern sits Tahira, backlit by a warm golden sunset so bright that you can barely see her, only the long suggestion of limbs.](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[Why not lean in to how you feel? One of the first lessons you learn when you do magic is that to nobly suffer fear and uncertaintly while you do magic is the plot of a shitty paperback, not a reality that you should entertain. You're scared. You're uncertain. So the cistern is on the ceiling, glowing with sparkling strobe light as it looks down on a throbbing crowd of faceless dancers undulating to the beat. Lights flash in patterns that can't be good for anyone's brain health, and with every flash the dancers change. Disco sequins flash and become punk rivets and become hip-hop gold and become hide cowboy hats, while the beat groans out from the mouth of the cistern. Tahira hangs out of it, upside down and impossibly long, unbothered by the flashing and dancing and staring at you with huge dark eyes.] You reach for her, and take what feels like the first breath you've ever taken.

You watch Tahira blink confusedly, as if coming into herself for the first time, and then abruptly the vision disappears and the electric connection that felt like your entire circulatory system opening up after a marathon goes with it, making you feel shrunken and dry. You reel back in your seat, the hardness and realness of reality jostling you oppressively. "What happened?" she asks, looking alarmed. "Did you see all that?" you ask, feeling delirious. "See what?" she asks. (if: $tahira_suss is 1)[ "That entire dreamscape—the cistern, the (if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[creepy underground room](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[garden](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[club]? You but...weird?" "I saw something," she says slowly, which isn't an answer. "I believe you were almost...weaving a connection between us, before it was cut off."](else:)[ You guess that answers that question. "There was like, (if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[a creepy underground room that was all wet and dim and had a huge cistern in it that you were inside. You looked...strange?" Kind of creepy, kind of pretty.](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[a garden, with all these tools and flowers laying around, and it was sunset and there was this stone cistern. You were there but it was...strange." You never did see her clearly, but you knew that it was her.](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[a club, it was...totally disorienting, really chaotic, and there was a cistern on the ceiling and you were like...in it?" It was difficult to remember everything in detail, as the point of the experience was that there was hardly time for details to exist.] "It sounds like you were weaving a connection between us," she says slowly.] "What happened?" you press, and she blinks slowly. "The connection closed." (if: $tahira_suss is 1)["That's it?" you ask, and she shrugs. "It's certainly not active right now." Again with the vagueness, again with the technical truths.](else:)["But what closed it?" you ask, and she shrugs. "It's certainly not active now," she says and...yeah, you guess that would be all she knows about it.]

"Let's do it again then," you say (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[as if it's a threat, surprised when Tahira nods](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[determinedly, buoyed when Tahira nods]. You close your eyes and slip back to the cistern, reaching out easily for (if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[the echoing underground](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[the warm, sunlit garden](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[flashing club]. You look around again, taking in the (if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[sheen of oily water](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[smell of blooming flowers](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[teeming crowd], and your eyes are drawn to the spot where Tahira had been. She's there again, the uncanniness of her entirely absent. (if: $tahira_suss is 1)[You feel a harsh twist of frustration—does she think you're stupid? That you won't notice the one thing that changed out of everything going on around you? You just invented this dreamscape out of nothing, you're not even sure how or if it's even real, and she changes one of the central features? You reach out for her hand, grabbing her palm and squeezing urgently. Just stop this, you think, the entire cistern narrowing to her. Enough hiding, enough dodging. Where your hands are connected, she flickers rapidly between her normal self and the cistern self, dark-eyed and (if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[obscured by the water](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[blindingly, golden bright](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[upside-down]. She looks surprised, alarmed, but the connection holds. You make it hold.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 0)[You feel a sense of wrongness, even though she looks more normal than she did before. Is this your doing? Was the prior Tahira a figment of your dreamscape, a hazy dream born out of your first try to manifest a weird magic realm where you can visualize your warlock powers? You reach for her hand, letting your fingers twine together. Tell me what's real, you think. I'm your partner. Tell me what I need to know. Where your hands are connected, she flickers rapidly between her normal self and the cistern self, dark-eyed and (if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[obscured by the water](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[blindingly, golden bright](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[upside-down]. She looks surprised, alarmed, but the connection holds. You're holding it.] You feel a wave, powerful and all-encompassing. It's heady and disorienting, like being drunk in a dream, and knocks the air from your lungs. She catches your weight as you lose it, your legs weak. You stare up at her, (if: $tahira_cistern is 0)[wet where she's holding you, the water sluicing down her face](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 1)[half-blinded from the relenetless sun](elseif: $tahira_cistern is 2)[her skin flashing in the relentlessly changing light], panting. Everything blurs and turns, and suddenly behind Tahira's head you see the ceiling—your apartment's ceiling.

Tahira's head is still there though, looking down at you in a mild panic. "$first?" she asks, not for the first time based on her tone. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["What?"](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I'm—I'm okay, T."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Oh, this can't be good."] "What happened?" she asks frantically, and you look around at your spot on the floor. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["You tell me."](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Something stupid, I'm sure."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I...don't know?"] As you settle back into your body, you start to absorb the situation you're in. You're on your back in the living room, with Tahira on her hands and knees overtop of you. You're close enough to smell her floral shampoo—nothing so banal as roses or lavender, with a strong soil scent—and the faint, plasticy spice of cinnamon hearts. Her lipgloss has a little glitter in it, just enough to catch the light when she talks. She's talking. She's saying your name again. "Sorry, what?" you shake your head quickly and she backs off, moving to kneel nearby as you lift yourself to sit. "I said I think you took too much," she repeats, and you feel your gut curdle with dread. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You told her! You told her that you were worried about this exact thing, but did she listen?](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[You remember holding on to the connection, remember overwhelming yourself to keep it steady. Was that what did it?]

(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Are you okay?" you ask, irritated. "One of us dropped to the floor a second ago and you think I was injured? I was afraid you'd given yourself brain bleed or something!" she says, her voice high and faintly hysterical.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["Are you hurt?" you ask fretfully, and she barks out a laugh of surprise. "You wake up on your back and think I'm the one who got hurt? I thought you'd given yourself brain bleed or something!" she says, her hand clasping over her mouth as if the shock was coming back all at once.] "Given it to myself?" you ask, and she nods. "The magic started to flow and the connection was so strong that it felt like rapids more than rivers, so I tried to turn off the tap but you kept snapping it back open." You recall that part, resisting against her closing it—(if: $tahira_suss is 1)[you narrow your eyes, unsure if the swell of power really was the reason she scrambled to snap it shut](elseif: $tahira_suss is 0)[your eyes widen, embarrassment crawling up the back of your neck; you'd really thought you were connecting with her, all while she struggled to keep your brain intact]. (link: "\"I think we need to improve our communication.\"")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"Why didn't you say anything?\"")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Obviously guessing isn't getting us anywhere, and I think we're running low on the trust necessary to read each other like we were hoping to," you add firmly, and she glances off to the side. "Or we could come to some kind of agreement," she offers. "Get this whole trust thing off our plates." (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Oh, is it a real pain that you fucked me over and I won't just move on?" you snap, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. "You want me to be honest? Yeah, kinda. We have the same goals and nothing's changed except you tried insisting on doing things the hard and dangerous way and I pulled you off the hill you were trying to die on."](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I'm a person, T. What could you possibly want to say to me right now that's going to change the fact that you forced me to do this?" you ask, honestly kind of hoping that she has a real answer. Unfortunately, she doesn't. "I could say to you that I just pulled you off the hill that you were determined to die on for some reason, so I don't know what you want me to be sorry for!"](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Sure, let me just let go of your completely out of left field and totally unnecessary betrayal and we can all move on," you say, rolling your eyes. "Is it that hard for you to imagine a world where you were blundering into traffic and I pulled you out of it? Do I need to be punished forever for trying to keep you safe?"] "So back to what I was saying about communication," you say firmly, and she sighs. "We'll need signals or safewords or something." "So you can ignore those too?" she asks sharply.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["We're going to keep having trouble with conveying our needs so long as this is all...practice," you offer delicately. Neither of you have significant experience with magic on this level or scale, so until you can look at her and know what she needs, it's better to have an inviolable signal that the two of you can fall back on. "I guess..." she says haltingly. "I think it might be safer if you follow my lead, though." "That's...not how communication works," you remind her, and she smiles. "I know," she admits. "I just—all of this is really new and I don't know how much you can take or if I'm pushing too hard—" (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Isn't that the point of a signal?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["And we can't figure out some kind of secret handshake that tells you all that?" you ask, smiling faintly.](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I know you're worried about me, but there can be a signal to let you know I'm drowning," you remind her patiently.] "I just...I want this to be easier, for both of us," she says, frustrated.]](elseif: $_temp is 1)["Say anything?" she echoes, (if: $tahira_suss is 1)[your least favourite of her tells](elseif: $tahira_suss is 0)[and you nod encouragingly]. "You were there," you remind her, and she blinks owlishly. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You stay silent, waiting for her to contradict you—she doesn't like lying outright, but let's see how far you can push her](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[She was, right? You saw her and yes it was a dreamscape, but why would you be there and she wouldn't?] "It's...hard to keep track of what's going on, in a place like that," she admits. (if: $tahira_suss is 1)[You file that away for later: the Tahira you saw is the Tahira that really and consciously exists](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[Your shoulders sink in relief, that you didn't accidentally invent some kind of dream-Tahira]. "It's chaotic." "Can you modify it?" you ask. You're pretty sure that you were solely involved in the ideation of the place, but if she's there as a real person then surely she can bring things into line a little, maybe even make communication possible. "I wouldn't dare," she admits. "Who knows what'll happen?" "Then what do we do?" you ask, because you won't sit front and centre for another accident where you try to drain her and accidentally give yourself a neurological event. "Maybe some kind of signal?" "Signals...?" You can tell by her tone that she doesn't like the idea.]

{(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Just make me then, if you don't want to just fucking cooperate for ten seconds," you snap. "I don't want to make you!" she hisses back. "But you're just going to meet me with that instead of trying to work with me." "And whose fault is that!?" She lets out a hiss of frustration and stands up, grabbing the shitty lemonade she left on the table and pressing the cold-ish glass against her forehead, mumbling furiously. "You either have to force me or we're going to figure something out, (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[because we can't keep going like this](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[because I can't trust you enough to just do whatever you say when you tell me to]." "I got that, thanks," she says, surly. "And for the record, I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm not going to force you to do anything." "Just the one thing," you mutter irritably.] (elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["T, we need to do something, and me just trying really hard to understand what you're trying to get me to do without words isn't it," you tell her, and she slouches back with her eyes closed—resigned but frustrated. "I know. I guess," she offers weakly. "It's hard to keep running into the one thing I can't control at the very moment that I would very much like to do so." "We'll figure something out," you promise. That's what you're best at—taking some bullshit and making it work. "But this only works if we can trust each other and communicate." "I know. I'm not helping, am I?" she asks wryly, and you smile and nudge her lightly with your foot. "You're doing fine. Best patron a warlock could ask for," you promise.]}

The two of you sit inside of a heavy silence for a while, (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[your argument still echoing around the room in spite of the quiet](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[there being nothing better to say to fill the ringing nothingness]. You don't try to make your way back to the cistern, (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[afraid for the integrity of your brain if you keep pushing yourself. You stew in your anxiety, wracking your brain for some sort of instinct that would help you do...this, the warlock thing, without risking the both of you trying.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[certain that every passing second gives Tahira more time to plan how to face you there without risk. You stew in your frustration, wracking your brain for some way to make her stand up and pay attention, to realise that it's not you she's supposed to be fighting.] "What if we made a more formal pact?" she suggests, and you look up. (if: $tahira_pact is 1)["That way we both have a chance to air out what's troubling us about this arrangement, and brainstorm ideas about how to overcome those issues." You feel your chest get tight—you'd been worried, deep down, that she was dismissing you, that by airing your fears you were admitting that you weren't up to this. Turns out, T is just T—she was thinking of a formal way to communicate before actually opening her mouth. You two can work on that.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 0)["You don't trust my word, so let's make it so you don't have to," she presses, her eyes shining with hope. "You'd be willing to do that?" You're admittedly skeptical—why would she do something that might backfire on her, or at least give you the opportunity to try and blow it up in her face? Either she thinks very highly of her ability to screw you over, or...or she's building a bridge. You're not sure which one you're more willing to believe at the moment. "I wouldn't offer if I wasn't," she says firmly, and you nod a couple times.]

You don't say anything for a second, then in the spirit of (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[self-interest](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[cooperation], you slide to the floor and reach out for her discarded notebook and pen. 1, you write, your tongue between your teeth, we have to follow strategies and plans agreed upon ahead of time. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You're not looking to get your head cut off to buy Tahira nine extra seconds to cast a spell, especially if you're down to the wire and it comes down between catching Siruud and letting him escape to save your life](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[It's the most straight-forward way you can think of to word what you mean; you need to know that in a heated moment, neither of you are going to try to push yourselves over a line to get things done, especially if it comes down to a success or failure]. T peers over your shoulder. "We need a little wiggle room," she protests. "Stuff like this doesn't always go as planned. We might go into a situation that couldn't possibly be turned into a fight and end up scrambling." (link: "\"We can plan for that.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"That's what strategies are for!\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"We can't plan for the unplannable, T.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["Like, that's the point of planning, that even if we can't say exactly what will happen, we can plan for instances where we can't directly communicate or one of us is unconscious." You've built your shitty, pointless career on, if not being able to predict danger, then to head it off: cause and effect dictates that many situations are at least similar enough to each other that you can plan around them, the fine art of planning for what to do on a roadtrip if the car breaks down, but not if a meteor suddenly hits and obliterates the destination.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["Of course we can't predict everything that'll happen, but if we have strategies in place for a lack of communication or an interloper then we can at least stay organised about it." She...knows this, which is something you know about Tahira as a person, but you guess before it was largely...impersonal. She sacrificed nothing and, in theory, got exactly what she wanted by drilling emergency readiness into you every three months to make sure you didn't get sloppy on the job. (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[This is far more intimate than making you ready to fight.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[Obviously she believes that in this case she has something to lose.]](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["That's what I'm saying," she says, almost relieved, but you shake your head. "I'm not agreeing with you, I'm saying that we shouldn't avoid plans because we can't fully anticipate the entire situation." You've spent your time at SignetWorks proving that knowing what to do in case of emergency isn't a case of perfectly predicting every possible situation, but more or less understanding what needs to be done during the very countable styles of probable situations.] "I'm just saying if it comes down to the wire and one of us needs to make a decision—" (if: $tahira_suss is 0)["You want to make the decision for me?" you ask, hurt. "I want you to trust me," she says urgently, kneeling down next to you. "The kinds of things we're fucking with—" "I'm the demon hunter!" you press, and her jaw tightens in frustration. "I know, but...I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing."](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[(if: $tahira_pact is 0)["Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand, and she groans. "I know how it sounds, but in situations like these—" "The demon hunter you've been working with for years isn't good enough?" you ask incredulously. "That's not what I said." "No, you said that in case I'm in extraordinary danger that you should be allowed to override my autonomy." "I want you to listen! I didn't say anything about taking over!"](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["You're not seriously suggesting that you should be allowed to...to what, overrule me, when you deem a threat too much." "$first, the kind of stuff we're fucking with right now...I want to know that you'll trust me when it counts." "And I want to know that my autonomy isn't just something inconvenient for you to sidestep when you decide to." "I didn't say that!" she insists.]]

"I want to keep you safe," she says urgently, reaching out to squeeze your hand. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[You jump at the contact, having so quickly lost your ease with Tahira](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[You jump at her intensity, frustrated but compelled by her urgency]. "I want you to have every advantage in this conflict, so use me. Let me use my knowledge to help you, because I don't want you to make an underinformed decision because you didn't know as much as me in the moment." "And what if I do know more than you?" you ask, (cycling-link: "frustrated", "imploringly"). "What if I'm trying to act on what I know and you're trying to stop me?" "How do we decide?" she asks. You don't have an answer for her—there needs to be trust between you, but (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[this warlock thing is going to hang, ugly, between you. You don't know how to fix that relationship, and more than that you're not in a place where you think that you should be working on it. She needs to build your trust; you won't just conveniently forget her betrayal.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[she seems completely unwilling to offer you that. You try to remind yourself that she's not coming from a place of mistrust in you, but fear of consequences if she's not perfectly in control of a situation...but one does feel awfully similar to another in a way that makes you feel terrible.] (link: "\"You need to trust me.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I want to meet you halfway...\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I don't know what you want from me.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")["We've worked together for years. You've stitched me up through a million unpleasant surprises, you've trusted me to go out into the field by myself and find trouble, and you're the one who put the box in front of me in the first place. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[Either tell me what's changed, or trust me to do what I've already done, because you're the one that changed things, not me."](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[Nothing's changed, T, and I don't want to mess with a good thing, especially because you don't trust me me."]](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")["If there's a compromise that I can make to make you more comfortable then I want to make it, but I have to understand what's changed. You've trusted my work and trusted me all these years, so...why does that need to change? (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[I'm the one who had my trust broken, and I'm the one who shouldn't have to compromise in this situation, but instead you're looking at me and telling me I can't do the thing you've functionally forced me into doing."](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[I volunteered to do this at your suggestion, and I don't regret it, but I have to ask myself and you, why did we do this if you didn't want to? If you didn't believe that I was capable and competent enough to do this?"]](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")["You tell me to become your warlock, (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[I say no and you force me to do it anyway,](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[I said yes,] and now it seems like you regret having done it. The only thing we've actually tried is to tap into that power which I think I did, if not safely, but I did what (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[you asked](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[we wanted], and now you're scrambling to back out. So what's changed, because I don't see how we move forward until I understand what's different."] "You were thrown out a window!" she insists. "Before you made me your warlock. You walked right through that door today ready to experiment. What changed between then and now?" you press. (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[She's scared and she won't admit it, and the cistern scared her. You passing out scared her. If the two of you want to communicate clearly, then she needs to communicate what went wrong and what you can do together to prevent it.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[Something went wrong in the cistern, and you don't think that it has anything to do with you passing out—or, more accurately, you don't think that's the primary concern. She didn't like you keeping the connection open. It could even be that you passed out because she forced it closed. You won't know until she just admits it.] (link: "Reach out and take her hand.")[(set: $_temp to 0)(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "Watch her, unblinking.")[(set: $_temp to 1)(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_temp is 0)[You squeeze her hand and feel a rumble, like a phone set to vibrate; her magic, seeping out of her. Her fingers twine with yours and she takes a long, deep breath. "I didn't want you to keep the connection open," she says. She must know what you're going to say next, but waits for you to do it anyway. "Why?" "I'm not used to not having control of my own magic." (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[You squeeze her hand, nodding encouragingly for her to continue...and a little disappointed when she doesn't. "So feeling me there was...frightening?" you ask. She gives a short nod, but doesn't elaborate. "Having the connection open was upsetting?" "I wanted it to close, but you kept it open." You flush; that's technically true, but it hadn't bee malicious! "I thought we were having a moment," you offer weakly.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[You squeeze her hand, but shake your head. "That's not an answer. That's a factual statement about the situation." "It is. You were taking my magic and ignoring how clearly I wanted you to not do that." "Because you're hiding things!" you insist, flush with the implication that you're in the wrong, and rather than a sidelong acknowledgement that she knows you know, she's been instead delicately dancing around your trespass.]](elseif: $_temp is 1)[You watch her intently, waiting. (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[You need to not be distracted by her, not allow yourself to seek the comfort she offers just by...existing. You want to clear the air and communicate without mincing things, without trying to make yourselves smaller for each other.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[How much clearer can you possibly be, that your opinion of her is deeply affected by how she tries to hide things from you? You don't want to reach out for her in this moment because it feels too fragile, to bring your arms away from your chest and expose the glassworks of your torso to more and more half-truths and sidesteps meant to keep you in the dark?] "I didn't want you to keep the connection open," she says. "I'm not used to someone else having access to my power like that." Her tone is stilted and neutral, (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[and you wonder what could have possibly happened to make her so distant.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[and you're wise to it now: she says things that are technically true very carefully, because she's had to think about them first.] "And?" you prompt. "And you weren't listening to me when I clearly wanted you to let me close the connection." Your gut flares, your face going hot. (if: $tahira_suss is 0)["I thought we were having a moment!" you burst defensively.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)["Because you refuse to let me in! I wasn't going to just let you jerk me around forever!" you snap, aware of how you sound.]] "You asked what happened and I told you." (if: $tahira_suss is 0)["I didn't want to hurt you," you insist earnestly. "I'm just—it's hard, being on this end and never understanding what's actually happening. It's hard to draw lines when I don't even know where I'm standing." The cistern hadn't even been real until an hour ago. "It's hard to keep lighting matches and having them put out before I can see anything, you know?"](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)["You can't throw this back on me," you say firmly. "I'm stumbling around in the dark after you, you can't stomp on every match I find and then scold me for trying to hide them from you." The cistern hadn't even been real until an hour ago, and the moment you tried to exercise any kind of authority over it, she'd shut you out.]

"It's hard to protect someone when you've asked them to follow quietly through the dark and they keep trying to light a match!" she shoots back, then slumps down against the chair. "It was easy to keep you safe before because we were somewhere with known risks and expected parameters. It was dangerous for you to go out and fight demons for SignetWorks, but now you're doing this (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[because I made you](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[for me]. I don't have anyone I can escalate to if something goes wrong, and I don't have anyone to blame for failing to anticipate the danger but myself." "And would you blame yourself if something reached out in the dark and snatched me because I didn't know it was what we were hiding from?" you ask, (if: $tahira_pact is 0)[mollified at least a little that she admitted, without a song and dance about need and blame, that she forced you into this position](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[setting aside the part of you that agrees that you are small and helpless and need her in all things]. "We have Siruud, and we have Bright. Bright is after me because of my link to Siruud: and you are too." She's quiet for a moment, her eyes drifting to the window where the orange of the streetlamps in the parking lot flicker briefly. "Our pact made the connection weaker; between you and Siruud."

"Weaker how?" you ask, alarmed. It isn't so much that you wanted to maintain your link to the archdemon or anything, but (if: $tahira_suss is 1)[you assumed that was your utility to her; so why did she sacrifice that?](elseif: $tahira_suss is 0)[you thought your strength in this relationship was your link to Siruud; now that it's weakened, what's the point of you helping her?] "Hmm...think of it as a window. Before, each of you could look through to see each other; now it's like you applied that filtering thing that makes it so you can see out but he can't see in. Your vision is compromised, while his is cut off entirely," she explains. (if: $tahira_pact is 0)["And you did that in favour of getting me under contract?" you ask, perplexed. Having direct control over you is borderline useless if it doesn't also involve a clear path to Siruud.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)["But why did you do that?" you ask, almost embarrassed.] "I did it to keep you safe," she answers, her eyes on the condensation on the lemonade. "Bright wanted the same thing as me; when an enemy wants the same thing you want, it's better to destroy it then let it fall into their hands."

(if: $tahira_suss is 0)[You smile faintly; she picked an objectively wild way to phrase it, but you understand. She isn't trying to destroy you, but she sacrificed something that was useful to the cause to protect you. "Maybe you should have told me that first," you offer, and she shrugs. "Maybe. But you might've said no, even though it's not...I don't need to work you into a paste to find Siruud," she says firmly. "The window thing changed a lot," you agree. Steps had to be taken, and you're relieved to learn that they were taken for your benefit.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[You snort and shake your head shortly. "T, it's when you say things like that—you know that sounds sinister." Obviously she was trying to destroy the connection, but how are you supposed to pick out the potentially damaging from the benign when she phrases something...objectively beneficial to you, like that? "In some ways it's easier when you're on your toes and mad at me," she says thoughtfully, then smiles. "Harder in most ways, but I prefer cautious to overly-confident." "Was that a big problem right after I got thrown out a window?" you shoot back, not sure if you're annoyed or amused.] "Bright changed everything," she echoes, looking deep in thought. "I don't know how I missed them for so long." "How often did you chat with the CEO?" you ask mildly. (if: $tahira_suss is 0)[She's pretty high ranking in the company—or was, since it's been so long since you properly went to work that you have no real idea what her employment status actually is—but not so high that you think she was getting invited to dinner with the founder.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)[You don't mean to absolve her, but realistically speaking Bright has little to do with the day to day operations of the company. She is—or was, as you'd have no way of actually knowing at this point—pretty high ranking, but she was hardly on the board of executives.] "If they'd walked through the hallway once on a tour I should have noticed," she argues, but you shrug. "Based on what I saw, it's weird that nobody noticed." Even the most junior street-beat should have been able to ping what was going on, but you were in their office looking at them and missed it.

"If that thing is after you because of Siruud..." she trails off, thoughtful. You think that's a pretty safe assumption in spite of your blurred memory. "I think we have to resolve Siruud first," she says shortly, and you snort. (if: $player_personality is "irritable")["Why didn't I think of that?" you ask sarcastically, holding up your still cursed hand.](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")["Oh is that all?" you laugh. As if the two of you have just been putting it off!](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")["I'd love to, but how?" you ask, clenching your cursed fist.] "It won't be easy," she clarifies, "but we can start stirring the pot...or we could start by tipping the pot over." She jolts forward and grabs her notebook, flipping to a calendar section. "What I propose is risky—it could bring Bright down on our heads, but if I know Siruud and his...circle, as it were, it'll bring him out of wherever he's holed himself up." "His circle?" you ask skeptically. "I've told you about Maureen," she reminds you distractedly, digging through her purse for her phone. "She'll have her ear to the ground for us, and I say we start making noise." (link: "\"Dare I ask how?\"")[(set: $_reaction to "irritable")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"I do excel at being loud.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "charismatic")(goto: $nextpassage)] (link: "\"...which might attract Bright too.\"")[(set: $_reaction to "compassionate")(goto: $nextpassage)]

(if: $_reaction is "irritable")[(if: $tahira_pact is 0)[This plan reeks from top to bottom, but if it resolves things then you're at least willing to hear her out; at the least, you're comforted that she hasn't just overlooked the possibility of dropping Bright down on you again. Something in your gut goes hard and cold at the very thought.](elseif: $tahira_pact is 1)[You're, frankly, not excited about even the slightest possibility that Bright comes crashing down on your head again so soon after launching you out a window—the very thought makes your mouth dry—but nothing ventured, nothing gained: you have to hear her out.]](elseif: $_reaction is "charismatic")[Perhaps to your detriment, you've been told that if nothing else you can make a scene; you're not sure exactly how it helps, but if she needs you to stir shit up then she's shown up at the right place. The thought of doing so and having Bright drop down on your head is terrifying, of course, but you're nothing if not adept at compartmentalizing.](elseif: $_reaction is "compassionate")[She said as much already, but the idea makes your gut cold and your head feel light. You can't go back. You can't do that all again and you can't possibly think of a way to prepare yourself for such an encounter. Staying on the first floor is the only tangible action that comes to mind, and that's just...silly. That won't help.] "The Grind has a vernal equinox party every year," she explains quickly, catching the hesitation in your eyes(if: $_reaction is "compassionate")[, if not in your voice.](else:)[.] "If you and I go and...announce, for lack of a better term, that you're my warlock, it'll make a wave big enough to bring out Siruud." "Wouldn't that be a better reason for him to hide away?" you ask (if: $player_personality is "irritable")[skeptically](elseif: $player_personality is "charismatic")[wryly](elseif: $player_personality is "compassionate")[hopefully]. "He won't walk up to say hello," she amends. "But as long as you're in the city, he is too; and he thinks my partnership with you is a detriment, especially after he hears that I've functionally blindfolded you." (if: $tahira_suss is 0)["But he'll need to want to speak with me," you argue, unable to envision a world where that's a useful avenue for him to risk himself down. "We don't need him to really believe that he can move you," she says. "We just need him to make the attempt. He can't hurt you, but he needs to get unbound from you in order to leave the city and at this point he has to be getting desperate: and we know something he doesn't." "Right." Bright. You can't wait.](elseif: $tahira_suss is 1)["So I'm bait?" you ask shortly, and she hesitates for a second before nodding. "He'll think you're weak and hopefully make another attempt to contact you. Luckily in this case, he can't hurt you." There's an unspoken implication that involving Bright might compel him to act, as he's just as at risk as you are. "Fine," you agree shortly. At least this time (link: "you know the stakes")[(goto: "END")].] (css: "font-size: 0.7em")[Save on this screen, as the next screen is the end of the demo; or, just use the save builder next time, as that's what it's for.]